Snip Snip

That was quite the cliffhanger!

The last thing I remember before going under the knife was crying to my girlfriend and mother (literally) about how scared I was. Pussy right?

Surgery is the most surreal experience of my life. At one point I am drugged into a dreamless coma. Eventually I wake up and someone has cut into my body and done shit to it which I cant fathom. I don't know what day it is, how much time has gone by, what happened, etc.
Pain. The pain wasn't bad...with enough Fentanyl coursing through your veins, nothing hurts nor matters.
Hunger. My body was pissed and I hadn't eaten in almost a day. The catch? Being the only person in the vascular ward without coronary disease or diabetes did not exempt me from partaking in their heart healthy meals. Salt-less, tasteless, grease-less, flavor-less nutrient units. Hardly food. I had my steady drip of visitors smuggle in wraps and smoothies from the cafeteria. I felt like an oracle; humble servants would make the pilgrimage with offerings of flowers and food. Occasionally a bull was sacrificed at my feet and blood smeared around my scars while the guts were set afire and read over my face!
While I "enjoyed" my time moving my bed up and down and numbing my cerebral with reruns of Jersey Shore, eventually I would have to move. A walker was conveniently constructed before me and I was eager to move around.
Pain. I could not even sit up to get up. My body felt weak and my incisions felt to be ripping at the seams. Wincing and bitching I was forced upright by a pose of RNs and told to stand. Pain. Standing upright was a pipe dream. I hobbled forward one shuffle at a time, my posture making Quasimodo look like a ballet dancer. Counting tiles until I reached the door, then about face and back to the bed. Exhausted.
This continued for days until I was wheeled into my mothers minivan and sent home. No change. Night sweats, pain, 15 min ordeals to reach the bathroom to piss. Jersey Shore. Kim Kardashian. History. drug induced bliss. No poop
It was 6 or 7 days before I pooped post-op. I wanted to poop sooner but was told not to push for fear or bursting a stitch. Epically constipated I sucked down Smooth Move tea and fiber for days. There was gurgling and rumbling, but no one at the gate. Then one day it happened. In a multi second whoosh which required zero effort my bowls were expulsed. It must have been at least 5 pounds of fecal matter. Felt amazing.
Soon after there was a snap in the recovery. I was only running simple pain killers and slowly standing upright. Once I could walk well enough without pain I returned to Harrisonburg (2 weeks post-op) to get back to life.