

I look over at the what appears to be a fancy bottom machine she's looking at and ask, "48... is that my resting heart rate?"
"Yep, that's your resting heart rate," she replies.
I figure that's not too bad... for a smoker.

We wait some more. Right about the time my IV empties I ask to go to the bathroom. The IV is empty so I also ask if I can go home.
"I can't let you go until you go to the bathroom. If you don't go I will have to start another IV."
Well by Gawd I'm on a MISSION now. I will be going to the bathroom.

Wooo-Hooo, I'm a free man.

I get in the car, wife driving, kids in the back. I suck down a Camel Non-Filter. I just about guzzle a 20 oz. Coke. I smoke another Camel Non-Filter. I drink another Coke. I smoke another Camel. The wife is worried. My son is completely unconcerned. "If he hasn't had a problem by now, he's not going to."

I begin to feel great, except for being sore. We get home and I get something to eat and I feel better than great.

Now that it's all over except for the healing, I have no problem with going back to TMH if I ever need another procedure done. Excellent care.


And I still feel like I got kicked in the gut by a mule.

So just how does one go about making all this necessary?
You sneeze.

You sneeze one time. You sneeze one time hard enough to blow your guts out.
Then of course you put the operation off for 2 months because you have two upcoming tournaments you don't want to miss.
And it crosses your mind to delay things until after scallop season, but decide that might be pushing it.
And you don't do jack-diddly-squat in either T, so you might as well have gone on and done the operation.
