Word Play by DS

A feature blog by Hugo the Chinchilla's grandfather

I’ve never blogged before. Not sure I should be in or even near a blog. The word sounds like some sort of eerie pit filled with nasty germs or whatever but since I am technically (in a very round about way) related to Hugo and am bored out of my skull, I decided to write what has been bothering me over the past few weeks.

About 15-16 days ago I went into the hospital for a procedure. This procedure is what got me thinking of terms used by the medical community and why I feel there should be a change in verbiage.

First, I had several medical “procedures” (they should just call them tests since that is what they really were), which unfortunately I failed.

Oops! No, that isn’t quit right. You can only fail a test not a procedure so the terms used was I had an abnormality show up. Do they think I would feel bad if they said your “test” results showed this or that? I failed the f**ken test! Hell I have failed many tests throughout school. But in today’s politically correct world they say it is demoralizing to tell kids today they failed anything.

(Yep that will get them ready for the real world.)

"Your math test (or do they call them procedures now days in school) came back with abnormal results, but we know you tried hard so we will just keep moving you along."

Well I must have really failed, aka received abnormal results, because it landed me in the hospital for bypass surgery. I was sure any discomfort (this is the word regularly used instead of pain) was from acid reflux which I had developed over the years. I figured I knew my own body. I have a Bachelor of Science degree and this doctor also has a degree but he insisted my diagnosis was wrong. The “abnormal discomfort” I was occasionally feeling was from my heart and not acid reflux.

I decided his college education was probably more attune to my needs so I went along with his findings.

On March 5th I went in for yet another procedure but somehow it seemed a lot bigger then the casual sound of the word procedure.

I have had very little experience with hospitals. The last time I was in one for myself was 56 years ago. Back then someone screwed up a procedure which almost cost me my life at 4 years old. My mind and body has worked for a long time to keep me out of hospitals so unlike so many others, I wasn’t good at translating what all the soft, well meaning terms tossed out really meant as they prepared me for my procedure which had a chance of ending disastrously. Or as they said, "the possibility of some unexpected outcomes associated with the procedure."

When you are wheeled into an operating room and 6-8 people behind masks are wishing you good luck, the tempered wording “this is a somewhat common procedure” seem to have less calming effect then one might hope.

Upon awakening, (if you can call it that) I vaguely remember they told me beforehand to try to stay calm when you come out of recovery. Just because you have 6 hoses and two IVs in your body, it’s normal.

Ok, time to really get at the crux of this blog.

It may be a normal procedure, and normal afterwards to have all that attached to you. It may be normal to hear beeps, alarms and other sounds, but in no way is it “normal” for me to feel this was normal. However, telling me to try to stay calm when you wake up and trust that our staff knows what all these “normal alarms” and tubes do would be slightly more appropriate, but that's just my opinion.

Besides being "normal", I heard a lot of, “You’re doing just great.” This is another term when used way too much, even a guy with just a college degree in marketing knows is a sales pitch for something probably the opposite. The more they told me how great I was doing the more I felt like something was wrong. Besides, I wasn’t doing anything but laying on my back in the intensive care unit. It was really all those machines doing all the work.

To make a long story short, I made it through the procedure ok. Although for a period there was a problem with my heart rhythm staying in sync, but I wasn't informed of that - probably because they have yet to come up with the appropriate "normal" word for your heart's not doing what it's supposed.

By the time all the tubes were finally going to be removed, I'd had five days of becoming an expert on hospital terms and what they really mean. In fact, I commented about this so often that I think that is why the doctors and nurses stopped using them on me.

When the tubes needed to be removed, the doctor told me I would feel some discomfort while they yanked the tube out. I swear that was the exact phrase he used. I asked if the pain (disguised in the word “discomfort”) could be any less if instead of yanking the tube out, perhaps he could glide the tube free or slide it out. I now know what 10 seconds of childbirth is like. I’m not sure if he glided or yanked the tubes, but I gave birth to 2 healthy suction tubes and 2 identical twin feed tubes.

I couldn’t even make a smart ass comment for nearly 10 minutes afterwords but when I did, all I could manage was, “wow”. This is obviously not a hospital term because no one even looked back at me as they were busy disposing of the 5” fire hose they pulled through my ribs and out of my sides. Ok, maybe not that long but they were at least a ½ inch round.

Things began to get better from this point on so they kicked me out of intensive care.

I asked one last question as I was being wheeled out after my "procedure" (I had to be careful to speak their language other wise they might “shove” one of those hoses back into my side where it looks like I have two fresh new belly buttons). In my previous test (oops procedures) they had found abnormalities that indicated I had 3 abnormal blockages, yet when they opened me up I ended up having to have 5 bypasses. My thinking was, if instead of having "procedures looking for abnormalities" I had, had tests that failed they might have known about these extra two blockages ahead of time.

In the step down unit, hospital terms need some adjustments too. I was told every 8 hours or so, how well I was doing. I was way ahead of some of the others who just came down from intensive care.

Well….duh!! They were all 20 to 30 years older than me. I hope I’m recovering faster than the 90 year old guy two doors down even if he has 6 to 8 times the hospital visit experience under his belt. The worst part was as I was beating him in the 100 foot dash around the nurse's station which we did for exercise, it took so much out of me down that final turn I didn’t have the breath left in me to say, “naw na-na-na naw naw.”

One last term which absolutely must be changed. Three times a day I was given a shot in my stomach to prevent any blood clots. That is fine, but when you are wearing only a smock (I hadn't graduated up to being able to wear big boy underwear or pajamas yet) and they raise it up high enough for them to give you a shot, you are more then a little exposed down there. And what did they say with the smock raised? They hold the needle in one hand and say, "okay, a little prick."

That is not the term as a man you want to hear when it's you’re manhood you are sure they are referring to. The poor little guy was good though all the trauma and drugs from this “procedure”. So the fact he might be a little afraid to come out is no reason to call him a little prick.

Ok, so none of this has anything to do with Hugo other than I want to pass on these words of wisdom in case he ever has to go to the vet while I’m still drugged up. (And that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.)