I had my first

surgery a couple of weeks ago, a gall bladder removal. It's amazing how

narcissistic one becomes after one's body has been violated by sharp knives,

penetrated by long needles, and stuff removed that has been in place for

decades. Here are some things I wish people had told me before the surgery:

1) You will

probably be insulted by the medical staff. I admit that I am a bit overweight.

Okay, I will admit that I'm more than just a bit overweight. I have, however,

lost 24 pounds in the last two months but, with my weight, that's like

Moby Dick losing three scales. I know whales are mammals, not fish, and

that whales don't have scales. I'm making a point here. Still, that doesn't

give the doctor the liberty to say, "We'll have to make some deep

incisions on you!" Or the operating room nurse permission to say,

"It's obvious that you don't lead an active lifestyle."

All that made me very sensitive about strangers seeing me naked while

I was unconscious. If they said that to my face, what did they say when

I was asleep?

2) The surgical

preparation won't be as thorough as you'd like it to be. The prep people

will shave enough area so that the doctor will be able to make the incisions,

but they will make sure that, when they tape they wounds, they cover enough

hair to make the removal of said tape as painful as the incision itself.

I don't know why they can't just go ahead and shave an extra ten square

inches. It's probably something about the HMOs. Next time, before surgery,

I'm taking a bath in Nair.

3) They will

lie to you. The nurse in the O.R. prep area said that, before I woke up

following the surgery, I would receive pain medication so that I would

wake up "comfortable." Bull pookey-dookey. When I woke up, I

felt like the guy in the battle scene in "Braveheart" that got

shot in the abdomen by five arrows in the gut and was left wriggling in

the dirt like a worm in a hot skillet. Something about low blood oxygen

levels during surgery, they said. They wanted to make sure I wasn't going

to die as a result of something or the other so they didn't give me the

medication until they were certain I was safe, they said. I don't care.

Give me drugs! Daffy Duck once said, "I'm not like other people pain

hurts me!" Daffy and me (Oops! Daffy and I) are a lot alike. A friend

laughed and said, "I thought you were a Marine!" I growled,

"Marines inflict pain, they don't like to take pain." He backed

off.

4) You will

not care about basic human dignities. Skip this paragraph if you are easily

offended or if you don't believe that clergy persons are human. I remember

when I was a teen and, on a youth retreat to Buffalo Mountain Camp, wandered

into the boy's rest room and saw the minister well, using the rest room.

It was the first time that I realized that ministers used the rest room

like normal people. It sort of took Moses and Elijah (and my minister)

off that high pedestal and made them more approachable. Anyway, they gave

me a choice on going to the bathroom. One was a bottle on the table next

to my bed. The other was the prospect of dragging my violated body out

of bed, risk forgetting about the I.V. that goes everywhere with you and

pulling the thing out of your arm, and walking the 200 miles to the rest

room that is seven steps away. And then going back the other 200 miles

seven steps away, holding your abdomen so that your guts don't fall out

in the floor and make the janitor mad. The bottle, and the possibility

of visitors walking in on you, wins out every time. Always knock before

you go into a hospital room. You may see your minister fall off the pedestal

otherwise.

5) You will

have weird dreams. My first night home, I had a dream that someone was

on my back trying to choke me to death. I woke up wheezing and couldn't

get