My new shoulder.

I had mentioned to a few people how nervous I was about going under before my surgery, and I knew my fears were unfounded then, but I'm really surprised by just how unfounded they really were. I also used to scream and cry and just generally flip the fuck out when confronted with needles even though I knew the end result wasn't all that bad, but what can I say? I'm an irrational dude.

Anyway, I got to the hospital last Tuesday, threw on my gown and these sick ass socks that I was really hyped to take home later, and got attached to the IV. Even though I've long outgrown my fear of needles, something about taking one in the hand still weirds me out, and it was uncomfortable. The nurse told me that would be the worst part of my ordeal, and I had every reason to believe her at the time, but it turns out she was a lying cunt.

The next step was to inject me with a "block" -- I guess that's the technical term because it's the only one I heard -- that would block the pain from anywhere between 24 and 36 hours. This is where things got painful and weird. They wheeled me into a small room that more closely resembled a closet and then wheeled in a ultrasound machine, which the tech very helpfully described to me as "the machine we use to see babies in mommies tummies." That is verbatim, by the way; he -- a grown-ass man -- said that to me -- a fellow grown-ass man. Does he think I'm an idiot? I know babies are delivered to your doorstep by storks.

They lubed up the ultrasound machine and rolled it around the left side of my neck, in search of some apparently elusive cluster of nerves. Once they found the nerves they were looking for, they plunged another needle into my neck and poked around inside of me until they could get the needletip into the cluster. They warned me that the injections would "zing" a little (what does that even mean?), but it felt much more like an electrical shock. I guess "zing" sounds less painful, but it was extremely unpleasant. To complicate matters, they're also feeding me whatever it was they were using to put me to sleep, so I'm becoming loopy and losing conciousness while they're still injecting me with the block. They didn't warn me they were going to put me under just yet, so I thought of bringing this to their attention, but I was out before I could even open my mouth.

The next thing I remember is waking up with about ten pounds worth of dressing and proection on my left shoulder. A couple of nurses explained to me what was done, what I needed to do, and sent me on my way about a half an hour later. The blocker wore off in the middle of the first night, not even coming close to the doctor's estimate. Three Percocets took care of that.

I spent the next three days napping, eating, and trying to figure out how the fuck my Cryocuff works. I knew it involved a Thermos looking thing attached to a hose attached to the Cryocuff, and that it made me look like a gay Robocop, but that was about it. I learned a lot those three days, such as the sheer number of judge shows on daytime television. There had to be at least half a dozen of them. I also learned the nation is obsessed with Octomom, and will have hour long group conversations on television about her.

And so I'm in a sling for four more awkward weeks. After that it's a couple of months of rehab. Everything's going to take much longer than I had hoped, but at least this is the best shot at returning to 100% as I've got.