Milking as much as they can out of me.

Disclaimer: This post is being written while on Darveset after a long day.

Maybe it is because I am in a customer service business but it will never cease to amaze me how poor most people and instutions are at managing expectations.

Much to my dismay, I did not recieve any pain killess prior to going for the lymphangiogram. No verset, no phentenol, not even damn leather strap to bite down on. "Oh, the dye is cut with 50% lanacaine, a topical analgesic that will numb you as it goes it" says the NURSE who did the injections. F-ing great. Not only is it not Dr. Griesen who is doing the injecting, but it is a nurse who isn't much for negotiating. "Don't worry" she says, " most people say they feel a little pinch and then its over." At this point I am already down in radiology on a gurney watching this woman unwrap the syringes. It is an open area with stations partitioned only by curtains.

Moments earlier this boy of about 10 came in with his parents. They moved into the station directly across from me. And I thought, "Damn it!" I can't make a run for it if the kid is sitting still. Granted, he wasn't being stuck with needles, but he seemed happy as clam (never understood this analogy but will use it nonetheless).

So I re-engaged the joyless nurse. "How many injections do you need to do? One, two?" "Actually, no. We need to do an injection between each one of your toes, so I guess that makes it 8." "What?!!" "Don't worry. It'll be quick and it won't be that bad." "Tell me nurse...when was the last time you were on the recieving end of this treatment?" "Well, I haven't but this is what people tell me."

Just for the record: There is no way in Hell that anyone who undergoes this feels "just a little pinch". You want to know what it feels like? It feels like getting a needle shoved inbetween each one of your toes. That's how it F-ing feels!

But wait there's more! What I also wasn't told was that after the injection the Dr. then needs to make an incision in one of the vessels in my foot and inject more dye. Oh, Happy Days!!!

The good news is that for the next 2 months my will be the same shade of green as the 18th hole at Augusta. Also, if I shed any tears or sweat, they will both have a blue tint to them. This is like X-Men One when the senator get's turned into that gellatinous mutant. (If you saw the movie you'll get it.)

So my feet are still swollen and I'm going to head to bed soon, but I am yet to share any news of consequence, so here goes. If you've been skimming, now is the time to read. The dye DID reveal a small leak in the thymus, but it was not well situated to undergo the second part of the procedure (through the liver). So what is plan B?

I'm so glad you asked. Tomorrow morning at 7:00 I will be wisked away once again to the nether regions of the hospital. Dr. Gillinov is going to open me up again through the same incision he created for the mitral valve repair. He is then going to try to suture the offending gland. That's right ladies, and gents, another surgery. It should last about an hour an I have been told the recovery will be nowhere near as rough as the original heart surgery, but at this point, who the hell knows.

The only funny part of this whole thing is that this evening I was told that I had to change my diet. This time they want me to eat as greasy food as possible. By doing this, when they go in tomorrow, they should see more than a drip from the thalamus. So, I ordered: tortollini with alfredo sauce, a sirloin steak, fresh cut fries, and half a glass of olive oil to be sopped up with bread. Somehow they didn't think this was enough so they started bringing me a juice glass full of whipping cream every two hours that I had to finish. Ever bet someone that they can't drink 1 gallon of whole milk in an hour without puking? If not, you can make some good money while betting the bravado. It can't be done, but by midnight this evening I think I will have ingested 1 liter of whipping cream.

I will be in the ICU again tomorrow night so look for some sort of update from Allison, who by the way, is a rock. Honey, I love you with all my triglicerides.

~Joe

12 days post-op