It’s time to finish what I’ve started, no more cliffhangers, no more time restraints, today is the day. If you are new to my blog, welcome. If you are a new reader the first blog on my adventure is the December 17, 2008 blog, you might want to start reading that post first, and read forward. For those of you court ordered to this blog, because of some evil deed, I agree this is cruel and unusual punishment. However, you are here so you might as well make the best of your situation, there are cots in the back, you may sleep off your sentence.
I wish I could tell you what happened inside the operating room, I am sure it would be riveting reading; however I was sleeping at the time. Apparently my surgeon takes a dim view of patients watching his procedures. I can only assume he chooses secrecy. I really shouldn’t tell you, but I have it on good authority he uses high tech, top secret operating tools. Tools that if they were to fall into the wrong hands it would be catastrophic to world peace; the thought I was placed in a trance to prevent me feeling intense pain crossed my mind but was dismissed.
I really can’t say how long the surgery lasted. Security at the hospital is stellar; prior to my surgery they removed my glasses and watch. I can understand why they removed my glasses, I can’t see without my glasses. If I were to wake during the procedure I would be unable to see a thing. I suppose sight during certain operations is considered National Security risks?
I don’t know how long I had been asleep, remember they removed my watch; all I know is I was shaken awake by an unknown assailant. “Mr. Raballard my name is Brucie and I’m going to take you to your room” I was too groggy to pay much attention or put up any kind of resistance. The ride to my room was nondescript, I slept all the way. I was jarred awake when I was transferred from gurney to bed. Mrs. Raballard and Daughter Raballard were in my room waiting for me. Tears rolling down there cheeks, both smiling brighter than the sun. The recovery was going to be a breeze; I had such a great support team. Wrong, oh not the part about my support team being great, the part about my recovery being a breeze. The breeze part was further then the truth then any cliché could imagine.
I was promised a three day hospital stay. Three days from start to finish. I hate hospitals, I fear them, I have a sever case of Hospitalstayaphobia. Three days in the hospital for me is an eternity. I figured I would sleep most of the days away so I could do three days. I might have been able to do three days, we’ll never know, I wasn’t given that option. No sooner had I been placed into my hospital bed my fever skyrocketed, my blood sugar doubled, and my blood pressure went up. Somewhere between the operating room and my room I had contracted pneumonia. My three day hospital stay flew out the window; I was stuck in the hospital until I was well. The only positive thing I could look forward to was my morphine cocktail every two hours.
OK let’s review my condition 1) I am stuck in a place I hate. 2) I just had major surgery. 3) I have a deadly disease, which I have to recover from before I can recover from my surgery. 4) The nurses see nothing wrong with giving me another habit (morphine) 5) my roommate was in the hospital to detox. He would actually howl at the moon while swearing at the staff. I am not a happy camper; well I am not a happy camper for only a few minutes every two hours. It is hard to be unhappy doped up on morphine.
The remainder of my stay is quite humiliating and embarrassing, so I will close my eyes and type the rest of the story, in hopes I can get through it without blushing. GUIyfkopannb akwojnabs k aiwnk, Oh dear I forgot I don’t touch type, I hunt peck type.
There are certain parts of the body that kind of swell up to enormous sizes directly after prostate cancer surgery. I will not tell exact parts, but I will give you an example. My marbles turned into bowling balls, and I was able to bowl for almost three weeks after the surgery.
I was suppose to get up and walk every few hours, the only problem with that was every time I stood up I would bleed from unseen places. Not a simple stream of blood, I was the Niagara Falls of bleeding.
Let me paint you a picture, I am weak from surgery/pneumonia, I have to walk every few hours to gain my strength, and every time I get up I leave a trail of blood, and I am going “bowling”. Not a pretty picture.
My three day hospital stay stretched into ten days. My pneumonia disappeared. My roommate checked himself out of the hospital. I was released into the loving arms of my support team. I was now free to finish my recovery in the comforts of Raballard Manor. My bowling days lasted for a few more weeks, I was able to return to work just after Thanksgiving, all was right with the world. Well as right as I am allowed. It seems as if the world isn’t right unless I have an adventure to overcome. My cancer is gone; I won’t have to go on that adventure again. My next adventure is humiliating and embarrassing. My next adventure starts March 3, with another meet and greet at the hospital. I won’t go into the details of my next adventure, but I will give you a tiny clue. You have seen the little boy fountain?
Ok I have finished, the tale is over. I hope you enjoyed my cancer. Please return for my next adventure, coming to a blog near you.
As always, I miss you when you are not here, so please come back.
PS The poor souls court ordered to my blog are still sleeping in the rear of my blog, let’s not awaken them when you leave.