Waking up after surgery is always a good sign, but memories of that particular stage is foggy to say the least. The scariest part was hearing someone say, "Angel, he’s beginning to wake up." (But in retrospect, I guess it’s better than hearing Beelzebub or something similar.)
"Sir, do you need anything?" a voice from the fog asked.
"Yes, I want some water." I replied.
""Nothing for a while yet. You might throw up and cause complications" was her answer.
"Why? What difference does it make if I die of thirst or from throwing up?"
"You’ll live" she assured me.
In my foggy remembrances, there was a nurse sitting there with another clipboard and I assumed she was going to ask them same questions again. But then I noticed she was checking the dials and writing things down.
"What’s my chances?" I asked.
"About 99.9% unless you give us a hard time" she replied.
My next memories are of being rolled back to the room. Kind of reminded me of those TV shows of them pushing a gurney down the hall and the camera gets the patient’s perspective of the lights flashing overhead as they pass under. I moaned "water" a few times so those standing along the hall would know I was in dire need of something to drink. (I was hoping one of them would overpower the orderlies and offer me a drink of water!)
Finally I come to the room and the nurse hands me a buzzer and says reassuringly "if you need anything, just press the buzzer and I’ll be right here."
Just as she heads out the door, I press the buzzer. "What do you want?" she asks from the door.
"Can I have something to eat?’ I plead.
"Nothing till after 7PM" she says and immediately disappears. I press the button again.
"Now what do you want" she asks as she rounds the door.
"Can I have some water or ice?"
"No!" she says with hands on hips. Then with a pointed finger she includes, "If you press that button again before 7PM and ask for anything to eat or drink, they are going to have to take you back to surgery to remove that buzzer!"
Well that convinced me so I lay the button down and look at the clock 5:45PM. I think to myself that they have to be trying out some sort of torture method
Finally at 7PM (not one minute sooner) Florence Nightingale shows up with a big glass of water and a tray of liquids for supper. Now folks, normally I like to chew my food, but that tray looked awfully good after 22 hours of NOTHING.
The surgery doctor comes by and I over hear him tell the nurse "his diet can be as tolerated". I immediately ask the Warden to go get me a bacon cheeseburger and fries.
The nurse overhears my request and says "Sir, without your gall bladder, you will not be able to tolerate much fat in your diet".
So folks, here I sit this morning finishing this story, thankful I lived through the surgery and FINALLY figuring out what that torture method is they had planned. A life without tasty food! I’ll be skin and bones in a month!