Continued from previous post.
Well, here's what the doctors determined. The bruising on my butt cheek was already fading, leaving the wound, which I now was made to realize was more serious than I had even imagined. The initial impact with the latch, even though it was a nicely curved loop of metal with no sharp edges, had carved out, or more accurately, torn a chunk of my ass cheek out. It turns out that's not just a phrase. Not an ice cream scoop worth, think more like a melon ball. A chunk out of my ass that is apparently not going to grow back. I know you clenched your butt cheeks together a little bit reading that. I know I did, and this is now months later. But hold on, we're not quite done yet. It gets better.
I was told I was fortunate that the initial impact had not been a little closer to ground zero (I won't be any more specific than this). I didn't yet feel fortunate, but as the situation was explained to me that began to change. If you still don't understand my euphemisms you should count your blessings and move on with your life a happier, better person than me.
As I was saying, the chunk out of my ass was only near GZ. The problem was, that in tearing out the chunk of meat, the covering skin came with it. While the scoop of meat roughly mirrored the latch, the now much larger patch of skin did not stop ripping until it got to, let's say... an edge. There's another clench, and not just the butt cheeks. So yes, while I was lucky that the point of impact was not in an even worse location, the damage continued on to said worse location. I apologize for any effect this description is causing you, but the sensation I'm experiencing while writing this months later is not so good, either.
So I had a wound, which was not good but entirely manageable, but I also had some level of damage to a major piece of plumbing. They cleanly snipped off the last little bits that were keeping my dying melon ball in place and removed it. Not fun but not the end of the world.
The problem was the much larger area of missing skin. No one had really seen something exactly like this. This is another thing you don't want to hear in a hospital, although not quite at the the "we're going to name this after you" level. I really don't want this named after me.
Well anyway, the doctors certainly had not seen this affliction in this particular location. There was considerable uncertainty on just how much damage I had done to the plumbing functionality. Adding to the uncertainty, I had not used said plumbing since the fall (not the season). I think my body had just closed up that particular shop to wait for better days, and I had had little to eat since. I was not looking forward to the grand reopening, although clearly that had to happen all too soon.
After a visual assessment came the physical inspection. Yup, it's just what you think. I haven't had that many fingers up my ass since college. I had to go for the joke, but seriously, I have never had that many fingers up my ass, and certainly not all within an 18 hour period. Perhaps you missed the part where this is a teaching hospital. But the people doing it, bless their hearts, were all business. Including the interns, who were just there for practice. I'm proud to serve. I'm glad there are people out there for whom this is their life's work. I don't know how someone gets there, but I'm grateful they did it.
In the morning we met the head doctor for the colorectal unit, a tiny Scottish woman with a big presence. We took it as a good (well, better) sign that after seeing the picture in the middle of the night she didn't rush right into to take a look herself. I reverted to short, compete answers as I slowly realized what she was really asking me was, had I somehow done this to myself. Ewww, but I guess the question had to be asked.
Well, that was my very first night in a hospital (for me, not there for someone else).
No comments:
Post a Comment