In yesterday's post I told you about the minor surgery I was having in the afternoon to remove a piece of shrapnel from my leg. It's been there for 39 years, but started bothering me about a month ago, so asked them to remove it.
I arrived at the hospital and reported in at Section 23. The woman told me to wait in the patient lounge. I started to walk away when she called to me and asked me my name. Guess that made sense, huh? I think it's a good idea if the doctor knows I'm here so we can get started.
I went into the lounge, sat down and started reading the newspaper I brought. If it's one thing I've learned, its when you have an appointment we the VA, bring something to occupy yourself. As like all government entities, they move at a snails pace. Almost immediately a male nurse came in the room to confirm who I was and to tell me as soon as the room was cleaned up from the last patient, we would get started.
I went back to my news paper and waited and waited and waited and waited. I got about half way through it when the nurse came back in and asked me if anyone had come in to talk to me.
"Nope," I replied.
He left and I waited and waited and waited and waited some more.
Finally a doctor came in pushing a cart with a computer on it. No more paper charts. It's all stored in the computer system. Which is really a good thing. It means that where ever I go in the VA system, my records are always available.
He introduce himself and told me that he was the assistant to the chief surgeon and would be assisting him during surgery. Cool! Got the big guy.
He then asked me a few questions about my medical history and read me the list of possible complications. By looking at what they had to do, he said he knew the possibility of complications was remote, but said he had to tell them to me anyway; rules you know.
He mentioned the typical things like infection. It's obvious that when you cut into someone that there is always a possibility of that. Then there was the bleeding. Well, duh! Your cutting my leg open so that's obvious. But the risk of dying from this struck me as kind of strange. I'm not sure how that could happen, but I suppose if my leg got infected and fell off, I might bleed to death in my sleep. I told him I understood and signed the electronic signature pad consent form he handed me.
He left and when he got into the hall, a doctor in scrubs walked up to him and the nurse and they chatted. Probably about what needed to be done. The nurse took the cart from the assistant and both doctors walked away. The nurse walked back into the room and told me to hang on for a little while more.
By now I'd been there about a half hour and almost finished with the paper. Wonder what was taking so long? Oh well, it's typical VA procedure. So I went back to my paper and waited and waited and waited some more.
Finally the nurse came in the lounge and told me they were ready. I followed him into the same room I was in two years ago when I had the polyp between my ass and balls removed by the "...very good-looking petite young lady Dr. O’Hara." I was a bit disappointed that it wouldn't be her again. She was a babe and you know how I like the babes. :-)
The nurse had me remove my pants (good thing I wore clean underwear) and my shoes and socks. He said I might get blood on them if I didn't remove them. Man, the doctor wasn't kidding about the bleeding, was he.
About then a young new young man and a good looking young woman walked into the room. (No Lori, I don't think she was checking out my package, but a guy can dream can't he? LOL) They introduced themselves. The young man an intern from Stony Brook University Medical School. (All of the interns and residents from the medical school come to this VA hospital to gain experience. They are supervised by the VA doctors, so it's no big deal, to me anyway.)
The young woman was the surgeon. Cool! She was a very pretty with sandy blond hair and a great body. Her tits weren't that big, but I guess I can't complain, because it could have been the old guy. Anyway, she asked me a few questions (one was were the shrapnel was) and then asked me how I got it. All three of them seemed fascinated by my explanation. She looked at me a said, "My father was in Vietnam." Oh well, now I'm a father figure. :-(
I asked the doctor if I could have the shrapnel, but she said no, that they had to send it to pathology, but if there was more than one piece, I could take my pick and keep one. Man, I was so hoping for a couple of nice pieces to add to my collection of shrapnel that I've had removed over the years. I also asked her if I could at least take a picture of it. Sure she said.
Can I take pictures of the surgery? They all said no problem and that this was a first for them. Cool I thought. I'll get a lot of good and bloody pictures to post here.
The doctor cleaned off my leg with betadine then covered it with these blue drapes.
Right after I took that shot my camera battery went dead. FUCK ME!!! I knew I should have charged it! I tried taking more shots, but no use, the battery was dead.
We all chatted during the surgery. I told more of the story about getting wounded, the 35 wounds I received from head to toe and the 500-600 stitches it took to close them up. Made me feel good that they took an interest.
The nurse told me about a friend of his that served in Vietnam at a base in Danang. His base was over run by the VC four times while he was there. The experience really affected him and it was just recently that he could fly on a plane again. So his friended was coming to visit him. They will be going to Washington DC to see Arlington Cemetery, the Marine Memorial and the Wall.
Someone mentioned yesterday that since I asked for boobie pictures to help me feel better after my surgery, that maybe the nurse would show me hers. LOL Since the nurse was a man, that wouldn't help. But since the doctor was a woman....... :-)
No, she didn't show me her boobs, but I did get a few peeks down her scrub top when she bent over to work. Then I got a peek of her pantie top when she reached up to point at something she needed from the supply cabinet. FYI, her bra and panties matched. They were a pretty shade of brown. :-P
Yes, I know I'm a horn dog and a bad boy, but I can't help myself. It's just a burden I've learned to live with. :-)
Every once in a while I'd pick my head up and take a look at what was going on. A few shiny tools around the bloody incision in my leg.
The doctor found the shrapnel and took it out. It looked like a red round ball about 3/8 inch around (about the size of the end of your pinky finger). She she that it was covered in fibrous tissue. That the body does that to isolate it so it can't contaminate you. The body is smart like that.
She flushed the incision with saline and then asked me to take a look. A nice slice about an inch or so long in the side of my calf and a nice shade of red inside. Next it was time to sew me up. She did a few stitches all the while explaining to the intern what she was doing and why. Very interesting. Then she told him to try it. I don't think this guy had ever done that before. He looked so nervous and didn't even know what tools to use. Wasn't he paying close enough attention to what the doctor was doing? He finished his stitch and then the nurse covered it with a bandage.
I got dressed and was about to leave when the nurse stopped me, shook my hand and thanked me for serving in Vietnam. I thanked him and walked away with just a bit more bounce in my step. It always brings a smile to my face when someone says that.
Here's a picture I took of it this morning of the bandaged area after my camera battery was charged.
Did you notice the blood through the bandage? I was bleeding ya know. And I did get stitches. So how about some more sympathy boobie pictures to help take my mind off of the pain and agony?
Two beautiful women were kind enough to send me pictures, Tara and Bunny. I loved them girls! Rob didn't send me a picture of his boobs (thanks Rob!), but he did give a link to a hot video. Thank you all so much. I feel better already. :-)
Keep the boobies coming please! I don't feel all that much better. :-(