About a month ago I had an episode. Not a regular season episode. One of those sweeps week's episodes. You know that special episode that is meant to garner bigger ratings. The one where the Big Bang's Sheldon has a dream that he meets Albert Einstein played by Dustin Hoffman. Mike and Molly guest on Biggest Losers. Steve Buscemi gets a make over. Those once a year episodes.
I had minor surgery on January 25th. Holy misnomer! There is no such thing as "minor surgery". Once the guy that used to sit next to you and cheat off your exam in biology class starts cutting - anything could happen.
There are certain words that should never be paired together. Like; subtle Michael Bolton. Tame cheetah. Coherent Sean Hannity. Minor surgery falls into that same category.
Anyway, the surgery went fine. Some repairs that needed to be taken care of. The staff at Cedars Sinai were up to their old tricks. Charging $95 for a Snickers bar. Asking you every five minutes for your Mother's maiden name. Plus, seeing if they could enlist your help in getting their Aunt out of the Philippines. Other than the bill for visitor parking, the stay at the hospital was uneventful.
Came home and everything was fine. I was able to mix pain meds with wine. Had an excuse to wear sweat pants every day. Watched Rick Steves in Belgium and still couldn't believe that he actually had a wife. Everything was fine.
Then it happened. The opening credits of the episode. It was the day after the Super Bowl and I was still wondering why Harbaugh didn't run the ball when he was at the three yard line when I noticed something that didn't seem quite right. Something red in color. Something red in color that should have stayed in my body. I was suffering blood loss.
It was about 8:00 at night and I felt like me except for the red donation I was making. I called my surgeon and he said if it got worse to go to the emergency room. Didn't want to do that. Couldn't miss this week's 'The Following'. I'll be ok."
Two hours later not so "ok". I passed out in the bathroom and hit my head. The wife saw me on the floor. She said that I was making about as much sense as a NRA official trying to justify magazine capacity on an assault rifle. She called the paramedics.
They were there almost immediately. My cat went up to them and said, "do something!" My first thought upon seeing the paramedics was that if I was still a casting director at least one of the paramedics would have been a latino or asian.
They asked me if I could get up and I said that I had low "t". They picked me up and put me on a gurney and rolled me outside. I was sure that a couple of the annoying neighbors that I had, were applauding. Wasn't positive, but was pretty sure.
In to the ambulance I went. Stuff started to be hooked up to me. At first I had the thoughts of "not now", "too soon", "I want to live" Then I glanced up at the inside of the roof of the ambulance and noticed a couple of the bulbs were flickering. On the one hand I wanted to say more oxygen and on the other hand I wanted to say can't you do something about that annoying "flickering".
We took off for the short ride to the emergency room. The oxygen was not giving me a high but I was becoming more stable. A lot of thoughts filled my brain. Not - I should have climbed Mount Everest. Or - If I hadn't have been so goofy maybe Madeline Stowe would have liked me more. My first thought was wondering whether my insurance was going to cover my ambulance ride and these four non-latino paramedics. I even thought that I didn't really need this to happen for me to know how much I love my wife. I already knew how much I loved my wife. I did think that I was letting my Grandmother down because I was not wearing the cleanest of underwear. She always said...
We arrive at the hospital and I am wheeled in. No one came running to the gurney yelling "stat". I found that comforting. No paddles were going to be used. Although there was this cute nurse where paddles could have come in handy.
My gurney came to a stop. The first words out of my mouth were, "Well, I guess now I have met my deductible." One of the oder nurses laughed as she played pin the tail on the IV with my left arm.
My surgeon showed up. This was great I thought. Then I pondered, "It was 10:30 at night. How many glasses of wine had he had?" Then I remembered that a drunken Denzel had landed a plane. My doc should be able to help me.
Everything calmed down. I was going to be around for a while. The wife came in and sweetly said, "You scared the hell out of me. Don't do that again. I could never find anyone like you. Someone that continually cuts me off and never lets me finish a sentence."
Two of my friends showed up. One came in and I told him that he was the Scarecrow and there were all these little people named munchkins. The surgeon then thought it best that I get some rest. I said that I hadn't gotten to the part about the ruby slippers.
I didn't sleep much that night but was well enough to be released that next mid morning. I wouldn't welcome the episode that I had just had on anybody. Maybe Ted Nugent. Nah, not even Ted. I wish that I could say that I had had a great epiphany. Something life changing. "You know, from now on..."
What I discovered is that I didn't need any of that kind of faux boost. My life was pretty damn good. I have the best wife in the world, a cat that sticks to me like Velcro, a Prius that is almost paid for, and wine and pain meds within arm's reach. Priceless.
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