I really dislike people worrying about me and fussing over me, taking care of me. It makes me feel helpless, like I'm a child again. This past week has not been easy for me.
It's the job of the nurses at the hospital to prep you for surgery, to make sure you're comfortable and doing all right afterwards, but it really just drove me nuts. Whenever I needed to take a piss, I needed to call for a nurse to come in so she could unhook me from the various monitoring devices, then when I was done, I'd call them again to hook me back up to the machines.
Being practically bedridden, even if only for a day, is one of the worst feelings I've ever had, worse than the pain I began feeling a month ago that led to all this. It's ... I don't know if humiliating is the right word, but it's certainly something like that. Frustrating, I guess.
I hated that my parents were by my side the whole time, before and after the surgery. I know they were there out of love and concern and they wanted me to feel comfortable, but really, they were there to make themselves feel comfortable. They were there because they felt they had to be, that it was their responsibility as parents or something, because they certainly didn't want to be there. No one wants to spend a day at the hospital. I just ... I felt like they were wasting their time. There had to have been better things to do than just sit by my bedside.
Of course, like I said, I hate it when people worry about me.
I just wanted to get the whole thing over with. We got to the hospital at 10:30 Tuesday morning and I almost immediately went for my CAT scan. Then back to the waiting room for all of five minutes before being ushered to my pre-op room, where I got to strip and put on one of those lovely, all-concealing hospital gowns. I then spent about four hours lying in bed, my parents by my side (and my sister for a little bit), waiting for the results of the CAT scan and my doctor to show up.
I read a little, watched some TV, so, really, it was a lot like being at home. Except for the nudie-gown and the nurses who kept coming in to give me meds or get information or explain what was going to be happening. My doctor eventually arrived a bit late and gave us the quick rundown regarding the CAT scan and the surgery, then he went off to perform a similar surgery on someone else before it was my turn.
Turns out that the kidney stone hadn't really moved at all since the first CAT scan, which is why I hadn't been feeling any pain for nearly a week prior to arriving at the hospital. It was just kinda sitting there, nestled against my kidney, 4-5 mm of ... something. After it was taken out, they took it to be analyzed. I guess that takes a couple weeks.
Finally, a little after three, they were ready for my surgery. I don't remember much after they gave me the sleepy meds. I remember being rolled from the room I was in across the hall to the OR. I remember scooching off my roller bed onto the operating table. I think I said something about how I normally would have wanted this to be over before eight, because of House, but House wasn't on due to a two-hour American Idol. And then ... I woke up in the recovery room.
It must have been about 5:30 or so when I woke up. I remember being disappointed that I had missed PTI, which is on at 4:30. I hadn't eaten since about seven the night before, and my stomach was flipping between queasiness from the meds and the surgery, and rumbling due to hunger.
My parents were there, and they stuck around 'til around seven, I guess, before they went for dinner. It appeared that I was in the good hands of some cute nurses, which, after all, are the best kind of nurses. Except when, you know, they need to check on where you were operated on, which for me meant taking a look at a sort of shrunken (because of the pain, people) penis with bits of string sticking out of the hole, which, you know, isn't the sort of thing one normally shows off.
The doctor had put a stent in, between my kidney and bladder, to make sure the ... urethra, I guess, didn't close up after he pulled the kidney stone out (boy, am I glad I was unconscious for that). And the stent is still there, waiting to be pulled out by these strings that are dangling from my tip. To be honest, I feel perfectly fine right now, except for the irritation and discomfort of having bits of string coming out of my penis. And I have to wait 'til Monday morning before I get this thing yanked out, and believe me, I'll be popping a few pain meds before that happens.
So I've just been hanging around the house the past couple days, watching TV, reading comics. I try not to move too much, because it just feels kinda weird when the strings move around or rub up against my underwear, though I did go to class last night. And the dentist yesterday morning (only one more visit to go!). I tried working on this paper for class on Thursday, but my mind was a bit muddled still, by the pain meds, I guess. I got an extension, anyway, so I can hand it in on Tuesday. I also have a midterm on Tuesday, for which the professor was kind enough to email me the review sheet. I'm not too concerned about it, even though I missed all of this past week's classes. It's the Interviewing class, and I think I have a pretty good handle on what he told us in class before we began our first round of mock interviews.
The final episode of The O.C. was Thursday night, but I was watching Grey's Anatomy instead, so I'm currently downloading a torrent of the episode. That show, The O.C., was really good for two seasons, because of all the wonderful Jewish and comic book references (the very best kind of references, I might add), then they completely jumped the shark in the third. I'm still trying to figure out why. I guess the Schwartz (series creator Josh Schwartz) wasn't working on it as much as he had the first two years, and they lost one of their key writers/producers, the Heinberg (Allan Heinberg), who now, coincidentally, writes and produces for Grey's Anatomy.
Anyway, this year had been better than last, but really, once Grey's had switched to the same time slot, it was only a matter of time before The O.C. got the ax.
The Oscar awards are Sunday night. I'll probably write up a quick ballot later today with my picks. I entered this contest that the Omaha World-Herald was having, where you picked your winners and then, depending on how well you guessed compared to the Herald's film critic, you win ... stuff. I'm not entirely sure, actually. So I entered and then Tuesday morning, as I was getting ready to head to the hospital, the film critic calls my cell phone for some quick quotes concerning the Oscars. I guess there's going to be an article in the Sunday paper.
I suppose it's time to head upstairs and hop in the shower. Then lunch. Then ... I dunno, I've been watching the Buffy DVDs, because I finally got the final five seasons (Amazon was having such a great sale around the holidays, with all the seasons for $20 each. I should have gotten Angel at the same time), so I'm working my way through them. Nearly done with season 2 right now. Four more episodes to go.
I'm also in the middle of season 3 of Homicide, which I need to start watching again.
And maybe I'll do some writing and/or studying sometime today, too.
For the screenwriting class, I decided that I needed to take the short story I wrote for my fiction class last semester and work on turning that into a screenplay. I tried to work on some other stuff, but this story just won't leave me alone. It wants to be finished, though I think I might need to speak with my ... inspiration to get a few facts straight. It was all so long ago, y'know?
Incidentally, I changed the name of the girl in the story. I figured, you know, since I used my middle name, it was only right that I use hers, too.