Wednesday, October 22, 2003

October 22, 2003
I survived the angiogram and got to come home a little after noon. Got to the hospital at six, big group of us sitting in the waiting room. A nurse came thru and told us all to follow her. We looked like some Condo buyers on a junket.

The day before, Meghan gave me a little, stuffed furry dog to take in the operating room for good luck. Several people naturally thought I was gay carrying the stuffed dog, but it worked ( got two dates). Very sweet on her part.

Got in the operating room around eight. A guy shaved me (yes, they shaved me down there) and I asked the nurse how he got such a “great job—shaving old men’s privates.” And he said he was just naturally lucky like that. The actual procedure wasn’t all that bad. Saw my heart pumping on a big TV screen. Looked like bad science fiction from the fifties. Black an white, grainy, monster lit. They found one vein with 55% blockage, but the surgeon came in and took one look at it and said, “It’s fine.” So they wheeled me back to a recovery room and I had to lie on my back for two hours. After about 45 minutes I had to pee like a racehorse, so they brought in this orange juice container looking thing and told me to go at it. If you’ve ever tried to pee lying on your back, it isn’t easy. If fact, I couldn’t do it. They are concerned that the groin bandaid covering a major artery might spurt.

Got home at about two. Slept real hard. Mike Melrose called around four and wanted to know if I could come up to the office and help them unload boxes of the new issue that just arrived by Fed Ex. He was joking of course. I can’t even tie my shoes for two or three days.

"According to fashion experts, the woman's thong is finally going out of fashion.  Designers blame the thong's demise on changing styles, a more conservative public, and Anna Nicole-Smith."
 —Conan O'Brien

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