The Big Day

Tomorrow is the big day.

Please note; it is not “The Big Day”.

Capitalized “Big Day” connotes a day of exceptional importance. Such “Day”s are Wedding Days, Birth of Children Days, Graduation Days. Lower case “big day”s are some what special, out of the ordinary days; such as...oh, let's say a 42^nd birthday. While special, it is not quite as momentous as a Milestone Birthday. Other examples of lower case “big day”s are buying a new car, bagging a first deer, your child losing their first tooth, and landing your first real job.

So, I choose to classify tomorrow as a lower case “big day”. I have the procedure performed. No, not the brain transplant, as many of you may have hoped.

I get to enjoy an angio-gram in my leg. As you may know, I have several blockages in my right leg. The left leg is free of any blockages. I will let the reader draw any unintentional similarities between my current state and Congress. I do find it some what interesting, though.

I will be at our local hospital “In & Out Procedure, Lube, Oil and Rotation Center” by 7:00 in the morning. While the time may be bright and early, I will be not-so-bright, and rather surly; not having my morning cup of java.

Pity the staff; “Mr. Charm” I probably won't be. Pity my Lovely Bride, as she will have to haul my rear end up there, and schlep it back home. The doctor said I may be “a little loopy” from the twilight anesthesia. He clearly doesn't know me very well; as being “a little loopy” is condition normal for me.

Am I nervous? Am I concerned? Did Grizzly Adams have a beard??

Yes, yes, and yes.

It is one thing to hear the academic explanation of this procedure. It is quite interesting to read about the wonders of modern medicine. The little itty-bitty “minimally invasive” incision ,micro-fine wire leaders, pixie-dust infused dye, and how blockages can be opened. Oxygen rich blood flows, and there is great joy and happiness in the kingdom ever after.

Until.....one realizes it is their hide being minimally invaded, their arteries being reamed with micro-fine wire leaders, and so forth. Suddenly, academic interest is tossed out the window. This is serious stuff!

Since childhood, I have harbored a resistance to having my skin being invaded by any means. Be it needles, sharp blades, sharp sticks, mosquitoes, bees, and wasps; I am reluctant to be a participant.

Now don't get me wrong. I bear up well for the odd injection, and I do donate blood on a regular basis. I don't exhibit a behavior referred to by psychologists as “going bonkers” at the sight of needles. I assume a steely stare, grit my teeth, and look the other way as the gigantic, humongous, enormous needle is stuck with super-hero force into my poor unsuspecting vein. One would think my vein would notice that big rubber band around my arm getting tighter and say “Uh, oh... look out, here comes that gigantic, humongous, enormous needle again!” But, no. I suppose veins are not high on the “innate intelligence” list. Afterward, I can sit there and watch with absolute fascination as my blood rushes through the tubing into the collection bag.

Being a knife aficionado (or “hoarding fanatic", according to my Lovely Bride), I have sustained more than my share of cuts, nicks, slices, and gouges while tinkering with, sharpening, cleaning, and in general acting the fool with pocket knives, sheath knives, kitchen knives, even an ancient Native American flint knife. So... the idea of having someone standing over me with a super-sharp blade in hand waiting to cut away, is a bit disconcerting. Even if their title is “Doctor”

I have also been researching stents on the internet.

This is not such a good idea.

Why is it that nearly every authoritative article states “the use of a stent does not ensure a positive, long-term result.”??

I think “What the heck is this all about?” This is not unlike telling a home-owner 'digging up your entire yard, replacing your 6 inch drains with 8 inch drains will not ensure your toilet does not back up'.

It raises a definite question: What is the point of all this? Is this little mesh wonder going to be nothing more than a funnel cake trap? Is that chuck of Italian sausage from the pizza going to become entangled in this thing?

Yet, it seems as if nearly everyone I encounter knows of someone who under went this procedure. They all (well, nearly all) recount the ease and relative simplicity of the process. And yes, the recovery rate has been astounding.

I realize I am being a wimp. I will get through this with no problem. A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do, pilgrim.

One of my greatest hopes is that I will be able to tap-dance when this is done with.

Lord knows, I sure can't now!