JayFublerHarvey.com

I was psyched…I was ready. My tension was up and I was focusing on the event. I’d never done anything like this before, so I tried to keep my remaining nervousness down to a minimum. It was time to meet up with Da Man…

Everyone called him MD and for this moment in time, he had become my nemesis. He had given me the time and place and demanded I be there. I knew I had to go…it couldn’t be put off any longer. Our eyes met…and I was ready. Time to put shit in check!

Then suddenly, his lackey injected me with some substance ‘to help you relax’. Bastard! Before I knew it, I was dancing in the happy, but uncertain land of unconsciouness. I enjoyed playing No-Limit Texas Crickets with the Chersire Cat, Bu Bu Boo the Unwieldy and Dick “Don’t Touch My Nutz” Cavett. We all drank too much Bloodwine and sang the songs we all like to sing, while waiting for our Woo-Hoo pudding to cool off. Tra-la-la…la-la…Wheee….

It was during this time that MD cut me…cut me with something. Coulda been a scapel…coulda been a recently broken bottle of Michelob Dark…coulda been a really funky, infected, sharp-ass fingernail. I truely would never know…or why my cut always smelled of eldeberries…

When I woke up, my hernia surgery was complete and I was in varying levels of pain… :P

While I thank the Doc for doing what looks to be a stellar job, I gots some things I need to be saying for saying and needings sake…ya dig?

1) I actually woke up still in the operating room! I made jokes about that beforehand…didn’t actually think it would happen. Fortunately, it was at the every end when they were already done and about to roll me back downsairs.

While I admire the anesthesiologist’s timing skills, I was under the impression that I would wake up back where I started. Better re-calculate your drip amount, son. You’re going to end hearing someone screaming from the O.R. one of these days.

2) I need the 411! If someone is going to slice me open and leave something inside of me for safe keeping, I need to hear the important after-surgery info myself.

I perfectly understand why you give such info to the loved one first…I’m supposed to still be out cold. But that won’t be for long, and as the patient, I’d need to hear the skinny too. Spicoli man…you didn’t even show up afterwards to see how I was. Your overpaid ass ain’t getting no tip!

3) My apologies to nurse who carted my big ass upstairs. She was putting all her might into it…and we were still going slow. Sorry Ma’am…Harveys are built big like that. ^^ I’ll be happy to get you membership to Bally’s or something…

Additional: Extra apology to the same Nightingale for not complaining much while unknotting the strings of my gown. (I over did it…took her a good two minutes…^^;;; )

I’ll save my post-surgery revelations until I’ve had enough time to recover and reflect on how massively irritating, painful and disconcerting all this has been.

(And enough time to get rid of my new Vicodin/Granola addiction…)