So…I had my procedure.
From what I can gather, from my limited range of experience to draw a conclusion upon, everything went well.
As far as I can tell…everything went well.
It was a little worse than having my teeth cleaned…and, apparently, I only have to do it once…so that’s a good thing.
That’s a good thing.
You know, though…if you listen to enough people who know enough people who had a cousin who knew somebody who was laid up for weeks after the “procedure”….you’d be scared out of your mind.
If you listened to everybody…and then tried to condense all that information into one chunk that you could carry around with you before the “deed was done”…you would be terrified.
Maybe terrified is too strong a word.
I am not terrified of much.
Maybe “pointedly concerned” is a better way of describing the situation.
Maybe it was “focused angst”.
“Terror” is too strong a word.
Actually, it was a lot worse than having my teeth cleaned.
When it was done, they gave me a prescription for Vicodin.
I don’t know what that does for me.
Jenny didn’t think that I should take any after I told her that I wasn’t in a lot of pain or anything.
So now I probably will never be able to know what taking a Vicodin does.
I should have kept my mouth shut…moaned and groaned more or something.
I think that Jenny thought that I’d be one of the people who got hooked on prescription pain killers.
Maybe I’d stop thinking about buying that piece of land and spend all our money keeping myself supplied with Vicodin?
Anyway, the procedure went well.
For something so personal and invasive, it was surprisingly gentle.
Maybe that’s just the drugs talking?
They did give me something to put under my tongue that the doctor described as being like drinking two beers.
I wish they had just kept me supplied with Guinness.
That would have been a lot more fun.
They would have had to tell me to stay still, though.
The male doctor and the female resident did the deed.
I felt like I was in good hands.
I guess that what I’m saying is, for anyone who worried about me, that I’m OK.
But, really, enough about me.
Now what the heck am I going to write about?
I could write about the resurgence in the interest in vinyl LPs?!
That’s always good for a blogs worth of words…..
Or I could write about one of the vehicles breaking down….but nothing’s broken….
Or, because I’m sitting here and it’s still on my mind, I could write about the “procedure”.
Man….life is a real mystery, isn’t it?
You click along….and then one day….BAMMMMMMMMMM (sorry….didn’t mean to surprise you)….and then “bammmmmmm”….the end of the line.
If you aren’t competent with the “slowing down” part, you better take matters into your own hands and nip it.
That must have been what Barney Fife was talking about….Nip it! Nip it in the bud!!
(Don’t google anything looking for an image to use in the blog about the “procedure” ….there were things that I didn’t want to know in all those pictures…..MY EYES!!! MY EYES!!!!)