That pretty much describes me right now. I had a bit of surgery yesterday to remove several cysts and I'm not allowed to drive while taking the painkillers I was prescribed. So today I'm hanging out on the folded out couch-bed, eating antibiotics (one of which feels like it is semi-lodged in my throat regardless of how much water I drink) and tylenol with codeine while watching reruns of How I Met Your Mother. Fun times!
I've had similar cysts removed before (they're tricky little recurring bastards), which in the past meant going to the doctor's office for no more than thirty minutes, getting a teeny-tiny injection of local anesthesia, having it cut out and stitched up, then driving away when it was over with. That was before I was seen by military doctors. Imagine my surprise when I was told that to remove them this time, I had to go to the hospital, put on one of those awful open back gowns, get all hooked up to IVs and heart monitors, get sedated and ride a gurney into the OR. This little production took around six hours. I just don't understand why they have to make everything so dang complicated!
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