Hey Doc, It’s My Pneumo Thorax

Take a look at this drawing done by my endocrinologist about a year and a half ago.

parathyroid for wordpress

I included that image in an earlier post, but repeat it here for comparison purposes, because if that drawing were done today, it would look like this.

parathyroid, minus one

That’s because about a week ago a surgeon removed one of the four parathyroid glands from my neck.  It was out-patient surgery, a big success (blood work back to normal), and I was back riding my bike two days later.  It’s boring reading about OPH (other people’s health), so that’s it on that.

But two related things strike me as worthy of comment.  First, anesthesia, wow, that’s some crazy stuff.  Even after the procedure is over, it leaves me in a kind of “na na land.”  For example, after my last colonoscopy I said to The Princess, “Hey, I thought the doctor was always supposed to come out and talk to you after the procedure, you know, to tell you the results.”  The Princess answered, “She did, you goober.”  Huh?  I had absolutely no recollection of that.  After this most recent surgery, the nurses said that after they wheeled me into the recovery room, I sat straight up on the gurney and said, “I’m in pain.”  I think it’s pretty interesting that although I have no memory of this, my body sure knew what was going on.  Then later, after we’d been home for a few hours I commented that I thought it odd that someone didn’t wheel me out to the curb in a wheel chair like they usually do.  Again, The Princess, “Someone did, you dim wit.”  I guess this is why it says on the written “post-op” instructions, “DON’T SIGN ANY LEGAL DOCUMENTS FOR 48 HOURS FOLLOWING SURGERY.”  But given the apparent blanks I have in my life following anesthesia, The Princess could have had me sign numerous things over the years, and I wouldn’t even remember having done so.  Come to think of it, what are all those large automatic withdrawals from the checking account each month?

The second item worth mentioning is the seemingly related dream I had last night.  By the way, as messed up as I am, and prone to things like the gephyrophobia, which I mentioned in the last post, I do not fuss (much) about surgery.  I think the reason surgery doesn’t scare me is that everything is out of my hands, the people are pros, and it’s on them, so to speak if something goes wrong.  What would scare me is if I had anything to do with the surgery.  That scares the Pony too.  He lives in fear when I’m operating on him!

But back to my dream, it takes place in an operating room.  I am lying on the operating table surrounded by medical people.  Nobody is doing anything because something is wrong with me and they can’t figure out what.  I finally have to tell them that I think I’m bleeding internally.  They all start poking around trying to find the source of the bleeding, but can’t find it.  Again, I have to help them along by explaining that it’s my “pneumo thorax.”  I did not make that up; well, obviously it’s made up, but it was really in the dream.  Call me crazy, but I knew as soon as I woke up, that the exact name of the organ was so important that I went straight into the den and wrote those words down on my note pad.
Well, as you can imagine, my reference to my pneumo thorax has everyone flummoxed, but someone gets a medical book and tries to look it up.  Again a problem, because the doctor can’t find it in the book.  Once more I have to get involved, because I can see that the lame brain is looking under “N,” when in fact the word starts with a silent “P.”
Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately (who knows), that’s where the dream kind of petered-out.  What will they find in the medical book?  Will they refuse to operate on a “know-it-all” English major, not caring for his attitude.  Will they indeed find the pneumo thorax and if so, will they be able to stop the bleeding?  With everything that took place, and all of these open questions, it felt to me as if that dream lasted for hours.  I can remember feeling so frustrated that these people just seemed so incapable of getting on with the operation.   In the end I suppose this was one of those “good news-bad news” things.  Luckily I had the dream  after my recent surgery, but man it sure doesn’t do much for my confidence level should there ever be another.  Hey, what’s the word for fear of surgery?

Pony News
I’ve begun work on that last wheel.  Here are a few shots of the paint stripping.  You should be able to click on the photos to make them bigger and scroll through them.  When done, just click on the “X” in the upper left corner of the image.

All photos courtesy of Lynne. 

I’ll keep you posted as “wheel” progress continues.  Don’t worry, I know it looks pretty rough now, but so did the other one, and it came out just fine.  Also, here’s a shot of the left tool bar all done and bolted back on the Pony; the right one is finished too. 

Front Tool Bar

The tool bars are used for attaching a plow, or cultivator underneath the tractor.  Finally, here’s a little teaser to give you a first glimpse of what the fenders will look like.  I did a test attachment today and took this shot showing one of the eBay fenders as refurbished by Jim.  Those fenders are absolutely “as smooth as a baby’s butt.”  Wonderful work, Jim.

left fender test attach

It’s now my job to prime and paint.

Here’s a little exit music to take you out.  Just click here, and thanks for reading.

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One response to “Hey Doc, It’s My Pneumo Thorax

  1. Damn I’m glad you’re not a doctor! And by the way, pneumothorax is ONE word and by and large, they don’t bleed – but that’s getting too technical. Now, question. When you found the Pony it had no attachments. Ever wonder what they were doing with it out there?

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