Last time, I left off just as I was about to go to the hospital for what was my first surgical experience. The alarm woke us up that morning. 5 am. The surgery was scheduled for 8 but I had to be there at 6 to prep for everything. Up until that morning, I wanted nothing more than to get this show on road. It was miserable, sitting around all day with a bare, broken leg, waiting and wondering when the healing would start. That morning, however, I was feeling exactly the opposite. I wanted to go back to sleep, wake up at noon and watch Californication with Courtney, eat sandwiches and smoke 'til our hearts content. Delay was no option, however. The procedure had been planned and now was the time to begin the slow process of rehabilitation.
The day got off to an ominous start when we got into the car. We had been borrowing my friend Quat's Nissan, and must have left his XM radio on, because when Courtney turned the keys, nothing happened. Initially, we panicked. Not only had I broken my own leg, I had now broken my friend's car. The Nissan needed to take a back seat, however, because we had to get to hospital as fast as possible. I quick cab ride (and 10 unnecessarily spent dollars) later, Courtney and I found ourselves at the Lancaster General Hospital. Now, this place was a fucking hotel, I kid you not. The entrance, the lobby, the elevators all gave off the feeling of a converted 5-star Marriot. It was comforting, to be honest, because the hospi-tel was located in a pretty shitty neighborhood, and I wasn't about to gamble my leg on some back-alley surgeon.
After he paperwork was done, I was ushered into a typical, white wall hospital room and told to de-robe. It was cold as an ice rink in there, especially with a paper-thin hospital gown on, and I sat, watching the clock on the wall inch closer to 8. I was fitted for an IV (pretty painful) and had my leg shaved (pretty awkward), but I was grateful to be moving along, and so temporary discomfort was a necessary evil. Soon, I thought, I will be knocked out cold, unable to see or feel the cutting scalpel carving up my leg. Courtney and I watched some Law and Order on the TV, and just before the case's big break, I was ushered out of the room to go fix mine. The surgery room was pretty sweet. I was mad woozy and a little giggly from the drugs, and the multitude of people in there made the whole thing seem like a joke. Before I knew it, however, I was out for good, and the whole surgical experience faded into the unconscious, like a dream I can't remember.
The hospital overnight had its ups and downs. I got very sick from the morphine, couldn't eat much, and had to piss into a plastic "urinal" every 10 minutes. I also got to watch newly released movies for free, the Penguins - Caps Game 7 (which turned out to be a boring blow out), and was waited on hand and foot. I couldn't sleep for more than an hour at the time, and was relieved as all hell when the time came to leave. I spent the next couple days in the hotel with my mother and my girlfriend, and thank god Courtney was there. Not only is she super awesome and the best nurse ever, but also because bathing was a bitch, and it would have been awkward as all hell to have my mother help me clean myself for graduation.
Finally, the final day of college came. I was super fucking excited, dressed up nicely and propped in my rented wheelchair. The whole cripple thing actually worked out to my advantage on this day, because everybody was paying me attention. Had I been healthy, I would have been another average student, lost in the crowd of kids getting the same degree. As it was, I was the center of attention. Parents pitied me, teachers stopped to see how I was doing, and the whole procession was reconfigured to make space for my new ride.
When the time came to wheel me up on stage, my dad did the honors. Laughter and applause filled the air as I took my degree from the school's president (who I think is a total dick), and we followed the line of handshakes until we reached the graduation speaker, and 5-star General, Colin Powell. Now let me tell you, this guy is the man. His speech was awesome, hilariously self-deprecating and simultaneously self-aggrandizing. He didn't get stuck on the cliche subjects, made the whole crowd laugh and agreed to shake the hand of every graduating student. As we approached, he smiled and said, "Congratulations, son. You know, I just got out of one of those things" referring to my wheelchair. I did my best to stand up, clumsily shake his hand and said, "thank you, sir". For a split second moment and a three word response, that was a pretty intense experience for me. I was able to shake the hand of a decorated American general, a former secretary of state. As I thanked him, I realized I was not just politely receiving his congratulations, but instead thanking him for all that he had done for me. In that moment, I put aside all political skepticism and understood that this man was a hard-working hero who rose from poverty to achieve his dreams. The man embodied the American dream, and it was an honor to shake his hand.
The rest of the ceremony went off without much fuss. After tossing our hats in the air, I was wheeled down to the football field for the after party, said farewell to some choice professors and took pictures with my best friends. The medicine was making me tired, and so my dad and I hurried through what was necessary and made for the exit. The whole experience faded into memory as I sat in the back of the car. The 5 hour trip home was extremely uncomfortable, but I knew that it was only a matter of time before I would be stuck on the couch for the next 6 weeks. Besides, I had done it. I had graduated from that shit hole and would never have to go back. That thought alone was enough to help through.
Thanks for checking out chapter two. I hope you enjoy my writing, please come back and check out more. Next time, I'll tackle physical therapy and the drudgery of doing jack shit all day. Until then, I leave with another haiku, this one's about how lame partying with your parents can be...
My mom is a hawk
Won't let me drink on pills so
My dad snuck me beer.
