an·es the·ti·za tion

gotta move down bro. You have a tube up yur ass. I will replace tomorrow morn. I hope it hurts real bad and you will tell us stories

NO. SERIOUS!!!!
If you don’t tell us interesting stories, Rabbit, well, well, well… you can just imagine what will happen to you…

…. I mean… for strters, we would make sure you spell right.

@ Gang – From JR. Look at this guy. He’s easily one of the best writers ever. So he’s scared about his first invasive surgery. We all were…. The key point is this. BOOM! Don’t let Bunn know there was anything important. Make it look like it happens 5000 times a day (it does).

What did he have done anyway? I don’t care

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I lost my bearings. I gottem. I hate this place. Tangiers? Where is my Katya? That’s all I want

Gang,

If I don’t wake up tomorrow, I’d like to say (for the record) that it’s been a genuine delight social networking with and getting to know a little bit more about each of you. Many thanks.

So yeah… tomorrow I’m having a minor surgical procedure that is going to require general anesthesia. The doctor has already hooked me up with a bottle of extra-strength vicodin, so I expect the recovery to be relatively uneventful and not too uncomfortable.

I have to wake up tomorrow at something like 4:00 a.m., to arrive in a timely manner, for the ungodly-mercilessly-scheduled first-thing-in-the-a.m. admission appointment. For the love of bunn, I hope that surgeon is a morning person. I never could fully empathisize with that mentality, but never mind/I’m veering off subject…

Do any of you have any tips, recommendations, etc. regarding what I’m about to undergo? About going under? About undertow? About toe tags?

~BB

I didn’t write that. My friend BB did. I just want Katya. If I need to sign something or swear I love BB fine….

Bunn…

Ya Know what?

Word out. Talk to my attorney. Good to go

This entry was posted by Bunn Bunn.

30 thoughts on “an·es the·ti·za tion

  1. Bunn-

    I’ve been fully-anesthetized only twice in my life, and, once you’re under it’s cake! ; ))

    A naturally-relaxed EE is an oxymoron of the first order in addition to a hatred of hospitals and/or clinics, so surgery was a challenge. In preparation for “going under,” I spent a lot of time calming myself with and focusing on deep breathing, meditating, and all the relaxation tools I’ve learned over the years.

    Go with the flow, Bunn!

  2. i’ve been preternaturally healthy; so i have nothing of value to offer. but yeah, that whole early morning jump out of bed ready to go thing is pretty fucked up. i say sleep till noon and show up when you’re damn good and ready. who’s fucking paying who? that’s my only real question.

  3. EE, funny you should say “go with the flow”. A few days ago, it finally dawned on me that the often-heard assertion that the people of this country are on average “right of center” is pure bullshit.

    It is clear that the majority — as indicated by the April 1st, 2010 barometer still, so far, anyway — very much want safety nets of the socialist sort erected under just about every aspect of their lives.

    I’m not really as twisted around the axle as you might think I am about all of this nationalization of various industries stuff. [Addendum: That’s a lie. But I need to redirect my energy to more immediate matters… so I’m changing my focus.]

    Obviously I can’t control what other people want or think they want. And I don’t really even care about being right or prophetic or any such rubbish. I guess my real gripe is that more and more burdens are being imposed upon those who would live their lives differently, innovate, pursue entrepreneurial ambitions… that sort of thing. If the majority want to have most of their decisions made for them, I’m cool with that. I would be insane, probably, to expect them to think otherwise or, for that matter, to even think in a semi-serious way about themselves and what they might be capable of.

  4. preternaturally healthy… me too, mostly.

    Having zero experience in matters pertaining to “going under”, I don’t even know enough to be scared.

    Is it the industry standard protocol to tip the anesthesiologist before you go under?$? Just askin’.

  5. Just don’t let ’em use that shit they gave to poor MJ. I’d be moron worried about the aftermath of what they’re trying to fix, bunn. You never gave us a clue about what it’s supposed to be in need of fixin’.

    Our new neighbor is an anesthesiologist. He’s a goofy guy, but real smart, well schooled, physically fit and hard working. Those guys make the really big bucks, even by medical world standards. So don’t worry about him/her, worry about the damn surgeons, they’re the ones with the sharp knives.

    Good luck. I have extra Vics if you need some. My drugs are your drugs.

  6. Ah Doom, perhaps you were a pharmacist in another life, or even better still an ice cream man who randomly lucked into a new route directly traversing the situs of a week-long Hawaiian Tropic bikini modeling shoot. I’ll throw in, for good measure… on the hottest day of the year.

    Speaking of the goofy and geeky, a friend of mine recently brought this to my attention:

    http://www.thinkgeek.com/stuff/41/monolith-action-figure.shtml?icpg=Carousel_Monolith_2

  7. “Is it the industry standard protocol to tip the anesthesiologist before you go under?$? Just askin’.”

    Keeping in mind my very limited experience in this area, I would be quite complimentary to the anesthesiologist if you sense he or she is up for that–these folks have the ability to jerk you around bigtime.

    My guy in 2003 was delightful. I was in pre-op for a good 45 minutes and he came around several times and was very solicitous. Then, he and an assistant wheeled me through the hall and into this freezing cold room (which didn’t bother me at all but I did note the temp), left, and then I had about 15 seconds to joke with my doctor and kiss her butt before she slit my throat, literally. (I had a diseased parathyroid gland–one of four little pea-sized glands that are embedded in the thyroid–removed.)

    The next thing I remember was waking up several hours later in post-op, at which point they wheeled me to my room for an overnight stay, which is another story. I never had any after effects from the anesthetic.

    Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi
    http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0521438098/ref=sip_pdp_dp_3

  8. Bunn, our Physics and Astronomy Building on campus has a replica of that damn 2001/2010 monolith in front. The building originally cost $10 million back in the day. So, the artist, by state law, got 1% of the building cost ($10,000) to make it. A steel box bolted to the concrete sidewalk and painted flat black. Now, it’s a sun-faded charcoal gray. They even had a motor inside it that hummed all day and night, 365, but they turned it off long ago, as it was an early casualty of energy concerns.

    The lucky selected artist (they have a drawing of sorts) must have laughed all the way to the bank for that one.

  9. Looks like its too late for me to make a pre-op comment, so I hope your state of unconsciousness was pleasant enough, and that you heal quickly. We’ll need you for the playoffs.

  10. Unrelated, but I need to get this off my chest. Last night we’re at this little place in East Village, having a perfectly nice visit, and I hear some guy behind me order a Grey Goose and Diet Coke. What the hell is wrong with people.

  11. ahahhaahaahahaaaaaa!!!!

    Oh, that is classic. I needed that. Trust me, dude, if that is as bad as it’s gonna get, I’ll trade positions with you right now.

    As my ex(it was a long time ago)-girlfriend/surgeon (how the fuck do you spell that?) told me when I asked this exact same question regarding my father 10 years ago -“JR, there is always a 5% chance you will die on the operating table, no matter what.” She was Harvard Med, so I actually listened to her. It wasn’t really illuminating. But nothing that women from Harvard say ever is, so who the fuck cares.

    This is why I only listen to prostitutes from Moldova.

    Vicodin? That shit is lame. Shows you how much your doctor cares about you. Tell him it still hurts and say you heard percocet was better. If that doesn’t work scream in pain and demand Dilaudid. Tellem Johnny sent you.

    You fucking guys

  12. Nevermind all that. The thing you need to focus on, My Dear Bunn, is the fact that you are a rabbit.

    I have just been reading about the rabbits in Australia – the whole history.

    Dude – don’t go there. It’s not pretty. It’s pretty cruel. But we’ll let Yarra jump in.

    ~ref McNeill’s Peoples and Plagues (1979)

  13. Dude – awesome. That’s cuz you’re a guy. Cunts never give.

    According to Rolling Stone magazine, both “Electric Ladyland” and “Exile” are being re-released this summer with bonus/extra tracks.

    I didn’t shoot in my pants, but I have to admit I got semi-excited

    So I talked to my numba wun sista. I ask her – you steal me “Exile on Main Street”?

    She say “no” ” musta been numba two sista”

    I say “I had two copies”

    She say “I’ll get you the new one for your birthday.”

    Cool. Now how do I get Electric Ladyland?

    Numba Tree Sista bad news. No chance.

    Maybe go afta bruvah?

  14. I’ve been 100% anawhatever sveral times.

    Maybe 30 or 40. Not more than that.
    It’s called a full-on blackout.

    When you wake up, it’s like – “wha?… wha… there is no way… wait…what did I do… who can I ask… Oh Jesus.. are you…

    It’s awesome. You feel alive.

    I have one advantage with my blackouts. I was in control. Oh. You can bet on that.

    You. You are tied down for your own safety. Those fuckers are gonna be sticking things in you the entire time. Especially the women. They wanna see if your dick gets hard when they stick their tongues up your ass while your unconcious. It’s like the Olympics for them.

    Yeah, anawhaddaya call it is basically trusting your hospital staff. You have no choice. Just smile at the girls after. It don’t matter. Just pretend you are in pain so they send you home with the best shit.

    This is your one chance in life to live like Michael Jackson. Don’t blow it. I’m counting on you, Bunn

  15. “My drugs are your drugs.”

    WTF! Doom!

    “My drugs are your drugs.”

    Doom. You cannot be serious! Dude. You are one of my closest readers. I realize I have not been around lately and all that shit. But Please.

    I actually want those Vicodins. I would give anything but Katya for them. Which is kinda stupid. Because she would give herself for a frog.

    Can we just chill.

    Even on the marijuana front.

    ZK is not about drugs. It’s about words.

    Bunn’s explanation of his ordeal yesterday is worth a kilo of cocaine.

    Are you fucking kidding me?

  16. I might be enjoying these hydrocodone’s (substituted for Vicodin ES) a whole lot more if it wasn’t for the pain.

    But I’m half a step ahead of the game as I have also procured a half bottle of percocets from someone who has made a life out of such pursuits, to what end I have no idea… a story not for another time. If need be, on Monday I’ll put on my pain face and demand better drugs.

    It was a pre-emptive strike: bilateral inguinal hernias repair, a congenital Achilles’ heal of sorts, which I thought best to deal with now, rather than later. This surgical injury was essentially self-inflicted. I could have walked around the rest of my life, avoiding strenuous activity, heavy lifting, etc…, deploying support trusses like in the old days, but make it into a fashion accessory of some sort… god knows this wasn’t a medical emergency. But I did it anyway, knowing full well that those nurses would rub themselves in all the right places against my soft fur whilst I was under the mysterious spell of anesthesia.

    Consciousness step-function. You don’t even have time to think “when am I going to start getting sleepy?” You’re just teleported to the future, carved up and ripped apart but also repaired and patched back together again. I have no complaints about the docs and nurses at St. Joe’s who deployed just the right balance of pleasant bedside manner and no-nonsense operational efficiency.

    dave, that’s a really interesting article you posted. Written in 1974, quite prescient too, I’d say. Even though many of its key assertions are inherently self-contradictory, it is intellectually honest and exceptionally carefully written. That alone almost makes me hard. But yeah, thanks.

    An excerpt: “To the degree to which he becomes dependent on the management of his intimacy he renounces his autonomy and his health must decline. The true miracle of modern medicine is diabolical. It consists of making not only individuals but whole populations survive on inhumanly low levels of personal health. That health should decline with increasing health-service delivery is unforeseen only by the health manager, precisely because his strategies are the result of his blindness to the inalienability of health.”

  17. I wuz jus trying ta help. You can have some too, JR. For your pain, of course. No recreational use allowed.

    Bunn, if you can sweet talk them into Demerol (a morphine derivative) or a modern equivalent, it’s a sweet ride——–but, that will only make the contrast higher between having the dose and it wearing off. So nevermind.

    RNs usually also give you shit about addiction risks, but hey, who’s the one in pain here?

    Reminds me of a striking cover of Science magazine years ago, all diamond shapes across the cover, alternating black and white ones, with the words EAT and DIE in red and white block letters on each one, respectively.

    My advice is tough it out with the Vics and the percs. Some optional medicinal marijuana, if you got connects to someone with glaucoma. Gotta start getting in shape for the post-PO worldt.

  18. “You’re just teleported to the future, carved up and ripped apart but also repaired and patched back together again.”

    Mission Accomplished, Bunn!! Let me know if you want some Sri Lankan Buddhist monks–I know two out in LA–chanting for you.

  19. Thanks, EE. I think I’m going to stop taking the pills, which don’t seem to be helping much anyway. (No point in ODing on something as stupid as acetaminophen.) Chanting may be as good an alternative as any.

  20. yeah, illich does a pretty good job of parsing the individual industrial experience.

  21. ee,

    yeah, i’ve been practiceing my own brand of possum living for years. i just happen to like young whores and single malt wiskey. everything else is just about the same.

  22. “i just happen to like young whores and single malt wiskey.”

    Nuthin’ wrong with that–especially if they they both like you.

  23. ya, but can 7 billion, or 300+ million people live like possums, each drinking their own bottles of single malt whiskey and subsidizing several young whores?

  24. “…each drinking their own bottles of single malt whiskey and subsidizing several young whores?”

    the calculations have been done, but they remain inconclusive.

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