It was the best of times, It was the Blurst of times

So much happened to me while I was in the hospital, that it makes me tired to think about. Since I get tired now from doing almost anything, I don't like to think about the hospital much anymore.

But the people demand the truth, and who am I to deny them.

The truth is, I think in my last blog I completely forgot to mention the fact that when I woke up in the hospital after about 3 days of being heavily sedated not only did I have a huge scar and a bag attached to my stomach, I had 3 separate drain tubes stuck onto me also.

If you are reading this, and know what a drain tube is, then you are clearly a nurse, or related to someone who has had drain tubes stuck to their body. I know what you're thinking, you're thinking "hey wouldn't people related to nurses know what drain tubes are also?" the answer is: not really.

Nurses understand that people they are related to don't want to hear about the icky parts of their job and so don't generally share them with people unless it comes up naturally in conversation. Honestly, I can't really imagine what kind of conversation drain tubes would come up in, unless it was some sort of comparison to moves where drain tube like objects are used to suck up human parts from our bodies.

What is a drain tube? You might reasonably ask even though you have probably already hazarded a guess already from the name and from my description of alien probes. A drain tube is long tube stuck inside your body that in my case was draining infection into little plastic tubbie looking things.

So, I had 3 drain tubes arranged around my abdomen, an 8 inch long and 1 inch deep or so hole in my stomach, a stoma with a big plastic ostomy bag attached to that, as well as being hooked up to an iv and having both arms papered in bandages and cuts of all shapes and sizes.

Fortunately by this time, the penis tube and breathing tube up my nose were gone so I didn't completely look like a science experiment gone wrong.

A stoma is also another word that fits neatly into the same narrow category that a drain tube does in that the general public has never heard of it.

Basically after they went in and cut me open, my insides were so diseased that they were unable to close up my colon correctly, so they bypassed it, sealed it off and grabbed a portion of my guts and moved them to the outside of my body where they resemble nothing so much as the little red and pink head of some Dune like space worm coming out of my stomach which spits out internal waste constantly and has to be sealed over with a plastic baggie to prevent me soiling myself and consistently grossing out anyone in the immediate vicinity.

I was told however that this procedure was temporary and after I heal up, the process would be reversed and possibly a small portion of colon would have to be removed in order for this to happen. It's really sad when your wildest fantasies involve pooping normally.

So having heard that great news from a battery of multi-ethnic doctors and nurses, I was very relieved that I would probably not be a hideous freak the rest of my life.

This news, as truly terrific as it was, did nothing to shield me from the sheer torture of being in a bed for the next 5 days next to a guy with the most nasally monotone voice you can imagine, who seemed to be there because he hit his Chinese wife and then fled the scene and crashed his vehicle into a tree. At least that was what I could ascertain from his dozens of hushed phone calls where he would furiously deny to anyone who would listen that he didn't do anything wrong and he didn't know why he was there.

His phone calls would usually end with him saying "listen I'll have to call you back" because an authority figure had entered the room and he would repeatedly lie to them or change his story about what happened. To say it was excruciating to listen to would be an understatement.

At this point I should be wrapping up todays segment so I can go downstairs and make a yogurt fruit and protein smoothie to go to bed with, so I can wake up and take forever to eat breakfast and then think about all the things that I have to do, but not actually do any of them until 12 o'clock at which time I stand a great chance of being completely derailed by my Dad who will ask me to send an email, and then stand over my head while I type it for him.

Till we meet again, hopefully tomorrow.

Toodles,

Josh