February 17, 2009

I had a pow-wow with my Sherpa Guide/Adventure Planner/Doctor yesterday. It is official; I have been scheduled for another adventure. However, before I can tell you about my upcoming adventure I must finish my current adventure. I have had several requests concerning my adventure. I have carefully considered each one of them, and decided to continue anyway. Are we ready? OK ready, set go. Wait, I should give a quick synopsis of my adventure up to this point.

Here is a very quick synopsis, (1) I was diagnosed with prostate cancer in September. (2) I chose surgery to remove the cancer. (3) I was attacked by vampires dressed as blood bank volunteers. (4) Finally I was poisoned by my doctor. That about does it, you have been caught up. We are now current, D. Day, the day of my surgery.

BUZZZZZ-BUZZZZ, my alarm clock woke us up at 4:30 in the morning, we were suppose to be at the hospital at 5:30. I don’t know why the hospital felt the need to schedule my surgery so early. I had no problem with the early time, but Mrs. Raballard and Daughter Raballard were not happy with the time. Daughter Raballard takes time to transform from her zombie like sleep to the beautiful daughter she really is and 4:30 in the morning is too early for the transformation to take place.

We arrive at the hospital 20 minutes early, not that I’m excited to be there, My OCDness goes into high gear when time is involved, I feel the need to be on time to all appointments. The best way to assure you will be on time is to get to your appointment early.

I was ready my support team was not. We walked into the lobby, Mrs. Rabalalrd’s head on my shoulder, clutching her favorite blanky. Daughter Raballard stomped into the lobby arms outstretched Frankensteinish. We were quite a sight.

Heading straight to the check-in desk, we are given a “your name came up, and your seat is ready buzzer. I knew restaurants used them, I had no idea the technology had been adopted by the health care community also. I patiently await my buzz, while my support team slept on. A tech, with a clipboard entered the lobby, I swear he looked just like Igor, “Raballard, Raballard” my buzzer hissed at me at the same time. I told the hunch backed lab tech that I was Raballard. The tech checked my new lovely hospital supplied bracelet, he had to be sure I was who I claimed I was. (Editors note: I have not Goggled this yet, but I am sure there are very few people impersonating prostrate cancer patients. I am also certain if you are the one to stand up when a name is called out for the surgery, you are who you claim to be.)

Satisfied he motioned me, and my support team to “walk this way”. The four of us leave the lobby and pass through a set of double doors, Mrs Raballard slugs me in the arm. I look surprised; although I knew the reason, she slugged me. I take things literally, when the tech instructed me to walk this way, I was doing just that. As I walked, I dragged my left leg behind me. I was mimicking the lab tech, trying my best to walk his way. Mrs. Raballard was not amused.

We were escorted to the holding cell, where I was given a tie from the back, southern exposure robe, a fancy blue paper helmet, and a pair of brown slipper socks. The socks clashed with the rest of my surgical uniform, so I refused to wear them. After changing into my early Surgical Halloween Costume, I was ordered to lie on a rock hard, tiny gurney and wait my turn.

Before long a continual parade of hospital, staff march into and out of my cell. The first being the staff in charge of admittance, I feel sorry for her, she is so addicted to my space she pushes a computer along through out her travels. My pastor drops by to say hi, I secretly know he has deadlines to meet. He wants to publish my demise in the next week’s church bulletin. The doctor, anesthesiologist, janitor followed my pastor’s visit.

I don’t know when it happened but someone had unbeknownst to me had slipped a elephant tranquilizer into my I.V. The last two to enter my room were Guido and Lefty. It was now my time. Guido and Lefty were there to wheel me to my next destination.

For those among you that have not had the pleasure of a similar adventure you might be surprised my next destination was not the operating room. I was escorted to a staging area, full of other people going on their own adventures.

We dropped of Daughter Raballard in the waiting room on our way to the staging area. Mrs. Raballard was able to join me while I waited.

Guido assured me the vultures circling the staging area where actually just family, waiting for news of loved ones. I was also comforted when they told me the person dressed head to foot in a hooded black robe was not the grim reaper. It was the hospital administrator on her way to a Halloween Party.

The remainder of my journey was hazy at best. I can only assume Mrs. Raballard’s sworn testimony that I requested that a Dr. House or any of his staff not be allowed to assist. I knew I had cancer, and if any of you watch House know my concern,

I was asleep by the time I was escorted into the operating room.

Dang, where does the time fly? I am out of time. I will have to continue my adventure another time. I promise to complete it before my next adventure begins.

Please come again, pull up a rocking chair and sit a spell. You are missed if you are not here.