For those of you who live under a rock or do not text me on a regular basis, you might not be aware that a week ago my small intestine tried to choke the life out of my uterus and I ended up having emergency abdominal surgery to remove over two feet of my possessed cannibalistic innards.
This is just a prime example of the kind of luck that I have. It happened at my new job the first day I was to step up and officially take over for the outgoing person in my position. I got to be rushed to the hospital by a woman I barely know as I groaned in agony, hoping that my stomach would not explode all over the inside of her very nice, very clean Lincoln Navigator.
It was a wonderful bit of irony that allowed me to decide to wear a completely impractical pair of old spanx-type underwear to work that day. They were like old beat up bike shorts that were full of runs and much to tight on my stomach to be comfortable – by the time people were poking and looking down in my underwear region, they were rolled down, sweaty and exactly the reason your Mother tells you to wear nice clean underwear when you leave the house… in case this happens. You know you are in a lot of pain when you finally ask your sister to help you rip off your spanx-wear and start walking around the hospital with your entire butt exposed. There comes a point when you just don’t care anymore.
Since pre-hospital I have been dieting like a professional my last thought as I succumbed to anesthesia in the operating room was I wonder who much two feet of intestines weighs? Weight loss was helped after surgery because I was not allowed to eat or drink anything for four days.. and since I felt so shitty I didn’t really care – I thought this is the best diet boost ever. (I am currently down five pounds since the surgery and wondering how much other superfluous organs weigh – like my appendix or my tail bone?)
Post surgery I spent five days in the hospital dealing with a myriad of competencies. I had nurses that were awesome and understanding and compassionate and I had a couple that scared me – one I nicknamed scatterbrained Jane who I checked with twice every time she tried to inject me with something because I’m pretty sure she thought I was someone else, I picked up on this when she tried to send me downstairs for an ultrasound (something that I did not need and had nothing to do with my recovery process)… One night I had a nurse who was a perfect blend of Kathy Bates in Misery and the woman who declared the house from Poltergeist to be clean. I spent a sleepless night watching for her to sneak into my room and break my ankles.
I knew I was getting better and was ready to come home when I started getting hungry and my diet was changed from nothing – to clear liquids – to post surgical bland. You know things are improving when you get excited for flan.
P.S. I do know that my tail bone is not an organ…