Cut Open Again

Yesterday was one of those days where I should have just stayed in bed. I should have clicked the off button on the alarm, pulled the sheets over my head and gone back to sleep. Instead, I had my stomach cut open again and my dog had a $1600 vet visit.

I knew a big vet bill was coming. The hound has had a sinus infection (or something similar)for a few weeks that antibiotics haven't cleared, so she had a procedure called a rhinoscopy, which along with all the other fun stuff that accompanies it, cost $1600. The real kick in the dick is that it wasn't even necessary. The vet didn't find anything and instead put the dog on some other meds to clear her nasal passage. I can't help but feel that the dog was put through unnecessary stress just so the vet could rack up a nice bill.

After I dropped the hound off at the vet I went to my surgeon for a follow-up visit. The doc looked over my stitches and said that the incision by my belt-line (it's actually halfway between my belt and my junk) looked infected. He moved me to another room where he did an ultra sound on the area and found an "abscess", which is essentially fluid trapped under the skin, likely a result of irritation from a stitches.

The doc said "This is not uncommon, we can take care of this here, let me get a nurse". The area in question looked like a big zit. It was a little smaller than a dime, red, and raised like a mountain. I figured he would squeeze it or stick it with a pin and I'd be on my way. Wishful thinking.

Moments later the doc returned with a nurse and a silver tray stacked with bottles, packages, needles, scalpels and a very large set of hooked needle-nose pliers.

The doctor left and the nurse had me unbutton my jeans and pull my pants down to the top of my crotch. She then tucked a piece of paper into my pants and folded it back over my jeans and had me hike up my shirt so that she had a clear work area. While she was sorting through her tray of toys she said "So, any travel plans this summer?" Really, we're going to make small talk now? This is exactly what my dentist does too. She pulled a disposable razor off the tray and started shaving the area around the zit...dry, without cream, or water, or anything.

I said "Uh, actually, I'm going to Chile Sunday..." but trailed off, saddened by the bare 6"x6" square around mount zit.

"Chile, huh, going to be cold down there, right?" I was looking at the area she just shaved and chuckled because it now reminded me of the Japanese flag. I said "Actually, I'm going to Santiago, in northern Chile, it's summer down there.." I stopped when she pulled out a long piece of tape and started applying it on my flag and ripping it up. rrrrrrrrrRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIPPPPPPPPPP "Whoa! What's that about?" I said, fighting back the urge to elbow her in the eye socket. "I'm removing the hairs I just shaved." I said "And a few you haven't".

"How long will you be in Peru?" Now she was swabbing the area with iodine, which ruined my flag. "Chile.", I said "Right, Chile. So, it's summer there?" I decided that since she's wasn't really listening I didn't have to respond. She didn't get the hint, though. While she drew fluid into a syringe she said "Isn't Chile down by Antarctica? Just a little pinch, now." and with that she I watched her plunge the needle into the tip of the zit. I was holding onto the sides of the table to keep my ass from lifting off, which would have driven the needle deeper. I said "I'm sorry, it's just hard for me to concentrate on geography with that needle in me."

The nurse pumped the topical anesthetic from the syringe into my zit, which made it almost triple in size. As she finished the doctor came in and they talked shop while he put on his gloves. He then came over and said "It's starting to get warm out, any travel plans this summer?" He was removing the cap off a scalpel so I decided not to get into the Chile discussion and just shook my head. The nurse was poking me with the needle and asking me if I felt anything. Then she said "He's going to Chile Sunday. I thought Chile was near Antarctica?" At least she got the country right.

The doc said "Ok, just a little pressure now." I then watched him stick the tip of the scalpel into the base of the left side of the zit, then drag it over the top to the right side, leaving a very fine, shallow, line like a paper cut. The nurse adjusted a huge light above us and nodded. The doc then retraced his line and pushed in HARD when he got to the peak of the zit. I felt a "pop", then about threw up when I saw a stream of milky white spooge explode out of the tip of the zit. He said "There's the fluid". No shit, you think?

He continued to cut and dig with the scalpel. Occasionally the nurse would swab the huge pool of blood with some gauze. It's a very unsettling sensation having someone cut into your numbed skin. I was surprised by how much pressure was necessary to cut the skin, I thought it would just part if you touched the scalpel to it. Not so, though. He was almost sawing the skin, and I could feel tugging.

The blood was really coming now and no one was making small talk, which was a relief. The nurse swabbed the incision with gauze and the doc said "Hot pen, please". She rooted around the tray but couldn't find it. She put down the gauze and searched the tray with both hands. The once mighty zit was now split open like an erupted volcano, blood and puss flowing down the right side. Doc abandoned his post too and was shuffling through the drawers on the room. The nurse said "Check the top drawer". I took up swabbing duty. I didn't even know what a "hot pen" was, but I really hoped they found it soon, it seemed important and I was bleeding a lot.

The doc found it - right in the top drawer like the nurse said. It looked like a big white magic marker. He pulled the cap off and exposed a wire loop on the tip. I said "Looks like a soldering iron" he laughed and pushed a button that made the loop immediately glow red. He said "Exactly like a soldering iron." Cue nervous laughter from NN - "I don't see any wire around..."

The nurse was back to swabbing and the doc said "We're going to cauterize the blood vessels then pack the cavity. The wound will heal from the inside out so that it doesn't close up and fester again." For those of you who haven't figured out what "cauterizing" is, it loosely means "to burn the shit out of something with a red-hot poker to stop from bleeding". It's probably German.

I then watched in morbid fascination as the nurse pried open the gash with the hooked needle-nose pliers and the doctor jammed the red tip into the hole. When the tip hit skin or whatever else is in that hole, there was a hissing noise followed by a narrow slit of white smoke that rose up about twelve inches. I've never smelled burning flesh before, but it smells just like burning hair - which is to say it's nauseating.

As promised, once the flesh-burning was complete the wound was packed with a 4" ribbon of white fabric. A gauze pad was placed over that and taped down with a huge layer of sticky tape that will remove the few remaining pubic hairs I have left above my gear.

Pretty great Wednesday.

Travel and ME's Birthday

I'm wiped out. It took me a solid two weeks to recuperate from my surgery. I then spent a long weekend in Burlington, VT visiting my nephew then spent eight days in Utah working and hanging out with some friends. This coming Sunday I fly to Santiago, Chile for work, then plan to spend a few days in either Rio or Bogota.

Between the travel and being laid up from surgery I haven't gone out much. ME visited me a few times while I was recovering and even made me dinner one night, which I thought was very nice of her. Bartender fell out of the picture for those three weeks, though, and I haven't seen DGII since that night we went out for dinner.

Things with ME are going much better than I would have originally thought. Her birthday is next week, but since I'm going to be away for ten days we are going to get dinner together this weekend before I leave for my trip. Her mom is in town so she asked if she could come along, which I of course said was fine.

I'm not sure what I'm going to get her for her birthday, though. I wanted to take her on the bike to a B&B in the mountains for the weekend, but I don't think it's acceptable in her culture for an unmarried couple to go away together like that. I may have to get her a small gift that she can open in front of her mom and then plan the trip and tell her about it later.

I talked this over with my buddy Chuck and he said "Are things serious with this girl?" I don't know if I would classify us as "serious" but I did say that I like her. Chuck said "Why don't you give her exclusivity for her birthday?". The concept is funny if you think about it, I bet that's a concept Hallmark would run with and do a whole line on.

All kidding aside, I have considered cutting ties with Bartender and seeing where things go with ME.

On a totally unrelated topic I heard that Kay and Roja (whom I haven't written much about but dated for a while when I first moved to DC) both got engaged recently. Then I actually ran into Roja Saturday night. We passed each other in a crowded bar. I would have said hello but she shot me a quick sideways glance then ducked into a group of people. She made believe she didn't see me but I could tell she did by the look on her face.

Organ Harvesting

When I got home from dinner with DGII last Tuesday I wasn't feeling so great. My new dating schedule has me drinking 4-5 nights a week, so naturally when the right side of abdomen felt like I was kicked by a mule I assumed the worst: sirrhosis of the liver.

I was on the road for work Wednesday, main-lining coffee and eating rich foods, so when I still didn't feel great that night I didn't think much of it. I wasn't in any real pain, there was just a dull, throbbing, pressure in my belly like I was bloated.

However, I woke Thursday morning to an intense shooting pain under my right lower ribs. A quick consultation with WebMD changed my self-diagnosis from liver disease to kidney stones. I was supposed to fly to South America Sunday night for work so I decided to deviate from my normal "no doctor" policy and scheduled an appointment to get the problem checked out before I got on a plane for ten hours.

As expected the trip to my doctor was a complete waste of time. After hours in the waiting room and a five minute exam he sent me for a CAT scan, which because of health care red-tape could not be scheduled until Friday morning. In the meantime I was treated to two giant containers of barium sulfate, which if you haven't had the pleasure, looks, smells, and probably tastes like lead-based paint. Delicious. After the scan I grabbed lunch then headed home to await the call from the doctor with the results.

At 3:30 my doctor called and said my kidneys looked clear but my appendix was enlarged. I was no longer in pain and he surmised I was likely in the clear, but that it would be prudent to have a surgeon take a look at the scans and clear me for travel. Being late in the afternoon on a Friday my doctor said the only place I could likely see a surgeon was the ER. I asked him if he thought this was absolutely necessary and he said he "strongly encouraged it". Given the length of my flight and the medical care available in southern Chile I opted to go to the ER for a quick look.

I pulled into the hospital and parked in the visitor's lot thinking that I would be in and out. I signed in at the front desk and explained that I needed a surgeon to review my scans and clear me for a flight. Within twenty minutes I was half naked and a nurse was inserting a rather large needle into my arm to start an IV drip. I kept saying "No, this really isn't necessary, I just need the doc to take a look at my scans". The nurses all just nodded and kept on swabbing and poking.

Finally a doctor introduced herself and asked me why I was there. I told her the story and she gave me an exam. She said that since I wasn't in any pain I would likely be cleared to fly and sent home, but that she wanted the surgeon and radiologist to look me over first. A short while later another doctor examined me then walked off with my scans. I was hooked up to an IV and was only wearing a johnny coat, so I just sat there and read the book I had brought along. A nurse darted in and out of my room so I flirted with her for a while until she asked me when my last bowel movement was, which pretty much killed any connection we had established. I may use that next time I'm in a bar and want to get away from a girl.

Thirty minutes passed before Nurse Bowel Movement returned and started hooking up new bags to my IV drip and asked if I wanted to call anyone. I said "No, why?" and she said "To let them know about your surgery." I said "What surgery, no one told me about any surgery", and she said "You have an acute appendicitis, they are going to remove it. They called the PA and anaesthesiologist, they should be here shortly"...I said "Sweet".

Now they put me on a gurney and rolled me to an elevator. We went up a floor or two and when the door opened we were greeted by four women who started hammering me with questions. "Do you smoke, do you do cocaine, do you smoke marijuana, have you ever had abdominal surgery before, do you have a living will, how did you get to the hospital, are you allergic to any medications, who would you like called in the event of an emergency..." The list went on and I was starting to get nervous. I was still in my johnny coat but I had all my clothes and my cell phone in a plastic bag on my lap, so I went through the bag and pulled out my phone. I quickly called my parents to let them know what I was going on. I didn't tell them earlier in the week about my abdominal pains because I didn't want to get them nervous, so naturally they were pretty shocked to learn I was being wheeled into the ER at that very moment. I finally said "OK, Mom, I gotta go, they want to put me under now..." and hung up. I later got a good yelling at for that.

The last step was when a security guard come up to me and said "I'm here to inventory your belongings". The guy counted my cash, made note of my credit cards, wrote down the model number of my cell phone, then made me sign two inventory sheets. I said "This is kind of like jail" but no one found that funny. He was just about to walk away and the nurse said "You forgot his watch". Anyone who knows me knows I don't take my watch off for anything except to put on another watch. I said "I'm not taking it off". She said I couldn't go into surgery with it on. Reluctantly, I took off my Rolex and handed it to a complete stranger. This went against every instinct I had. I signed off on the watch and the guard promptly dropped it on the floor. I said "Oh, yeah, that's great for it. The owner's manually actually says to drop it on the floor once a month. Thanks." and with that the guard walked off. I came to terms with the fact that I would probably never see the watch again. I probably should have been more concerned with my appendix than my watch, but it took my mind off the fact that I was about to gutted like a pig.

I don't remember much between the watch hitting the floor and waking up in a room late that night. My first thought when my eyes opened was that I felt like I had been in a fight. My stomach, throat and groin were killing me. I later learned that I had been intubated to keep from choking and a catheter was inserted to drain my bladder. So I was wrong, I hadn't been in a fight, I had been raped. Thanks, hospital.

Since the surgery I have been splayed out on my couch watching movies and reading. I can move around a little, but I feel like an octogenarian. I walk hunched over, can only wear sweatpants and loose t-shirts, I keep forgettting what day it is, and I haven't really left the house since Saturday.

DGII

After a few weeks of trying to schedule a time to get together, DGII and I finally met up last night for dinner on the Hill. She's a cool girl and overall the night went well, but I did not get the sense there was much connection.

I spoke with DGII Monday night and we decided to get together for a drink after work. We agreed on a spot and I said I would pick her up at 7pm. At 7pm she called and asked for a "courtesy fifteen". Not a problem on the first date, so I said sure and gave her a "courtesy thirty".

I showed up at DGII's house, knocked on the door, then heard a bunch of yelling inside. I thought I heard "Come in!", but just before I opened the door I thought "Maybe she said coming, and not come in" so I decided to wait for her to open the door. When she did I was greeted by her and a little growling pit bull.

I had only briefly met DGII a couple of times, and I think both at night, so I didn't really remember what she looked like, but I was pleasantly surprised when I saw her again. She's about 5'8", thin, with long strait jet-black hair and really big brown eyes.

Our plans were to get drinks but when we arrived at the restaurant it was packed. Most of the tables were full and there were no open seats at the bar. We walked to the hostess station and DGII said "Did you make a reservation", and I said "No, I didn't think we would need one on a Tuesday night". She said "That's OK, I called ahead". Normally I would think this was a presumptive move, but given how busy the place was I was impressed. To be honest, I felt like a dick for not thinking of it myself.

I thought dinner went well. We had a fair amount in common and she is easy to talk to and likes to laugh. She is very confident and wasn't afraid to swear or touch on topics that most girls avoid. For instance, I told her I was from a large family and that I was a "surprise" to my parents. She laughed then started to say something, but then stopped and I could tell she had something funny but was holding back. When I pressed her she said she has a friend who was also a "surprise" and that he refers to himself as "a load that was meant to be swallowed". I thought it was hysterical, and I've never heard it put quote so delicately before.

The other noteworthy thing about DGII was that her voice and delivery didn't match her appearance. She has a quiet, reserved look about her, but she talks like a Brooklyn trucker. It's more how she says things than the actual content (above example excluded). DGII has a tough-guy chip on her shoulder like she grew up with a bunch of big older brothers (which I later confirmed she didn't). It would be easy to catigorize the way she talks as unpolished, but I like it and took it as a sign that she was relaxed.

We finished dinner around 11pm and I was exhausted so I didn't suggest getting a drink afterwards, but it was late enough on a school night that I didn't think a night cap or anything else was expected. We talked about music and a few other things on the drive home, and when we pulled up to her house she just kept on talking. At first she was just finishing her story, then she started rambling on and I wasn't sure if she was stalling waiting for me to do something or stalling so that I couldn't make a move. When she ran out of breath I said "OK, well, I had a great time, let's do something when I get back into town in a few weeks (I have two weeks of business travel coming up)", she said "Yeah, that would be great", then spread her arms really wide and came in for this big exaggerated hug, which in my experience is never a good sign.

I didn't hear anything from DGII today and didn't call or text either. However, I think tomorrow I will shoot her a text just to say I had a good time.



I

Criticism

I thought I should briefly address the recent criticism. In short, I don't know any of you and don't care what you think of me. I don't care if you read my blog or like my writing style. I don't care if you think I'm an asshole (which I generally admit I am) or full of shit. I am simply retelling events in my life because I think the dating scene in DC is interesting. Often I just copy and paste emails that I sent to friends into the blog then change names, places, or slightly blurr timelines to cover my identity. If you want to read something that has been fact-checked go buy a New York Times. If you want to criticize, I am fine with that, believe me when I tell you that you're not hurting my feelings. The comments are usually amusing to me, especially when someone accuses me of defending myself as an anonymous poster. The irony is that if I did have something to gain from this blog I would be better off posting anonymous criticism than defensive rhetoric because the hits on the page go through the roof when the criticism is posted.

Enough on this, go about your day.

Special Brownies

Saturday night I had plans to get dinner at Marvin and see a show at the Black Cat with ME. ME has never done any drugs, but had been wanting to try weed, so to spice things up a bit I brought along some special brownies.

Before I get to the brownies I need to talk about ME's inability to be on-time for anything. We've gone out thirty or forty times now and she's never been on time. She's always thirty minutes late so I've started just factoring that into our plans. Saturday night the show started at 9, and I figured it takes an hour to eat, so I asked her to meet me at the restaurant at 7:30.

I arrived at 7:25 and like clockwork received a text from her saying she was running a half hour late. Then, at 8 she sent me another text saying she was 20 minutes away. When she still wasn't there at 8:30 I texted her and said I was leaving when I finished my cocktail, so she had about ten minutes. ME's next text said "Wait, trust me, I'll make it up to you". I wasn't really going to leave but I was pissed. She showed up just about ten minutes later.

After I gave ME shit for a few minutes I pulled the brownies from my coat pocket and placed one on her bread plate and one on mine. She said "What's that?", and I said "It's a brownie, a special brownie". ME was confused, she picked it up, smelled it, and asked where I got it. I told her my friend made them for me for Halloween. She said "Why would you keep a brownie that long, what's so special about it?" Maybe they don't have pot brownies in the middle east. Despite her heavy accent I sometimes forget ME didn't grow up in the US and doesn't always understand my pop culture (or drug) references. In a hushed tone so the couple at the table next to us couldn't hear I said "It was frozen. It's a pot brownie. You said you wanted to try them?".

I was expecting a million questions from ME, but instead she just popped the whole thing in her mouth, chewed a couple of times, swallowed, then said "It's dry, but good". I shrugged and ate mine as well.

My sister had tried one of the brownies and said it was VERY strong, like "stuck on the couch all day" strong, so I cut one brownie in half for ME and I to share. It was her first time and didn't want her to be overwhelmed.

Within twenty minutes I started to feel the tell-tale tingling sensation of the pot kicking in. I asked ME if she felt anything and she no. A few minutes later I saw her muttering to herself so I asked her who she was talking to? ME said "I was just saying my address." I asked why and she said "Because I thought I forgot it". I leaned in and said "You're stoned, trust me".

When we got to the Black Cat we were in the full grip of the brownies. I got us drinks as the opening act took the stage. When they started to play ME said "The music, it's too much. I feel like they are playing inside me". Then the light show started and ME about lost her mind. The main act, Si Se, came on a short time later and put on a great show. However, the combination of a violin and an overzealous percussion guy proved to be too much for ME and she asked if we could go back to my house. I said sure and we cabbed back to my place.

When we got to my house we went right to the bedroom. ME had on stretch pants, a tight shirt, and this furry belt around her waist. I took off her shirt and pants, but couldn't figure out the belt, so we just left it on. ME is a handful in bed to begin with, but in her heightened state of euphoria she was almost out of control.

Fifteen minutes into round one ME was on top of me grinding away. Instead of grabbing her hips I looped my hands through the belt, gave each side a half-twist, and used it like a handle to manipulate her body. Maybe it was the drugs, but having that handle was like finding another gear, she went even crazier. The noises she made were disturbing. They were a cross between grunts and guttural groans, like GRRRRRR's and UGGGGHHHHHH's combined in short and long bursts. They were sounds I've never heard come out of a human before. I imagine it's the sound a woman would make if you stabbed her in the belly, very hard, with a large knife. I liked the groans and found that if I hit certain spots inside her the groans would get louder or softer, depending on the spot. The downside was that I was terrified my tenant was going to call the police. Being somewhat paranoid I kept one eye on my window and expected to see flashing lights at any moment.

At 3am ME woke me up and said she had to go home. I hate the fact that she can't spend the night because each trip to her house takes an hour round trip. I had sobered up but still wasn't happy about the drive. She said I could drop her off at Union Station to catch a cab, but the last time I did that she laced into me about how she almost froze to death, so that lesson was learned and I just drove her home then turned around and came right back to my place.

Changing subjects, I got a call from DGII, the chick who I left the note on her car. We have plans to get drinks this week. Apparently she didn't think the note was creepy.

Can't Win Them All

I met a girl in my neighborhood just before the holidays. She was walking her dog by my house and we stopped and talked for a few minutes. Then, during the last snow storm I saw her in a car stuck in the snow on the side of the road. I pushed her out and we exchanged names, and I thought I picked up on a connection, but I haven't seen her since.

Last Thursday night I was walking the dog and saw her car parked in the same area she had gotten stuck. Snow was in the forecast that night so I went home and wrote the following note (paraphrased):

"Dear [Dog Girl 2],

I saw your car and remembered the forecast is calling for snow tonight. My number is below, give me a call if you get stuck again and need another push...or would like to get a drink together sometime.

-[signed with full name]
[my phone number]"

I put the note in an envelope with her name on the front, placed it in a plastic bag, and put it under her windshield wiper.

I talked to some friends and they said there are four possible reactions she could have. The first is, "Holy shit this is creepy, the dude is a stalker". The second is "It's kind of sweet but I have a boyfriend". The third is she's single but didn't find me attractive and the fourth is she's flattered and calls me.

She hasn't contacted me. Aside from feeling rejected, I'm pissed because she lives on my favorite dog walking route, which I now have to abandon because I don't want to bump into her again.