I Feel Pretty

If you're going to have brain surgery, you might as well do it first thing in the morning so you can get on with your day, right? More importantly, you want the doctors and nurses to be fresh and ready to go. Yes, they're professionals, but I don't want to be the third skull they're cracking open after a long day.

We got to the hospital early and they started to prep me. First I had to strip down to my boxers and put on the flattering gown. Next were compression hose. For those new to compression hose, they're white thigh-high tights that help prevent blood clots from forming in your legs when you aren't moving around and traveling through your system. As you can imagine, they're quite flattering.

Next was a quick shave of a section of my head (why not do the whole thing??) and, best of all, the halo. A halo is the poetic term for the medieval steel cage that goes around your head that is designed to keep you from moving during surgery. I get it -- one twitch from you and you wind up marching in place whenever someone turns on a microwave for the rest of your life. What doesn't make it into the TV shows is that they screw the damn thing into your skull. Read that last sentence again. There's not much they can do to anesthetize the area, either. So there's that.

Once I was all handsome and looking like an extra from a Marilyn Manson video, I met the doctor, the anasthesiologist (sp?) and Jackie, the absolutely awesome nurse who'd be wheeling me around for most of the morning. The anaethetist had a student with him. Did I mind if he observed the surgery? Why the hell not! Given the fact that I was in a baby blue dress wearing white tights and a metal cage on my head, I'd already lost any and all dignity. Bring the whole class!

They gave me the first of many shots, I said my goodbyes to my wife and family and I was wheeled down the hall.