It was only a few months after the
infamous “placing a VW Bug between two tress” incident that the first serious
down payment was made on what would become on going payments.
I was beginning to walk around
like a crippled old man — hunched over and limping. The pain in my groin was
irritating. The doctor said I had a hernia, whatever that was. All I was sure
of was that it hurt. It turns out that it was only going to get worse unless I
had surgery, but the sooner the better.
I chose mid January of my senior
year. Of course, I had planned on healing very quickly. That didn’t happen.
I checked into the hospital on a
Sunday night with surgery scheduled for 7:00 the next morning. This was my
first stay in the hospital so I didn’t really know what to expect. It was a
little disconcerting when some guy walked in with a pan of warm water, a razor
and shaving cream telling me he was going to shave me, ahem, down there. WHAT!
Yes, sir, that is right where the incision is going. It must be done. After
adjusting to my embarrassment and accepting the inevitable, I prepared myself
emotionally for him and the surgery.
I think they came along about 6:30
a.m. to wheel me upstairs. The ride was pleasant with a friendly driver. He
pushed me through the double doors and right along side a cart with enough
shiny silver instruments to take on the entire Omaha stockyards. Someone adjusted
a light over me and another person took my right arm and gave me a shot. I was
told, “This will relax you.” I hoped so, as tension was mounting.
I didn’t hear anything for a few
minutes and when I looked around there was no one in the room. To my left were
all the knives up close and personal and the room was getting cold. They did
not put a blanket over me and I didn’t know where everyone had gone or why they
left. I wasn’t even sure that if I shouted anyone would answer.
It felt like it had been an hour
before anyone returned and then if was a lone nurse who walked in, ignored me
and went to my left doing something along a counter. I gave her a few moments
to determine I was here before I called out, “Nurse.” “Yes.” She turned and
came over near me. “What is going on?” “Didn’t anyone tell you/” “Tell me
what?” “Did you know it snowed during the night?" “No.” “Well apparently,
the doctor scheduled to do your surgery is stuck in the snow in his driveway
and when he gets dug out he will be here.” “You’re kidding, why am I here in
this freezing cold room?” “Would you like a blanket?” I would if I’m going to
be here much longer.” “They want you ready to go when the doctor arrives.” “How
long will that be?” “I wish I could tell you.”
I think it was another half an
hour before the doctor arrived. Someone mentioned that I have been in the
operating room over an hour. I also think the nurse was feeling sorry for me.
She stayed to talk until the doctor was ready. I learned she was a graduate of
Central high and that her younger brother was a student there now. Worse yet, I
knew him. I turned red just knowing this girl, the sister of a friend, was
about to see me lying stark naked in just a few moments. I wished we had never
talked.
The surgery went well and family
and friends began arriving that evening. I wanted Tom banned from my room. He
was determined to tell one joke after the other and every laugh pulled on the
newly acquired stitches. It hurt like… (I don’t say that word). He was funny
and I couldn’t help but laugh, but I didn’t want to.
That was the only surgery I had
for that one act of stupidity, but I have seen chiropractors hundreds of times
and certainly more than paid of any one of their Mercedes.
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