This is minor surgery except for the fact they’re tapping into an artery. Eeek.
I know I shouldn’t worry. They’ve done it a few times. I ain’t dead yet.
I can’t bleed out, to death.
I’d be a pale corpse.
Ok. I’m a pale live person. But you understand.
I live to be a nice looking corpse. (). I insist.
Tonight tho’ I’m in some minor pain from this minor surgery, by what looked like a minor surgeon (I hope he was a surgeon, I’m not sure how he’s had time for college, med school and a surgical residency, plus skateboard camp, inside his 14 years). Eh, a minor annoyance.
Ivy doped me up with my pain meds.
Nope.
Didn’t work. Just gave me another minor annoyance. A headache. (And they make me kinda crazy)
I’m usually not too concerned about these things, I’m an old hat at having invasive procedures. Even though I drone on and on about it here, I usually do pretty good. (Ivy says a bit different because I complain to her. Hey! I write her check she needs something to do.
Add pain tho’, and my good sense goes out the window.
After reading numerous odes to corndogs via your posts, I developed my own fixation to the nasty things. I think there’s one lurking in the back of the refrigerator. I can make that part of a wholesome breakfast.
BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Boy, that’s a real knee-slapper!
(Seriously, if a port or shunt or some other hole going from outside to inside hurts, watch for redness and fever. If you notice these things, get thee to medical help ASAP. And you already know this…)
I’m glad to hear you are better today and am almost totally envious of your taco menu. Maybe I’d better get back to prepping my basil for pesto so I can eat something nummy too.