Status Quasi Quo HNT

There are so many things I did today that are going to get my ass kicked... Nothing like a little debautchery to get one in the mood for emotional healing :)

I have had some outrageous moments of emotion in the last 72 hours that make me a bit uncontrollable, but I think we all get that way when we lose somebody, especially when it's the 5th person you've said good-bye to in the last month or two... The fact that it's family makes it heart wrenching.

I've said thank you to everyone so many times lately it feels repetitive, but you know what? I totally mean it and your prayers and thoughts are working because it was a semi-decent kind of day today... Except for trying to be humorous which, in fact, came and went but was totally distasteful and dark none the less.

Which bring us to the surgery (HA):

6am: Admit him, fill out the insurance and consent forms.
Receptionist and triage nurse asks me if I'm his wife, to which I say 'no'. She scopes my wedding ring and continues to ask if I am a family member. I tell her "I'M HIS RIDE." Which insights and even stranger look from the triage area... So I find myself stuttering to explain that I'm somebody else's wife, I'm just his girl friend. Uhh girl thats a friend... JESUS.

Which only made it worse...
Things just got kinda weird from there. Shawn gloats about me being his girlfriend, I roll my eyes...

6:50am: They call his name and he's on his way back for pre-op. The nurse asks me to wait for his belongings since they can't hold his personal effects in the 'recovery areas'. I'm thinking pants, shirt, uhh socks.... Wallet... HEY WALLET!!!!

She comes out with pants and shirt, shoes, socks... and WALLET! I open it just for fun and see the luxurious contents before me:

a. bus pass
b. Drivers License with bad photo
c. Beat up photocopy of a social security card (with his middle name on it!!! LOL)
d. Two dollars

Then she hands me a little blue plastic bag. Me being the curious one that I am, opted to look inside... Huge mistake. Underwear and ice pack.
Nice, great... Me stuck with Shawns underwear all fucking day... My car should smell GREAT after sitting in the 70 degree weather with those in there all day long.

As the triage nurse walks away with Shawn looking like a scared child over his shoulder, I pulled the administrative nurse to the side and told her to remind the doc "to go easy on him, he's still nervous about the sex change even after all the hormone therapy and consultations."

She didn't laugh. I did.

7:15 - 9ish: I work, therefore I blogged and then decided that I was in a terrible mood to be social and shoved my head up my ass and into my work. Then I figured work was over-rated and tried to blog again. Then I realized that blogger was somebody's anal slave today and I should be working again. And then I cried. Again. Fuckin pathetic.

Anybody have any idea how hard it is to masturbate right now? No wonder I'm crying!!

930ish: Call from hospital, Shawn has made it safely through anesthesia and surgery has begun. It's procedure for them to call and let the spouse or family member know the patient is safe "And since you're neither, you're just his RIDE, we thought you might care."
uh-huh. Catty nurse bitches. I care.

930-3ish: Work, thought about Vegas. Work, thought about Vegas. Work, cried... thought about Teresa Naomi in a towel and black halter top. Masturbation sounded ok. Realized I had to pick up Shawn!!!

3:36pm: Call from hospital saying surgery was successful and Mr. Simpson was resting peacefully in recovery. I reply that I was on my way to pick him up and was advised that I may have to wait until the doctor clears him for release. I say OK, and was tempted to ask her if the genital manipulation will appear normal and non-swollen in a couple of weeks. But I didn't.

3:50pm: I show up at the Outpatient unit to see him, was advised that he had been moved to inpatient, Room 449a. Huh. Why I wonder... "They decided his condition necessitated he be admitted."

I'm thinking to myself, holy shit I hope they didn't really give him a vagina. I was kidding, and well.. FUCK... So I hurry to room 449a.

ROOM 449a:

Shawn is on Morphine.
He's a mess... And he's the king of his own la la land.
He owns a dog named Rusty that pisses on himself and he thinks that cheeseburgers should be thin, like ham sandwiches. He also believes he just gave birth to something that's now hanging off the side of his leg (which is the bag for the catheter), and that the hotel here has purple carpet.

He is drooling, he is unresponsive to common sense, he tells me that I look like Drew Barrymore, I ask him if the doctor has been in to see him.

"Mr. Green jeans?"

"No hun, the doctor.. Has he been here to see you? Has any one been here to see you yet and tell you what your status is?"

"Status, what the fuck does that have to do with it, we get great reception here I bet. Hey drew, do me a favor and yank on that tube it's bothering me."

I find myself scurrying to Yahoo IM and email in order to tell the powers that be, Shawn will not be in shape for this event a local town here is sponsoring that he promised he'd be good enough to cover... Cause he's an idiot.

"Drew, my stomach hurts I need yogurt for my yeast infection..."

My fingers work fast and furious to text in a message as I laugh hysterically at this comment and have no idea what the fuck to say back to him. "What the hell are you talking about dumb ass? You can't have yogurt right now!! Have ice chips.... ice chips."

I hear back from the big boss that a replacement will be issued for Shawns assignment and that he'll be over to pay a visit this evening. I relay the news to Shawn who decides to play devils advocate to the yogurt comment instead.

"I bet women like yogurt. Why don't they make cum flavored yogurt, the kind where the filling rests at the bottom and you have to stir it."

(sigh) okay I needed comedy relief, but this is borderline ridiculous.

"DREW yank on my tube already, it's creeping me out."

"Fuck Shawn jesus, haven't you ever been on morphine? I'm not yanking that tube, it's attached to your schlong. So no doctor."

"Mr. Greenjeans came in yes, said I would feel like a new woman tomorrow but I stay here tonight. No idea why he called me a woman unless I've lost my penis. Look under the covers drew and tell me if it's still there."

So what do you do?
.
.
.
K, so I'm curious... And well I wonder what the hell the doctor meant with the womanly comment and I'm paranoid about my sick joke this morning. Do I look?

Do I?

(stay tuned tomorrow for the exciting sequel!!! And find out if I looked, and if so what I saw...)

***

Shawn persisted I honor his penis for HNT. So since blogger is co-operating with me, I think I will... Here is what Shawn's dick head looked like before the accident (as requested).

I for fucks sake hope it's still there people. I for fucks sake really do.



If you want to learn more about HNT, click on the rolling box and talk to my big sweet HNT daddy, Osbasso!