You’d think there’d be a story

After the whole work-up of getting to the bottom of the problem with my high calcium – to use a roller coaster of a phrase – one would think I would be chockful of stories of “the surgery”.  In fact, some even remarked, “I’ll bet this will be on the blog.”

But, no. That’s not the situation. Oh, there are stories all right and they’re scattered around me, but I haven’t fully embraced them yet. I am not in a mood to take a deep breath and let the humorous details pour out.  (However, the nurse who used the code word “privates” has popped forth in one little anecdote.)

Maybe it is the adjusting to new parathyroid levels and calcium levels; maybe it is this rash I have that itches. I’ll come around to it though – the telling about Ivor, for instance, who made me think of Igor and the wild surgery in the castle with the lightning and  . . . No, don’t let your imagination run wild when headed to a gurney ride.

 

One thought on “You’d think there’d be a story”

  1. My friend’s son was having back surgery and when he was coming out of the anesthesia but still on pain pills he sleepily said, “so this is what taking drugs is like…” and there was a long pause and then he cheerily said, “I like it!” we laughed about that for a long time. Of course he has no memory of it. I won’t even share what my husband says and does when he’s groggy from procedures. He’d rethink that “death til us part” section of the marriage vows…” lol So what you really need to be concerned about it not what you DO remember, but what your family members know that you DON’T remember…. they might pull it out at the most inopportune time. Ammunition for blackmail. etc.

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