Laugh It Off.
So I'm in the hospital for my procedure. (One that I will not reveal, for TMI purposes.) I've done the prep, which was quite miserable and exhausting, to say the least. I'm starving, as I haven't eaten in two days, severely dehydrated, ready to pass out at any given moment. I'm the only human under 50 years old in the room. The nurse is finding a vein to insert my IV. I have no problem with needles, at all. But this IV insertion process is one that I will forever remember. She has my hand in hers, looking desperately for a vein in my hand. (The IV couldn't be inserted into one of my awesome arm veins, as nurses like to refer to them as, because of the position I have to be in for this particular procedure.) She's flicking at my hand, repetitively. "Ok, this is starting to hurt." I think to myself. "You can't find a vein?", I ask with a shocked look on my face. "Well, you're severely dehydrated.", she says, flicking, harder. The rubber strap she has wrapped around my arm is so tight, that m arm is starting to turn purple. She continues to flick my hand, really hard. "Nurses always tell me that I have great veins.", I say, as if I have to defend my veins or something. This really, really hurt.
She finally gets a vein, and inserts the IV. "Someone needs to retrain this lady on inserting IV's.", I'm thinking in my head. "That was terrible." I'm lead back to my bed, holding onto the nurses arm, well knowing that this is the beginning of a terrible adventure.
I'm finally taken in to the operating room. There, I meet my anesthesiologist, and my doctor. My primary care doctor was supposed to send over my blood results from a couple of weeks ago in order to do this procedure. I hear my doctor ask the nurse a question about my blood results in some fancy medical terms. "Umm, we never received her blood results.", she replies. "You what??" He responds. Oh great. He calls my primary care doctor, telling them, "She's on the table ready to go, please fax over her results immediately." I'm starting to get nervous. "Did your results come back normal?" "Totally.", I respond with certainty. "He said all of my levels were normal." "And you're sure?", he asks, as if I have something to hide. "No, I have Hepatitis C and AIDS.", I thought to myself. "Yes, I'm sure.", I say in an almost pissed off tone.
"Legally, I can't do this procedure. So let's wait fifteen more minutes for them to fax over the results.", says Dr. Geller. "Great.", I think to myself. This can not be going well. "So, how about them Yankees? Do you follow baseball?"
Ok. Stop right there. No, I do not follow baseball. And any time that question is stated in that exact fashion, means that something is wrong. Either, A. You're in an awkward situation and you are desperately fishing for a topic to talk about. B. You're on a bad date. Or C. Things are not going well. Considering the circumstances, I was in situation C. And things were definitely not going well. Ten minutes pass as I talk about about I don't understand the concept of football, big giant men chasing a little tiny ball filled with air. I get a couple of laughs out of everyone in the room, but I'm still lying there, nervous as all hell. "Ok, well, legally, I'm not supposed to do this, but let's go. Give her the anesthesia. Seriously? Ok. Fine. Go.
"Here comes the good stuff.", says the anesthesiologist. "This is Michael Jackson's favorite. I begin to laugh pretty loud. "Wait. Really?", I said, thinking he was kidding. "Yea, really. He used this stuff every day.", he replied with a smile on his face. "Man. That's crazy.", said, calming way down. "No no no! WAIT!", yells Dr. Geller. "You have GOT to be kidding me.", I think to myself. I'm pretty sure I gave an involuntary eye roll. "Umm, Dr. Geller, you better hurry up, I'm about to insert.", says the anesthesiologist. "What's your primary doctors first and last name and location?", he says in a complete rush. "Dr. Christopher Bader. Medical Arts Building in Centrastate Hospital...."Gone. I sure hope he got all of that.
Only when I am present, do situations like these happen. What seems totally unprofessional and inhumane, happens to me on a daily basis. I don't get mad or upset about it, I just laugh it off, adding it to my list of "Things That Happen To Ali, And Never To You." list. #542.
The recovery was a miserable one, as expected, considering the situation I went through. In fact, more that one day later, I am still uncomfortable. I'm just rolling with it.
The moral of the story, I guess, is to not get mad at situations that you have absolutely no control over. Could something have gone terribly wrong, had something actually been wrong with one of the counts in my blood? Probably. Did anything happen? I'm still walkin' around, friends. I've learned a long time ago to laugh off these kinds of situations, and roll with the punches. After all, I've much rather have things to laugh about, than things that I've been terrified about.
Current Listen: Discotech - Young Love
