Second time in a hospital

Today Abigail was in a hospital for the second time in her life. But, this time is was for Dad. I had a surgery to remove what the docs thought was a cyst in my throat.

The doctor wasn't too concerned about the procedure when we consulted in her office. However, I've been human for 42 years and figured out last year that we're pretty much a tube. The tube has a top and bottom; both equally important.

However, the thought of having a doc's hands in the top of the tube gave rise to a bit of anxiety. Abigail was beautifully comforting. She distracted the nurses and doctors so much that a nurse asked if my doctor was Dr Smith and if I had a finger injury; both of which were wrong and certainly made me wonder if I was scheduled for the right surgery.

To ease the anxiety I resorted to humor. As a matter of good form...and self preservation, it's not a good idea to offend the staff that is about to cut you open while you're sleeping. I was asked about advanced directives; so I said, 'if I'm going to die, get a priest'. The nurse promptly responded by telling me that nobody dies in the operating room. So I responded by saying 'of course not, there's a reason the operating table has wheels and the room is next to the exit...'

The humor continued when I met the OR nurse and anesthesiologist. The nurse was Japanese and the anesthesiologist was from Scotland; both of whom had magnificently offensive senses of humor. In fact, the three of us were bust'n each other's chops in the OR while they were doing the NASCAR pit stop move on me. The anesthesiologist told me he came to America by 'marrying one of you...' Obviously that opened up the mail order bride jokes. The Japanese nurse said something about being a professional athlete; which opened up the Sumo jokes.

The male banter between the three of us eased the anxiety, until the anesthesiologist told me the funny juices were flowing. I'm not certain what I said to the Scotish doc and the Japanese nurse next, but I went to sleep hearing the others in the OR laughing hesterically. I do remember a dream about a Scottish Sumo Wrestler wearing a kilt trying to sneak into the country...or maybe I said that out loud???

Thankfully, the doc did not find a cyst, or anything else of concern at the top of the Lance tube. This made me and Abigail very happy. Apparently my voice problems stem from one Dutch vocal cord and one Italian vocal cord...both fighting for land in my throat. The Italian one keeps picking the wrong allies and the Dutch vocal cord can't figure out how to pronounce GGHRHCJEHRETCCHHWERD by itself.

In all seriousness, the hospital is a tough place to go to; not only for yourself, but to see others in tough times in thier lives. However, the experience can certainly narrow one's sense of priorities. Prayer for family, friends, and others at the hospital was comforting. And, the truth about what I really was thinking as I drifted off to sleep in the OR...FAMILY.