Bigjohn is right on overdoing it. Nowhere near a knee replacement, but here's my real moment of genius: Teaching pistol at an outdoor range (academy class). Side is hurting. So what, stuff hurts sometimes. End of the day, a cadet actually caught me favoring that side when walking and asked me if I was okay. "Pshaw!", I said. Hurt all evening. Got up the next morning, side hurting and vibrating like an old Motorola pager. I'm dressed and ready to leave for the range, in the pre-dawn with an espresso in one hand and Google in the other. Al Gore said my symptoms pointed to appendicitis (I told you this wasn't anything serious like knee replacement). I wasn't about to let potential appendicitis ruin my day- then, out of pure vanity, I realized how much hoopla it would cause if my appendix burst while I was at a fairly rural outdoor range, in front of a class. My peers would probably flip out and call for aeromed (which we always have dialed in for any range class). So, I left and instead of turning right and heading south to the range, I turned north for a quick preemptive checkout at the ER. Merely a precautionary measure. They examined me, and like a vampire awoken, when the nurse probed my abdomen, I seized her wrist in a vice-like grip and intimated that she might actually be a witch. After she got over being manhandled, she said- you just might have appendicitis. Drank the radioactive juice. Got scanned. Verdict- should have popped, might pop any minute, already leaking infectious goodness. Set your pack down- you're being prepped for surgery.
And then I called my wife and told her I wasn't at the range. And that I was at the hospital. And that I had a pain in my side. And stuff.
Soooo, (for those of you who are still awake, and aren't bogarting bionic-harpers narcotics), I got my appendix removed. Should be a non-issue, right? People get it done all the time. But most people aren't the shiny brand of stupid I am. I wake up, roughly 3 hours after surgery, still in a gown, IV bag hanging. Awake enough to be restless. Narcomotized enough to invite whimsy. I read my board, with vitals and what I can and cannot do. I read "activity as tolerated". I remember I am iron man. This is my first hospitalization since I was born. This whole incident is an assault upon my manhood. "Activity as tolerated" indeed. I decide that heel and toe lifts, in sets of ten, while clutching my IV rack for support, are clearly indicated. I will be the fastest fully recovered appendectomy patient in history. Autographs will be given.
In hindsight, this was not a great idea. While the procedure I underwent may be less intrusive than it was long ago, it turns out that the things they do to plug holes and seal leaks now aren't necessarily the most robust things... They aren't rated for activities that aren't kid-tested and mother-approved. Ask me how I know...
Next day, not so many narcotics, because I refused them (remember, I'm iron man). I'm in pain. But it's the day after surgery, so of course I'm in pain. Kind of foggy. I decide (no narcotics to blame this on) that it's a good idea to put on the 5.11's I arrived in, pull on my 5lb. each desert acadias (damn that hurt), and go in search of Red Bull. I put on sunglasses and a ballcap, because I was obviously incognito. I left the ward walking like an old man. By the time I got to the far end of the hospital 3 floors down, I was walking like Ozzy Osbourne on a bad day. Red Bull in the cafeteria? Nope. It's a hospital cafeteria. I barely made it back to the ward I was hurting so bad. When I got there, the charge nurse and my nurse are standing with their arms crossed. "We were looking for you." I didn't say anything, just shuffled my zombie *** back to the room.
I had one week to be good to go for a long trip and executive protection op. I did enough damage in the first 24 hours to make this barely doable.
And you'll never get the time you spent reading this back. Best wishes harper- hang in there.
