We Interrupt This Broadcast...

In a cruelly ironic twist, whilst writing this bit about the time I put myself in the hospital I actually ended up in the hospital per an entirely unrelated event. Last weekend, after enduring several hours of wrenching pain in my digestive track, I finally succumbed to my roommmate's will and took a trip to the hospital. I was therein informed that my appendix would have to be removed within the next few hours. Being unable to perform such an operation myself, I resigned to the doctor's knife and got down to business.

What a worthless organ the appendix is. What the hell is it? What does it do? Whence has it come? All worthy questions. Wikipedia defines it as such: "Currently, the function of the appendix, if any, remains controversial in the field of human physiology." In my body, however, the function of the appendix seems quite obvious: to fall victim to inflammatory, catastrophic failure (a failure of an aforementioned, unknown function) and render me susceptible to great pain and general physical misery.

Thanks to this wonder-filled, vestigial organ, I underwent a laparoscopic surgery, which means instead of one, big cut into my abdomen, they made several small ones. Then they pumped my abdomen full of gas so that they could fit more things than there already are in this overly crowded area. Little cameras, knives, and other surgical-type instruments. Then they cut up my appendix from the inside and removed it piecemeal, sort of like some strange male abortion.

I spoke with one of my friends recently who, in reference to the ER story I interrupted to tell this ER story, called me "Captain Hospital." I felt the title was a little unnecessary, being that two visit to the hospital in 30 years hardly seem worthy of giving me a Captain rank and insignia. Not to mention this one really was outside my control. On the bright side, my nurses were cute. On the other hand, they collected my pee bottle the morning I was there. Nothing says handsome and self-reliant like dumping out someone's pee bottle. I shared a room with this crazy Persian guy who kept telling me how good he felt in between fits of vomiting blood in the bathroom. I think he had e-coli or something, though he was confident he was healthy. He works at P.F. Chang's in La Jolla and promised me free drinks, if anyone wants to head out there. Assuming he isn't dead or something.

While I've been house ridden, recovering from surgery, I chanced upon a film of some doctors actually performing a laparoscopic surgery. They had all the tubes and cameras and knives inserted into this person's abdomen and they were going to town, wrenching things this way and that, jerking things around and really using little to no gentleness whatsoever. I wondered, had my doctor been so violent? Then I started to think about how even the nurses and everyone else in the hospital would just jab and poke me and go about their job like it was a JOB, not like there are real humans on the other end of the needles they prodded around. I guess they were hardened to it and just wanted to get on with their days, which meant sticking one needle here just to move onto another needle in another arm. Needless to say, I think a little bit of courtesy and gentleness would go a long way. I mean, it isn't like I asked my appendix to burst. In the long run, I guess all of this is good since it offers me further incentive to stay out of the hospital. I can only hope that "Captain Hospital" is not a foreshadowing of things to come.

Thanks folks, for taking the time to appreciate my coincidence filled moment, and I now return you to your regularly scheduled program...