Anecdotes from a hospital-based boytoy

Ah, the journal… Now if only I could start writing like a human being again. I’ve found out that I am typing mistakes more often and using incomplete sentences more often because I’ve been stuck on the T900 pager the last week and keeping things tied into my friends online through that.

There’s so much I can say here and so much I want to say – stuff still going on and stuff that I want to talk about to specific people but the time isn’t right.

My hospital stay started with a bang – well not really, it was more like an “Oh shit!” when I forced myself to look at the clock besides my bed and see that it was 6 Am. I was due at the hospital at 5:45… Crap. I jumped, got dressed and got the hell out of dodge… Didn’t get tied up in traffic and actually got to the Hospital before my scheduled operation time… Not just that, was only a few minutes late going into the OR.

Was it scary? Going under the knife is always scary but it wasn’t scary like last year. There was something still sitting with me that was scarier and I was trying to accept things as moving on because of it. O course, waking up and having a mask put on me again didn’t make me feel comfortable either but then again – blacking out and waking up in post-op was about what I expected next.

Though I did dream. Of what, I don’t recall, but I am certain I dreamt this time I was under. I don’t usually dream. Last time I dreamt anything, it was of green clouds during my first operation.

ANYWAY, I wake up in the Post-op/recovery center and I’m watching the clock, of all things, because I was hoping to catch someone on a TV Talk show at 12:30. Of course it’s around 2 at the time and my priorities are out of whack but then again – I guess this also showed my confidence now. Oh sure, I was in pain, I was in a neck brace, and I had little movement in my legs (Muscle relaxants) but I was ready to start recovery.

I’ll tell more soon, other things take precedence now – like sleep.