snipped
As you now know, sometimes I pass out for stupid reasons. I recently discovered, however, that I am also a sympathetic fainter. Unfortunately, these two discoveries happened one right after another. I've since decided that if I were a domino, I would be those frustrating pieces that won't stand up no matter how you position it, thus knocking down the entire track and preempting what was supposed to be an awesome destruction.
The morning after my sappy episode, David had some (minor) surgery done to remove a fatty tumor (lipoma) from his back (side note #1: we named it Larry). Measuring in at a couple of centimeters long (and it could have been longer since the doctor had to remove it in pieces), we decided to get it removed since (a) it seemed like it was growing abnormally (it was), and (b) to make sure it wasn't cancerous (it wasn't). So off to the doctor's office we went!
I had decided that I was going to be brave and read Nancy Drew if necessary to keep me in thinking brave thoughts (side note #2: I'm doing a research paper on Nancy Drew. Law school is finally being good to me). I wasn't too worried about passing out - though I'm not a guts and gore kind of gal, I've never had any issues before. Then again, I've also never been present during a live surgery.
As David lay there talking to the doctor (side note #3: they didn't put him completely under because a local anesthetic would do the trick), I wisely decided to look away when they began incisioning him. Except . . . I looked up in time to see his skin split. After that, I decided to be more wise and to not look up at all. What I didn't account for, however, was the sound. Because Larry was so big and fibrous, the doctor had to do a lot of snipping to get him out (let's just say that Larry really liked David since evidently he was pretty intertwined with David's back). As the doctor kept snipping and snipping the pain receptors in my brain went a little crazy. What if David could feel it because the doctor was snipping beyond the numbed area? What if the doctor was removing David's spinal cord? What if my husband were dying?
Before I knew it, my vision began to tunnel and my ears began to ring. It just so happened that the doctor looked up and saw my paling face at about the time that my eyes started to glass over (side note #4: I can't decide if that description makes me sound like a porcelain doll. In any event, it's a slightly creepy image). He had a nurse take me from the room to lie down on an examination table in a room down the hall.
It was a little awkward lying there. Unlike the hospital, they did not give me juice. I started to cry a little, not because I didn't get juice, but mostly because I was mad at myself for being such a wuss. Honestly! Twice in two days! But then I had to stop crying because a different doctor came into the room and that would have added to my embarrassment. I think he thought I was an abandoned patient, so I informed him that no, I was the woozy wife of a snipped patient. After telling him that (and after he inferred that he couldn't use his room until I was capable of standing up again), he left.
Finally after an eon of lying on the examination table, David's doctor came and led me back to where David was being bandaged up. At this point I was sad because I didn't get to see David's lump (side note #5: lumps kind of fascinate me), but I was too scared to ask because I thought the doctor would think I was crazy. And so we left.
All was well until the next night when David asked me to remove his bandages. Though I successfully removed them, I ended up sitting down on the floor for awhile afterward. David thought I was just being silly, but in reality, the world started spinning when I saw his incision (and no, it didn't look all that bad).
Moral of the story? I'm a wuss. But to put it more positively, if I love you and if you are in pain or if I think you are in pain and if your pain is something that I can conceptualize or have experienced myself, I will pass out, no questions asked.
The End.
I had decided that I was going to be brave and read Nancy Drew if necessary to keep me in thinking brave thoughts (side note #2: I'm doing a research paper on Nancy Drew. Law school is finally being good to me). I wasn't too worried about passing out - though I'm not a guts and gore kind of gal, I've never had any issues before. Then again, I've also never been present during a live surgery.
As David lay there talking to the doctor (side note #3: they didn't put him completely under because a local anesthetic would do the trick), I wisely decided to look away when they began incisioning him. Except . . . I looked up in time to see his skin split. After that, I decided to be more wise and to not look up at all. What I didn't account for, however, was the sound. Because Larry was so big and fibrous, the doctor had to do a lot of snipping to get him out (let's just say that Larry really liked David since evidently he was pretty intertwined with David's back). As the doctor kept snipping and snipping the pain receptors in my brain went a little crazy. What if David could feel it because the doctor was snipping beyond the numbed area? What if the doctor was removing David's spinal cord? What if my husband were dying?
Before I knew it, my vision began to tunnel and my ears began to ring. It just so happened that the doctor looked up and saw my paling face at about the time that my eyes started to glass over (side note #4: I can't decide if that description makes me sound like a porcelain doll. In any event, it's a slightly creepy image). He had a nurse take me from the room to lie down on an examination table in a room down the hall.
It was a little awkward lying there. Unlike the hospital, they did not give me juice. I started to cry a little, not because I didn't get juice, but mostly because I was mad at myself for being such a wuss. Honestly! Twice in two days! But then I had to stop crying because a different doctor came into the room and that would have added to my embarrassment. I think he thought I was an abandoned patient, so I informed him that no, I was the woozy wife of a snipped patient. After telling him that (and after he inferred that he couldn't use his room until I was capable of standing up again), he left.
Finally after an eon of lying on the examination table, David's doctor came and led me back to where David was being bandaged up. At this point I was sad because I didn't get to see David's lump (side note #5: lumps kind of fascinate me), but I was too scared to ask because I thought the doctor would think I was crazy. And so we left.
All was well until the next night when David asked me to remove his bandages. Though I successfully removed them, I ended up sitting down on the floor for awhile afterward. David thought I was just being silly, but in reality, the world started spinning when I saw his incision (and no, it didn't look all that bad).
Moral of the story? I'm a wuss. But to put it more positively, if I love you and if you are in pain or if I think you are in pain and if your pain is something that I can conceptualize or have experienced myself, I will pass out, no questions asked.
The End.
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