This is gun'na be long, but here it goes. I had the Nuss Procedure done for my Pectus Excavatum condition; they had to place a steel bar into my ribs and force them forward, now I have to keep it in for another year or two. The surgury itself only took about 2 hours (naturally, I was unconscious the entire time), and when I came to a few minutes after, I was completely out of it, I couldn't even open my eyes to focus. I requested some medication because I was feeling itchy so they gave me a drug called Rubain. Turns out I'm allergic to it because I started to have a panic attack and they put me on another medication. I had to stay in the recovery wing for an entire week, only getting about 2 hours of sleep each day because the heavy duty anti-pain narcotics kept me jittery (and when I say heavy, I mean HEAVY; at one point I was lying down and had my knees up; when I trying to lay my leg flat, they automaticly retracted and were shakey).
Also, because of the pressure on my chest, I would get severe hiccups during every meal because the esophagus was in a slightly new position and was adjusting (speaking of which, for the next two months I could LITERALLY hear my inards repositioning themselves with that sort of nasty alien-pod-hatching-open sound). Also, I had to be put on a catheter (think I spelled that right) and they had two young nurses come position it.
Now I'm a young man, and what happens when two young nurses come and start messing with a young man's junk?
That's right; erection.
Not my finest hour.
Later, they had to remove the catheter and told me I had to pee within an hour or they would have to put it back in. So I tryed. And tryed. And I got nothing. So now they had to put it back in, but this time I wasn't on the magic-liquid-hypno-painkiller-juice, so it hurt.
A lot.
Ah, but it gets better kids, and by better I course means sucks worse.
So at some point within the next day I have to pee. So I do. Except the catheter apparently wasn't put in exactly right and half the urine was going in and the other was going out. And it hurt.
A lot.
So then they had to remove it. And it hurt.
A lot.
All the meanwhile I'm spending a week in a bed that hasn't been changed and is now covered in a thin layer of my own blood, sweat, and urine.
Nice.
Then I spend the next two months in a recliner, the first two weeks of which I couldn't get myself out of so I had to rely on others. Also during this time I was put on the magic-pink-painkilling-narcotic pill. I was promptly addicted to them for a week before I realized it and managed to switch over to high doses of ibuprophen.
That's about it I think, I've had the bar in a little over a year now and it's going fine.
