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Daniel Eran

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High, how are ya?

10:52 AM. More washroom and then wheeled to the OR. In the prep room, one member of the surgical team after the next says hi and then goes over the same stuff over and over again. First a "say-ahh" and a look in my mouth (for tonsils?), then: Allergic to what meds? Age? Arm being worked on?

I'm not kidding about the frequent what-arm check. The head nurse even took out a pen and wrote "YES" with a circle around it just above my splint. Apparently cutting into the wrong thing has been a big problem.

I was trying to get an idea of what they were going to give me to knock me out, and how long I’d be out. They said something about two hours. I got a new IV started and was immediately out. Later I was told, in broken English, I’d been given that to forget what happened. They should supply that in waiting rooms.

It was all done before I recalled anything else. I woke up groggy but everything clarified fast. They finished at 2:30. At 3 PM I was awake and by 4 PM I was fully aware of everything around me. I'd been given:

18 ml morphine
50 mg Demerol
30 mg Toradol
10 mg Vicodin

At 4:20 PM I contributed 800 cc of stuff that would not pass any sort of drug test anywhere. I asked for food but only got crackers and a small apple juice. I asked for some water but they were worried to give me anything. What's the dealio? He seemed pretty astonished that I was so ready to go after that much stuff, and was worried I'd be sick. I was a little weak but just wanted some food stat. I hadn't eaten in half a day. I was so not feeling sick, but they held out on me anyway.

By 6:00 PM I was transferred upstairs to a private room #6355 and even got my own phone number. I was brought a tray of sketchy vegetables, macaroni and cheese, salad with ranch dressing, a fruit cup, a plum and water. I wouldn't have chosen any of those things, but happily devoured it all. The phone up here was the same as the ER; no long distance calling. I still hadn't been able to call my family.

I called Jason, Chris, Missy, Preston and Vince till 7:30. This time, people were home. After all the calling around, I got up again for washroom. I was feeling great, although my arm couldn't do anything at all. It had been bandaged up with a splint that went past my wrist, only allowing my fingertips to wiggle out a little.
Things were looking up. I was done with the waiting part, and they were saying favorable things about how it all went. Plus I was on the horn with friends, which felt good too. Things just kept getting better. But don't take my word for it, read my story about it.

Further details of my crash, treatment and (hopefully) recovery:

Since you got through three pages of unillustrated story, I figure you deserve some photos. As a special treat, they are all extremely unflattering closeup shots involving lots of drugs and no make-up crew whatsoever.

photo photo photo photo photo photo

photo photo photo photo photo photo

But wait, there's more! You also get to inspect my faux album cover art I did for the story. I had to use pics I had already taken, and I was pumped fulla Vicodin and four other prescriptions. And yeah, I do know the movie was ridiculous garbage, and I can't imagine the soundtrack is something anyone would want to buy, but once I get something planned I have to finish it. Plus I liked Damon Wayans stuff in In Living Color , even if I can't remember any SNL skit he was ever in and he has yet to star in a good movie.



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