Well, I’m still alive to tell another tale.
July began with a summons to the office of Dr. Robert Engles at the Baptist South Hospital and Body Repair Shop.
Baptist South is now a Level One trauma center, a good thing for the River Region because that is the best a hospital can be, and it gives everyone a fighting chance in worst-case scenarios. Congrats!
I’ve had an aortic aneurysm for years. I’ve been going for annual scans to make sure it wasn’t getting larger. My Growth Chart Luck ran out this year, so I was dispatched to Montgomery Vascular Surgery.
I am an odd human being. I never get the Flu of the Year or maladies that spike my body temperature. I never got COVID, likely (not proud of this) because I’m a pack-a-day smoker. Nationally renowned physician Dr. Robert McCullough recently admitted this truth. Smokers had the highest group immunity to the virus, something a study in France revealed during the plandemic year of 2020. More on Anthony Fauci in a later column, hopefully the one celebrating his prison sentence.
Smoking was my first thought when told about my Aortic Aneurysm Repair Procedure (AARP). Dr. Engles said thanks to my overall good health, I qualified for the least invasive solution. As he explained it all, my mind wandered away and focused on the worst aspect of the chaos.
No smoking in the hospital!
I know it sounds stupid, dumb, immature, and ridiculous, but that’s the part I dreaded. 5-inch incisions in my groin? Check. General anesthesia and weeks of discomfort? A-OK. No smoking for 24 hours? AAAAGH.
The thought of being trapped for a day with no access to my coping sticks required some HCP (Hospital Contraband Planning).
There were 2 options. I was gifted nicotine-infused flavored toothpicks, which I use in my radio studio. They’re helpful. The second was a cigarette-shaped vape, which is the closest to the real thing. Getting one of those into my room in the aftermath would be a huge relief.
I had a willing unindicted co-conspirator for the HCP. My UCC will remain anonymous.
The surgery itself fit well into my life plan. Rather than waste time on Things With Fevers (for $100, Alex!) I simply end up under the knife about every 8 years. Back surgery, meniscus repair, oral, and now this, scheduled for July 16.
It seemed so far away! Let me tell you something about time, friends. Those 16 days went by at warp speed. The night before was my weekly NewsTalk 93.1FM listener gathering at Baumhower’s Victory Grille. Being a total weisenheimer, I promoted it as “The Last Supper”, you know, just in case. Honestly, I never thought about that possibility because I’m tough and Dr. Engles is one of the very best vascular surgeons anywhere. And we did have a very healthy turnout for the gathering!
On surgery day, I was puffing furiously at Baptist South’s beautiful fountain at 5 AM when my UCC (Unindicted Coconspirator) waved me in. “They’re ready!”
I was honored to be draped in Baptist hospital gown #1, a dignity-free burial cloth that was so old it was no doubt used by Patient One on opening day way back. Once on the gurney, my UCC snapped a photo of me chomping on the nicotine toothpick. The anesthesiologist came into the prep area and said, “Hello, I’m Doctor …” and that’s all I remember.
It was late in the day when I awoke in my room in the ICU with my UCC in attendance. I tried to lift my arms but was thwarted by a bevy of wires and bandages so great in number I felt like I was installed into the hospital itself. My UCC said the surgery was a total success- the aneurysm that might have killed me (that IS what took down Sen. Lindsey Graham) was gone- and I was on the way to a longer-than-I-expected road to recovery.
Then, the vape stick fell onto my chest where it nestled among the wires. The coast was clear, so I took a quick hit and exhaled the steam down my gown. As ridiculous as that sounds, it took the edge off the pain and powerlessness of my circumstances.
All I really had to do was survive the night. I tucked the vape into the pocket of hospital gown #1 only to discover time and tide had ripped it open, so it was useless. My wonderful UCC went home after her long day.
Hospital sleep without anesthesia is impossible. The most excellent nursing staff was in constantly, monitoring everything so I could be discharged in the morning. My room had a TV, which, in the post-op fog, was tough to navigate, but around 8 PM- a miracle. I stumbled across TCM, just as they were launching a marathon of 50s Sci-Fi movies including an all-time favorite, “THEM!”. Those goofy old films got me through the night with occasional hits off the vape- before I fumbled it into the oblivion of my hospital nest.
At 8 AM, as I counted the minutes to release, Michelle, my nurse, came in for one last look at “FRANKENGROIN”. Approving, she began disconnecting plugs, monitors, IVs, and roughly a half-mile of medical tape. Dr. Engles soon followed, liked what he saw, and said he’d see me in two weeks. Tears of pain and relief burned my eyes as I gingerly climbed into my OCC’s passenger seat and breathed fresh air. Odd for a smoker to say that, ain’t it?
In the 10 days hence, it’s been like walking (in the heat) wearing a pair of cellophane underpants, 2 sizes too small. Everything pulls. But I’ll be OK.
And it beats the alternative!
PS- Baptist South was recently voted “Best Place to Work”. Congrats!
Greg Budell has lived in Montgomery for 20 years. A 50+ year veteran of radio, TV and writing, Greg hosts the Newstalk 93.1FM Morning Show with Rich Thomas and Jay Scott, 6-9 AM Monday – Friday. He returns weekday afternoons from 3-6 PM for Happy Hour with Pamela Dubuque and a variety of sidekicks.
His favorite topic is life! Greg can be reached at gregbudell@aol.com.