Bit of a wait. But interesting discovery. My physiological stats are quite excellent. Blood pressure: 125 over 72. Resting heart rate: 56. Nurse commented: You have the stats of an athlete. Told her: Wish I could perform like one.
Eventually, made it back to the operating room.Cold and comfortable. Nurse takes a razor to my belly. And back. Shaving off two thirds of my body hair in order to operate on a patch of skin the size of a quarter. Doc "numbs" my abdomen first. Trying not to breath. Trying not to pull away as the needle bites. One. Two. Three times. Then I hear the tone of the cautery. Knowing he's slicing me open. Not feeling, but still knowing. Something warm slides trickles. A daub of cotton from the nurse. And he says, "It's out." Thankfully I don't feel the stitches.
Then over to the mutation on my freshly-shaved back. (Didn't even know I had hair there!) One. Two. Three "Big Sticks" from the needle. The third biting deep. Heat spreading briefly before I'm numbed again. Familiar tone. He's cutting. I imagine a whiff of charred flesh wafts past me. The tone changes, even higher pitched. For the briefest microsecond, I light up with pain. Like a towel snapping my ass in the locker room. Gone before my voice can find a scream. Not sure what happened there, but it (thankfully) only happened once. Then the stitching. Many more, this time. "I put some extra in there," he says. So I can train sooner. No stitches on the outside. Medical Super Glue. It will "flake off" in a week, Nurse says. Lower the table. Unfasten the grounding strap. And I'm done.
No sedation means no delay. I change into my street clothes. Sign a document that proves I survived. And off to work I go.
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