Whattabooger

Somewhere in Eau Claire Wisconsin, a beautiful young professional woman (me) extends her delicate lady fingers out an open car window, lightly rubbing the middle and thumb together as if sifting through sand. Suddenly the wind picks up and carries her booger right back into the car.

She quickly looks at her husband to make sure he does not see. 

He is already laughing. 

The Unconventional Toilet Strikes Again

A couple of summers ago - I got invited to go on a boat trip with some good pals, their parents and friends - Zach was working in Vermont unfortunately, so I went solo.

It was as epic a day as you can imagine. We zoomed down the St. Croix River, between Minnesota and Wisconsin. The weather was perfect, the conversation dynamic, the drinks were flowing. There were other boats to wave at. I may or may not have mooned them. Anyway, it was SO FUN.

At some point on a boat, as a woman, the question will always be: "where do I pee?" and usually the answer is, "in the River", but I could NOT resist this strange contraption and decided to use it just because I was probably under the influence of alcohol. 

Bathroom?

WHAT?!?

Anyway, I did my thing and it was just as weird and fun as you would think. Then it came time to flush the toilet. 

Even though you can clearly see in these photos that there are instructions on how to do so - I didn't figure that out. At the time. 

I just kept pumping and pumping that pump thing. But nothing happened. 

And so I LIFTED THE LID to investigate, and then found a different lever to pull. Pulled that lever.

Got splashed. In the face. With my own pee. I screamed like I was in the middle of being murdered and the entire boat of people came running to find out what happened. 

"I have my own pee on my face".

And THEN jumped in the River. The end.

Disgus-Tea

The neighbor brought over a gallon jug of Lipton diet green tea citrus a while back because she knows my dad loves iced tea. 

He's been drinking it for several days. He's also been complaining about a funny taste, which I attributed to it being a different brand than he normally buys - also green tea tastes different than black tea. Whatever. I ignore most of what my dad says.

Today on his one millionth complaint about the taste, my mom suggested that maybe it's expired? I figured it was worth checking into, who knows how long neighbors keep their jugs of tea before realizing they're not going to drink them and then decide to generously give them away?

...And that is the story of the first time a Hexum wasted food by dumping perfectly good diet green tea citrus down the drain. 

Everybody REEL In

My mom has an old family fishing story starring my Auntie Cheryl.

My mom and Cheryl have five brothers and so anytime they went fishing with their dad there were boys around. And Grandpa Dick is a boy too. So one time Cheryl had to go pee and she refused to use the bucket to pee in and made her dad take her to shore.

"Everybody REEL IN, CHERYL has to go to the BATHROOM!!"

And that's our family quote for anytime you inconvenience others for your convenience.

But that's not the point of my story. 

The point of my story is that I went fishing with my dad and two of his friends the other night and I should have peed before we left the dock because I already had to go. But I didn't. So I suffered and fished for like three hours. Finally I realized I was going to have to pee in the boat and ask three men not to look.

But! We were in my dad's friend's boat! And I didn't even see it but there was a cabin under the deck! With a door that shuts! He let me go in there and pee into his little blue plastic fish rinsing bucket!

And you know how when you have to pee really really bad and so you pee for like 67 seconds and that 67 seconds feels like an eternity? It was one of those. I thought I was going to overflow the bucket - seriously. 

But I didn't. And then I took the walk of shame out of the cabin with my bucket of pee and very carefully and quickly dumped it over the edge and rinsed rinsed rinsed it a million times. I threw the bucket on the floor and resumed fishing.

...and nobody had to reel in.

But I had this to taunt me the rest of the night. The beating of the tell tale pee bucket.

It's lake water!!!! I swear!!!!

The Romper

I feel like the universe really wants me in a romper. They're everywhere. I gotta say, though, I was worried that the idea of it would be so much better than the reality. I'm 39 years old, and I'm not sure they're 'age appropriate'. I decided to go way out of my comfort zone and get one from ASOS. Out of my comfort zone? Am I crazy?! This thing is the most comfortable thing I have placed on my body in a really long time. And, it's cute! I texted the photo below to my boss with the caption: "I HOPE YOU LIKE ROMPERS BECAUSE I WILL BE WEARING THIS UNTIL SEPTEMBER 30TH." 

I call it my 2017 Summer Romper

Versatile!

On a recent trip to my parents' place, there wasn't much to decide in the way of packing:

But that's not the point of my story. The point is that when you go to your parents and basically spend the entire day Saturday and Sunday drinking alcohol (mostly to forget your mom has cancer AGAIN but really just because that's what you do every Saturday and Sunday) and you have all those bathroom breaks --- a romper becomes a somewhat complicated apparatus. I got it down though. I left the straps tied and just shimmied my arms up and out of it to go pee 8.6 million times per day. 

It was at 4am, though, when Rowdy woke me up to be let out of the house that I sleepily untied my romper (YES I SLEEP IN IT TOO) and used the toilet. When I went to retie it, the strap in the back was WET. 

It FELL IN THE TOILET. Determined not to let the romper-toilet-strap incident get me down, I rinsed it, did my best to get the bar soap involved, tied it up and went back to sleep. 

Later that morning, I needed to use the toilet urgently, but my dad was in there (13 people, one bathroom) and so I was forced to use the outhouse, except for the fact that I hadn't yet gotten to  item number clean out the outhouse on my chores list. I opened the door, frantic, only to find 432 spider webs and the world's most giant spider covering the outhouse seat hole. I swiped it with some toilet paper but had no time to clean it properly and so I disrompered and did my thing, naked and standing up. 

Of course I hadn't shut the outhouse door, one because it was too spidery in there and two because I never shut a bathroom door. I looked up at some point to see both my sister Kasey and my Mom waving to me from the kitchen window.

My Coat

We had been having some yo-yo weather in Minnesota and one day I grabbed a wool jacket to wear to work. Of course it warmed up mid-afternoon and so I forgot the jacket in the conference room (I had a very important business lady meeting there and I was running fashionably late so I didn't stop by my office prior to). 

The next day I asked the receptionist if anybody saw my jacket. Nope.

"Oh well, it will turn up."

Several days and maybe even a couple weeks went by. My friend Tara came into my office to tell me the story of how "somebody" had dropped a coat off in my other friend Alayet's cube. She was excited that somebody was giving her an article of clothing. She went on to tell Tara, though, that the coat had hairs on it and therefore was "dirty and disgusting" and "why would somebody give me this filthy coat?" Turns out somebody assumed since it was an XS that it was Alayet's (which is a compliment to me since she weighs about 87 pounds).

I told Tara that I forgot the jacket in the conference room and we laughed for 27 minutes.

I mean, "filthy"?

"Dirty"?

"Disgusting"?

Look how she drowns in it.

Pedicure?

My sisters texted to see if I wanted to get pedicures -- I had just gotten one so I declined, but sent them this picture to be hilarious -- with the caption -- "Nope. I'm good."

Kasey goes, "gorgeous, what color is that? Broken Robin's Egg?"

hahahahahahahahaHAAHAHAAAAA

Does Anybody Want to Explain This to Me?

 

Seriously, how does a person pee on the FRONT of their shoe? In the work bathroom?

 



 

Flooring and The Toilet Tarp

The bathroom used to be located on the north side of the house, but was relocated to the south side. Since the beginning it (one single toilet) has been tarped off -- in the beginning it was winter and so we had to keep the heat in -- remember there was no roof for some time and so only the basement was heated...and later for privacy.

We took to affectionately calling it the Toilet Tarp. It's the only place in the history of the universe and in my life where I gave myself permission to not wash my hands after using the toilet and then immediately eat a slice of pizza. Remodeling!

Here it is in its new location:

And here's the new flooring -- the old stuff didn't quite stretch all the way across the house, but I did want to salvage it if possible -- to save money and to channel my inner Nicole Curtis.

New front and side windows in the front office:

38

Today is the 38th anniversary of my birth. As is my tradition on this day every year, I ask my mom:

"What were you doing xx years ago today?"

And she always says something really cute, like "I had a date with an angel" or "drinking a beer" (she really did -- to induce labor). Usually this is an email exchange, but since she's been living with me for four months getting her cancer under control I just rolled over in bed this morning and asked her.

"Giving suck" she said.

EW! I don't want to think about the fact that she used to breast feed me. EW!

Anyway.

Somehow my coworkers found out the significance of today because they taped this note to my window:

Crap.

Is it Just Me, or Does This Booger Look Like a Little Beta Fish?

Chewing Gum

The resort where we stayed in Cancun had a fancy Italian restaurant where we ate most nights. After a long day of reading books and doing nothing on the beach, we'd all head up to our rooms, shower and meet back downstairs for a delicious meal and drinks. There were eleven of us, and so we had to be split up at two tables.

We wore our best dresses and drank wine and were very, very fancy.

Look how fancy!

After dinner the first night, I stood up to go and chat with the other table. We discussed what they ate and how good it was. An older man who worked at the restaurant came up to me and grabbed my arm and dragged me back to the table where I was sitting, to the spot where I was eating. He seemed very agitated when he said to me, "PLEASE DO NOT PUT YOUR GUM UNDER THE TABLE CLOTH." 

The staff were changing out the linens and sure enough, at my spot, under the table cloth was a piece of gum.

YOU GUYS. It was NOT MINE.

We were eating fancy! I would never put my gum under the tablecloth! It was seriously way up underneath, so whoever did it had to pull up three yards of fabric and shove it up under there, on the pad underneath. 

I said, "Sir, that's not mine."

He poked it and said, "FRESH."

I poked it. 

It was fresh. 

But you guys!!! It was NOT. MINE. I repeated myself. "Sir, I am telling you that gum is NOT MINE."

He was so disgusted with me and so finally I just shrugged my shoulders and walked away.

Does this look like somebody who just shoved GUM under her fancy tablecloth?

The story doesn't end here, unfortunately.

The next night, I was nervous to go back there, but I decided to get over myself and just do it. I sat down and out of the corner of my eye I noticed the man. Out of the corner of my other eye, I noticed one of my friends putting her gum on a little plate next to her dinner plate. I didn't have any time to warn her.

Here comes the waiter (not the same man, but he came straight from talking to the man). He handed her a paper napkin and said, "please put your gum in this paper napkin. And anyone else at this table *here he looked STRAIGHT AT ME* needs to put their gum in a paper napkin right now."

ENOUGH!

I threw my cloth napkin down on the table and half stood up to say to that poor innocent waiter, "OH FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!!! I DID NOT PUT MY GUM IN THE TABLECLOTH! YOU TELL THAT MAN I DIDN'T DO IT! AND WILL YOU PLEASE ALSO TELL HIM I AM 37 YEARS OLD!!!!!"

He looked really hurt and said, "yes, I will tell him". 

And then he came back later to take our order and I said, "I'll have the seared tuna. With extra gum."

And then the poor innocent waiter said, "please. I am on your side."

And then I really felt bad. 

But for Pete's sake, can you imagine being accused of a heinous crime? Twice? When you were 100% innocent of it? Now I know how Cameron Todd Willingham felt.

Peg Leg Pigeon

If you ever see a pigeon in a big city -- take a look at its' feet. Certainly in New Orleans, a great big giant percentage of the birds are missing a foot:

We figured it was because they get in fights with each other, during which they peck their opponents' feet off. Not too shabby a theory...Well here is an interesting article and I'm sorry about the swear words. I couldn't find a PG version. This person claims there are three reasons:

• Predators
• Human hair
• Standing in their own poop

Who the heck knows? It's kinda cute, don't you think?

Wouldn't it be even cuter if it had had a little eye patch on and a tiny parrot on its' shoulder?

Morning Run

When I first got to Seychelles, my body clock was so off that I was waking up at 4:30 in the morning. There was nothing to do but start my day. My Airbnb was across from the ocean of the east side of the island and so I was able to watch the sunrise every day. Sunrise is significantly more boring than sunset in my opinion. I can't explain why I think that; I can only say that I've never gotten bored watching the sun set, but I sure got bored waiting for it to rise. I just kept thinking that somehow my dad would be so proud if he knew I was up that early. But, just as a tree falling in the forest probably doesnt make a sound if nobody is there to hear it, me getting up early in Africa is of no significance to ol' Hal back in Minnesota.

 

"Papa, can you hear me?" (Yentl)

After sunrise, I would take off to a beach on the south of the island for a nice run. The tide is a little high in the mornings and so it was a fun obstacle course to jump over and duck under the trees on the beach.

 

 

One time I ducked, but not far enough because my face ran right into a sticky spider's web. It was gross of course, but I didn't freak out until a few minutes later when I saw this:

 

 

Maybe you can't tell but that spider is like AFRICA HUGE.

 

 

 

And then I would go for a little swing...

 

The sand was super soft and squishy, which made for all kinds of soreness in my calves the next day.

 

Look at this cute little lonely manta I saw from the beach:

 

 

The first day, I ended up at some rocks that would have had to be climbed over and through and wouldn't you know it but just when it was time to run over and through them a man who was collecting bottles and cans appeared and went in there and so I didn't feel safe. Instead I ran up to the road to go around, but I was barefoot and so ouch! I ran to a hotel entrance but they WOULDNT LET ME IN because it was private. And so I ended up running for about a mile on the narrow ouchie road for no reason. And then I wanted to climb through those rocks to show that dumb hotel who was boss but I was too scared of the man. And so I didn't. I went for a swim instead. A wonderful refreshing swim in the shade before the sun came out. After that it was only 9am and so I went back to my room for a shower and then out for breakfast and then was back to my room by 2pm.

 

And then I slept for 15 hours.

 

I did that two days in a row. Lived my whole day from 5am to 2pm and then slept until the next morning. It was so delicious.

 

 

Soul Glo, (An Appendectomy Aside)

I ended up in Urgent Care sometime after being released from the hospital and that's a whole other long forthcoming story (thanks for your patience).

Basically I had a very bad night of pain and my sister Kasey graciously took me in and sat with me for what turned out to be a five-hour ordeal. Most of that five hours was spent waiting for the lab results on a simple blood draw to confirm that my white blood cell count was no longer elevated. And most of that waiting was spent in the chair that you sit in while a nurse takes your blood pressure inside a room within the Urgent Care. Kasey took the extra chair near the door and we chit-chatted about this and that. Mostly how IRRITATING it is to go to Urgent Care and wait for five hours.

During this chit-chat I rested my head on the wall.

At some point I moved my head. 

But my hair was stuck.

To the wall.

I screamed and she unstuck it and we looked to see what was so sticky. Well, it was the collective greasy-head spot of all the previous patients. Obviously.

Well, would you have believed me if I hadn't taken a photo?

So, here we have two Hexum girls, alone in a Doctor's Office with a grease spot on the wall, right where one of their heads were resting just moments earlier.

Here's what happens next. And you can apply this to basically any uncomfortable situation a Hexum girl might find herself in. It's a pretty standard, no-deviations formula:

1) Freak Out

2) Breathe Lamaze-style

3) Dance quickly, back and forth, from one foot to the other, arms bent at elbows, palms pulsing down toward the floor

4) Continue breathing Lamaze-style. (Never stop breathing Lamaze-style)

5) Take a photo

6) Fix the problem, so that nobody thinks you did it. Do this QUICKLY so nobody catches you doing it

7) Freak Out again

8) Breathe, Lamaze-style

9) Laugh hysterically

10) Start crying from laughing so hard

11) Laugh more because she's crying too

12) Cross legs to prevent pee from coming out

13) Laugh at other Hexum girl doing same

14) Pee a little

15) Grab crotch with one hand to stop the pee and wave opposite hand in front of face

16) Say maniacally, "I PEED A LITTLE!"

17) Laugh at her for saying "ME TOO!"

18) Repeat steps 8-16 until somebody walks in the room

The Evolution of an Appendectomy, Vol. 9

So I lay in the hospital, in and out of sleep for a day-and-a-half while nurses took care of my every need. Summer brought movies and I slept through them and there was a TV but I could barely hear it plus I was so SLEEPY.

I got to have broth (and fell asleep while eating it) and then they gave me a menu and I could pick whatever I wanted! I wanted macaroni and cheese. I mean there were so many options, it felt very luxurious. In retrospect I'm sure that macaroni and cheese was probably $475 but it was free at the time and that was pretty cool.

They kept telling me to WALK WALK WALK because you gotta get your poop churning so you can leave the hospital. I mentioned earlier that they pumped me up with CO2 and that's really uncomfortable plus my guts had just been all cut up and so I was working really hard on farting-slash-pooping. The more gas I could get out of there, the less pain and more relief I would feel. It became my "job" to fart. So they taught me how to roll to my side and then get out of bed without using any stomach muscles and a nice MA called Pemba or Phema was assigned to take me for a walk but I was scared and so I held his hand and we chooched* all around the corridors of the hospital and it was SO romantic to be holding hands with a man, even though he was quite elderly. It's so rare for me to get to hold hands and I loved it! I was highly embarrassed though when Pemba or Phema put me back into bed and I think he saw my naked butt.

I saw this one jerk and he was choochin' so fast all by himself and I was like, "you think you're SO COOL without your helper and your IV stand" and he was like, "don't worry, you'll get there" (which was a pretty nice thing for him to say, I gotta admit) and he was right! Eventually, I didn't need my helper and then I didn't need my IV stand and then it was me choochin' so fast all by myself.

So. Farting.

One time, the nurse was in my room and I farted really loudly for like 17 seconds. We held eye contact the entire time, me embarrassed but excited, and she a cheerleader looking at me like "keep going! you're amazing!" and I did keep going and then I felt like I had to go number 2 RIGHT NOW and so I scooched to the the edge of the bed and rolled onto one side and slowly got up. I started to walk to the bathroom and looked back to make sure my tubes were all in order and I saw that I had pooped a streak from the center to the edge of the bed.

I wanted to DIE. 

The nurse was still in my room! "I pooped the bed", I told her from behind the bathroom door, humiliated.

"IT'S ALREADY GONE. DON'T BE EMBARRASSED."

"OK. thanks. I'm also going to need a new gown."

And that is why nurses are just the nicest people in the entire world. 

Miyo, who REFUSED to get in bed with me even though I begged and begged. She preferred to sleep on the RADIATOR than cuddle with me. Little turd.

These two, I did not beg.

*chooch is a Shash-term, which means walk, basically. Go for a chooch. Just choochin', etc.

The Evolution of an Appendectomy, Volume 6

...So maybe I did, and maybe I did not shove a Vicodin pill up my butt somewhere near the border of Wisconsin and Minnesota -- and maybe my butt did and maybe it did not basically grab that Vicodin pill out of my trembling hand and suck it up into oblivion. Maybe I was and maybe I wasn't fascinated by how well my body seemed to accept and in fact welcome it. I'll never tell. Because I'm a lady. Who reveals nothing.

What I will tell you is that Beata drove like a madwoman from Tiny Town Wisconsin to Minneapolis on a straight shot up the I-94 and we made it there in no time. I slept for most of it. My appendix did not burst, thanks goodness and when we peeled into the ER at Abbott Hospital they were primed and ready for us. All credit to the nice folks at the Tiny Town ER, who called ahead and let Abbott know all the details and that I was on my way.

I was admitted immediately into room 12, I believe, but how can one be sure of such minute details when one is under the influence of a Vicodin one may or may not have shoved up their butt?

Everybody at Abbott was great. They agreed with my decision to come back to Minneapolis and almost everybody I spoke with wondered why a relatively young Wisconsin surgeon "didn't do laparoscopic" "appies". The fact that they called it an "appy" made me feel at ease almost immediately. If you know me well you know I like abbreves and especially ones that end in a "y" sound. Also you don't give a pet name to a surgery you're not performing on a daily basis. At least I don't think you do. 

From here things moved pretty quickly and I think basically I just had to sign a bunch of stuff and then my sister Kasey and niece Miyo arrived and Summer's brother Justin and his wife Kassie got there and we all sat around joking while I tried not to think about what was going to happen to me.

One time my gown feel completely off when I tried to get up from my bed to go pee, and the door was open to the whole ER:

OOH, and I always love it when they ask me if I'm married! Rita, the Nurse Anesthesiologist seemed very surprised that nobody loves me and then when I asked her to "find me a good one" she confessed that there weren't that many single people around Abbott. Which is bull crap because Dr. Mumm was pretty adorable and I might have even told him so. I can't remember.

The Evolution of an Appendectomy, Volume 5

Where were we?

Yah. Escaping the confusing Emergency Room in Tiny Town Wisconsin and speeding back to Minneapolis without hitting a deer.

I was worried about the three-hour trip. When my morphine ran out a few times in the ER, it was painful. Bad. So I asked the nurse to shoot me up the minute before we left and asked what I should do if I started to feel pain in the car.

"Well, you're not allowed to eat or drink anything before surgery, so I can give you a Vicodin...but..."

"But what?"

"You can't eat or drink anything."

"So how am I gonna?...Where does it...?"

Her face got serious. She handed me a glove, the pill and some lubricant.

"...OH."

Never forget. 

"For all the good it did me, I coulda shoved it up my hind-end." -Hal

The Evolution of an Appendectomy, Volume 4

I know this appendectomy story has gotten quite long, but I'm not even sorry. Because. So, where were we?

Yah. Surgery. 

The Wisconsin nurses asked me if I had ever had surgery before, and I said, under heavy doses of narcotics, "I think I'm fully intact other than my wisdom teeth."

After the results of the CT scan were clear, and it was obvious that I needed to have an appendectomy, I met with Dr. Birkenstocks again (while he literally sat on the floor of my hospital room. I have video, but that would be mean) to express my concerns about being in the "middle of nowhere" and asked my questions about this scary surgery. The following is our conversation, loosely based on the facts, as remembered by someone who was on morphine at the time. 

"I'm on a road trip. Can I still go on the road trip?"

No.

"OH, so is there any way that I could go back to Minneapolis and have the surgery at Abbott Northwestern Hospital? It's like a mile from my house."

No. Look, whatever happened to you in the last 24 hours to cause this attack, well it worked fast and the next thing to happen is your appendix is gonna burst. We need to get it out of there. It's really a miracle that it hasn't burst already. 

"OH. OK. So, how long is the surgery?"

45 minutes.

"How long will the recovery be?"

You'll be released probably tomorrow, and you'll need to rest, but you'll be back to normal activities in about two weeks.

"How big will the scar be?"

It will be tiny. They'll go in with a small camera to do an exploratory review of the situation. If everything is as we expect, they will then remove the appendix. 

"OH. OK. So my friends won't need to get a hotel room then...in this town, right? We can all stay here tonight and we'll most likely be on our way tomorrow?"

Yes. If things go well you'll be out of here tomorrow. 

"Can they sort of do the scar, like, below my bikini line? I mean, I don't want to be a Princess, but, you know, I like to whip out my chubby stomach at parties to be like funny and it's kind of my thing...it's this thing I do...I mean I don't really want a scar ruining my schtick."

Yes. There will be three small holes and whatever we can get under the bikini line, we'll get under the bikini line. Look, the surgeon will be here soon. You can ask him all of these questions when he gets here. We'll get a printout of the CT scan and he will review it with you, and show you exactly what's going on, and where the incisions will be and, I'll warn you: He'll probably be a little grumpy from having to wake up at 2:00 in the morning, but he's the best one to answer all of your surgery questions. 

And then Summer and Beata and I all fell asleep and waited for the surgeon and his staff to get to the hospital. Or, should I say, Beata and I fell asleep:

And then the surgeon and his team got there and it was time for surgery! I could see five or six people standing outside my room all in blue and "scrubbed up" and I started getting nervous. The Nurse Anesthetist came in and asked me a few questions and I asked him a few questions and then I signed something. Then my surgeon and his PA came in the room and asked if I had any questions for him. I was a good participator and asked him, gosh, you know I just remembered that I have a ridiculous [Dad: you might want to sit down for this part] ladybug tattoo that I got 15 years ago [It's true. I have a tattoo. I've successfully hidden it from you since 1999 when I got in in San Francisco when I was stupid and 22-years-old. Don't be mad. I love you. And you didn't come to any of my student-teacher conferences or marathons or my surgery] and the ladybug would look really dumb if they sliced it open, could they maybe avoid it during surgery? He asked me to show it to him and looked very confused when he saw that it is sort of near my hip bone. He said his incision would be nowhere near it. And then I got confused. More conversation:

"So, where exactly where will you put the three small incisions? I was told you could try to get most of them below the bikini line?"

Who told you that? I don't do laparoscopic surgeries. I do open surgeries.

"WHAT?! HUH? Everybody since I got here told me it was laparoscopic. Don't they always do appendectomies laparoscopically? Um...OK...well then can you make the incision below my bikini line at least?"

*laughs, condescendingly* Your appendix isn't below your bikini line.

"Well then where will the scar be?"

*laughs* It will be about 5 inches long, from here to here *draws imaginary 10-inch diagonal line from just under my rib to well below my belly button*. How does this feel? *jabs my appendix HARD several times* 

"OW! It hurts really bad! Oh man, that's terrible news -- I really don't want a big scar like that...can you show me the CT scan now please? I'm so curious about exactly what's going on here and I need a second to think about this scar."

*laughs, incredulously* I don't read CT scans. The radiologist reads CT scans. 

"I was told you were going to review it with me before my surgery."

*laughs, then huffs* Who told you that?!?

"The ER Doctor! Look, I'm getting the impression that you feel like I'm asking you a bunch of stupid questions, and I can see that we got off on the wrong foot here, but please understand I'm just repeating to you what was told to me. I was told that it was a 45-minute laparoscopic surgery, that I would probably be released tomorrow, if all goes well, and that I will recover pretty quickly but just be unable to do any physical activity for about two weeks." 

*now he's really mad* The surgery is three hours. You will be in this hospital for no less than three days. You can't do any physical activity for six weeks.

"Whoa. OK. My friends would have to get a hotel room here. Everything you're saying is so different from everything I was told. Wait, I can't ride my bike for six weeks?! I'm starting to feel really uncomfortable. I'm so sorry -- I'm just feeling like I would much rather go back to Minneapolis to have this surgery. There's a hospital about a mile from my house. Is there ANY way that I can safely get back to Minneapolis to have this surgery?"

*to his credit, he softened here* Kady, I want you to be comfortable. You don't seem comfortable. If you want to go back to Minneapolis, you should go back to Minneapolis.

"So are you sure my appendix won't burst in the three hours it takes to get back to Abbott? They started me on one bag of an antibiotic to prep for surgery. They said there were two bags. Maybe we could finish the second bag, and then you could give me another shot of morphine right before we leave to last me the car ride and are you sure my appendix won't burst?"

Of course there are no guarantees, but the way I see it, your biggest risk on the drive home would be a speeding ticket. And don't hit a deer.

OK. Can you give my friends and me just a minute to deliberate?

And then he left. Summer and Beata looked at me and I think by now I had tears in my eyes. I said, "will you guys please take me to Abbott? I don't want you to be scared, and I know I'm putting you in a terrible position, because I know you don't want my appendix to burst in your car, but I just think I really wanna go to Abbott" and they were like YES, OBVIOUSLY WE GO TO ABBOTT (I love them). And then it was basically just like in that scene at the end of the movie Big Fish (the first 1 minute and 35 seconds from the clip below), and they got me outta that place!! (Not before asking the nice people to call ahead to Abbott and explain the situation and tell them that we were on our way. And then the Wisconsin hospital people asked us how to spell "Abbott").

And then Dr. Birkenstocks came back in the room, and apologized profusely for the misunderstanding. I said, "listen man, NO HARD FEELINGS. I am so happy with my treatment here. Everybody has been really great. But I'm vain and I don't want a scar, and I wand the shorter recovery of a laparoscopic surgery and would feel so much better to do that recovery closer to home. We don't even know the NAME of this town! Where are we? And these two, they can sleep in their own beds. And please tell those ten people out there I AM SO SORRY that they had to get out of bed and drive all the way here and now I'm not having my surgery here."

And then they packed up their smorgasbord picnic and helped me escape!

First 1:35 of this clip = Summer and Beata busting me out of middle-of-nowhere Wisconsin hospital:

Appendectomy Aside...

Maybe you did and maybe you didn't notice the weird sink in a previous post about my Appendectomy...

This weird sink:

I am SO proud of myself for figuring out how to get those arrows on there.

We found it very strange and "middle-of-nowhere-Wisconsin"(?) that there was this extra weird sink and so we tried to figure out its' purpose. Upon closer inspection, we found out there was totally a poop-streak in it.

Now...how?...I mean, it's not a place you can sit down for a nice poop, and so the obvious conclusion is that this is the sink where the nurse empties the bedpan, right? So it's like a vicarious toilet. Doesn't that seem like the only logical explanation? And so, then logically, wouldn't it make sense, also, that the SAME NURSE would have absolutely noticed the poop streak and given it an extra flush? 

Is it just me? Or is that what should have happened? 

Exhibit A

This was an obvious photo to stage. Beata was so scared. HA!

"Beata! Relax. You're not going to get poop on you! Now don't laugh."