UNIVERSAL DONOR: MA VIE EN CROUTE
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Universal Donor
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Thursday, February 17, 2005
So I have a hernia. It doesn't hurt anything except my well-nurtured delusion of everlasting youth. "Hernia." It sounds old. Old, gross, and wrinkly. The word smells like disinfectant, grandpa, and threadbare terrycloth robes. Oh shiver. I found the most disgusting picture possible that illustrates what I've got (though it is much more advanced in the illustration, thank god -- that dude looks like kielbasa are trying desperately to escape from his gut prison. Yeesh). The procedure they're gonna use to repair my hernia is called Hernioplasty, and it's cool because they're going to install a polypropylene mesh in my abdomen, which will make me into a kind of half-assed cyborg. The Doctor said he will affix the mesh with "titanium staples," which are much fucking cooler than regular office staples or those stupid stomach staples, which are probably made of a much lamer metal. (One lame metal is tellurium, which causes bad breath.)
I like this quote from the page describing hernioplasty: "You may not be a candidate for laparoscopic hernia repair... if your intestine is pushed down into the scrotum...." WAHHH! Oh ma gah! Can you fucking imagine? Sweet lord. "Quit scratching your balls, Skeeter!" "I ain't, Ma! I'm scratchin' my in-tes-tines! They's descended into m'nutsack!" Horrifying. My hernia has not, thank blessed Jesus, decided to take that route. The Doctor further warned me that .5% of patients who undergo this procedure say they can feel the mesh after recovery. Apparently, it is experienced as a very slight nagging sensation just over the threshold of detection, like when someone didn't quite lick all the Nutella off your balls, so all day you're walking around feeling just the eensiest bit sticky and hazelnutty? Well, I like those odds, Doc. Full speed ahead. Seeing as I've already reached down your throats and tugged your lunches back up, I'll relate a slightly icky medical story. My dad recently had a colonoscopy (which, if you didn't know, involves sticking a camera up his ass and taking a few holiday snapshots), and the night before the procedure he was given a prescription for this "bowel prep solution" -- essentially a palatable colon soap -- which bore the hilarious brand name Golytely. Get it? It's got electrolytes, hence the "lyte" part, and after drinking a gallon of this swill you will certainly "go" (ironically, quite heavily), and it's named in honor of Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany's, which is certainly a runny pile of poo of a movie. Normally, prescription brand names are just supposed to sound soothing and serious to the consumer, not amusing. But manufacturers of poop-related medical supplies seem to have a sense of humor about it; another funny brand name is for a drug that treats ulcerative colitis: Colazal. As in: "I had a colossally big ulcer in my colon until I started taking Colazal." Ha ha! Anyway. If any of you have hilarious surgical anecdotes to relate that might lighten the mood, feel free to share them with me. I'm not worried about the operation (it's outpatient, although I will be given general anaesthesia), but I love a story about hemorrhaging as much as or more than the next guy. 0 comments |
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