Tuesday, May 31, 2005

The Cod God Be Sicketh-Part 3

Saturday 5/21 FINALLY!!

Well, the doc was (surprise, surprise) in bright and early at 7:05 and boy was she cooperative. She actually put me on the morphine pump and everything.

While she was doing that, I had asked if the lack of timely service from the nurses was the result of being terribly busy or what. She informed me that it was “Nothing terrible. Why?”

I mentioned that the night before I had buzzed the nurse’s desk several times only to be ignored and that it took an act of congress just to get one in here for my roommate or myself.

She tersely said “I did not know that” and left the room immediately. She came back a few minutes later and told me that the people at the desk weren’t passing along any of her instructions to the nurses….ever.

Man, she was PISSED!!

I found out later from someone else that she had ripped all the ladies at the desk a new one and threatened to report them if they did it again. She must have looked like a psychotic Chihuahua barking at the neighborhood kids while she did it....all 4'10" and 90lbs of her. It's nice to know, and see, that it was just a lack of communication. Albeit, an important lack, but just a lack.

The whole episode did end up making me feel a little bit better, but I also felt kind of guilty that I had been so pissed off at the doctor the whole time. Then again, it may have just been the continuous flow of narcotics coursing through my veins. Oh well, at least it everything was all straightened out after that.


Another high point of the day was when my nurse surprised me with a ginger ale of a wonderful vintage from her own personal collection. It was fragrant, crisp, and dry with just a hint of L'ouvrier en sueur d'usine. That was followed up with a delightful collection of L'eau gelée de robinet de Portsmouth. It was the absolute pinnacle of fine dining.

The rest of the day ended up being my most comfortable day of the week... and boy did those desk jockeys page those nurses awfully quick whenever someone paged them. It was like someone had reminded them that they are there to help others, not help themselves to the last donut in the break room. I wonder why.

Good times.

Sunday 5/22

Today was probably the most mentally draining day of my stay. Yeah, yeah…I know. It would only take an eyedropper to mentally drain me. Har-fucking-har Bface and Bob.

A few of the reasons that it blew monkeys so bad was…

  1. the day started off by the cafeteria sending up a plate of food for me by accident but the nurse ended up sending it away when it got to the door….talk about the ultimate Cod-tease
  2. I was still physically wiped out from the abortion that was Friday
  3. I only slept two hours
  4. I was still at square one as far as my diet was concerned…ice chips and ginger ale all around! Maybe they’ll bring me the gourmet ice if I ask nicely
  5. The usual doctor didn’t come in today; it was some Doogie Howser looking dude whose mother didn’t know that he was out playing doctor.

and so on…

As far as I-Was-A Teenaged-Doctor was concerned, he came in exuding confidence. I think that when he was looking at some scribbles on a torn envelope produced from his back pocket, furrowed his brow and asked if I was “Hank”, that it became obvious that I was in good hands.

Of course, I thought that he was joking so I replied that “Hank” was at Mass General having a colonoscopy just for fun.

He then started quickly shuffling through his three other torn up envelopes looking really confused.

I really couldn’t believe what I was seeing before me. After watching him squirm for a minute or two, I let him off the hook by suggesting that he take a gander at that thing cleverly disguised as my chart so conveniently located under the big sign that had my name on it. That seemed to help him out a bit.

While we talked about the usual doctor-patient shit, I didn’t end up offering up too much in the way off information. I wanted to see if he could actually read. Luckily, he could.

While all this way going on, a quick thought of the former Washington Redskins could’ve-been-great defensive end, Dexter Manley went though my head (yeah, I know…it went though my head because there was nothing to stop it). He went through 4 years of college and couldn’t even read! I was really hoping that lightning hadn’t struck twice.

Anyways, after Doogie went away to lament over life’s biggest mysteries like how those little bubbles get in those cans of soda and why is it “I before E except after C?”, everything settled into a giant bore-fest that continued throughout the rest of the day.

No wife.

No kids.

It was Sunday morning so there was nothing on TV except for those holy-roller shows.

The nurse was so ugly that there was no point in calling her just to watch her handle my pee on my demand.

The new roommate was snoozing….and snoring. Speaking of him, when he stumbled in the day before I thought that he looked familiar. After seeing him a couple of more times I realized from where that I knew him from. He was an ex-fisherman who still hung around the pier on occasion to visit his friends. Not only that, but his wife ended up being one of my eldest son’s teachers. It’s a small world, I guess.

Eventually, the day took a giant turn for the better. I was sitting there daydreaming about blondes and Benelli’s when the one and only Wheel Gun Bob and his roommate came stumbling in reeking of old whiskey, cheap perfume and fresh mimosa’s.

At first I was a bit disappointed that he didn’t bring me any guns or porn, but he did bring me the one thing that could use to access both at once.

A laptop computer!

Oh, lucky day!

Seriously, I was psyched to get it. I only wish that one of us had thought about it earlier in my stay, but oh well. Better late than never, right? (as a young buck, I almost had that phrase tattooed on my back…it became my mantra, always while waiting for my various lady-friends' menstrual cycle to begin)

After a chat about the usual stuff (guns and women…where they are and why aren’t we holding one right at this moment? ), Wheel Gun Bob and his roommate headed off for the Late-Risers Brunch at the local Guns n’ Gash club.

That having occurred, I sat back for the rest of the day and watched some TV doped-up on morphine and thanked god that I was one day closer to death.

Next post....

Part 4-Things are looking up!


At 3:57 PM, Blogger Erin Nicole said...

finally...the story might get less depressing. ;)

At 6:35 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Benelli's, Betties, Bob, and Booze? What could make a hospital stay better?

Too bad three of the four were MIA for you dude. Better luck next time.

At 8:33 PM, Blogger The Cod God said...

I think I have an out. I'm going for the bottle of vodka/surgical tubing/anus thing. That way I can honestly say that I haven't had a drink in weeks.

At 7:23 PM, Blogger Wheel Gun Bob said...

I can tell you, it works like a charm. I use it so I can actually talk while I'm "drinking."


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