Friday, May 20, 2011

Less Pink Clouds

I love my dog, a red Texas Blue Lacy, but she has a very high energy level and sometimes I just want it all to stop.

She herds the poor cats, leaving them cowering under the bed in shrimpbowl's room. She stands at the top of the stairs looking out the front window and she barks at passing chimeras. Nasty threatening things, those chimeras, though they are supremely disadvantaged because they don't really exist. She bolts around the house jumping on the carefully-arranged human furniture, which turns out to not be for mere human use after all. They are launching-assist devices.

I think bad things about her. I want to toss her into a volcano and sacrifice her to the canine lava-goddess, eight-armed (or is it eight legged?) Collie, mistress of doggie hell-fire.

Additional thoughts:

If there were some enormous Bank of Dumb-Ass where stupidity was stored like bullion, you can be sure someone would try to rob it.

Far from now many thousands of years in the distant future some David Johanson type is going to dig up what by then will be an ancient container of Cool Whip and it will still be edible.

Some of the surgeons I get to work with specialize in thoracic and esophageal stuff. Tough cases from around the Valley get referred to them. Beware of bariatric surgery.

I am actually a big fan of bariatric surgery. When I see a morbidly obese person, I do not think "that person needs to seriously cut back on the Mars Bars." Instead I think "that person needs surgery." It's really the only way some people, those who are just plain genetically determined to be fat, can successfully get their weight down. A good bariatric surgeon can help people get their lives back from the hellish brink of morbid obesity, at least until they invent some sort of recombinant-DNA kit that you can buy at CostCo to make you into a Lance Armstrong or Calista Flockheart type.

The problem is that not all bariatric surgeons are the same.

This poor guy had some major fuck-ups in his original bariatric surgery and he ended up with segments of necrotic bowel that had to be removed. After that he couldn't eat at all, and his nutrition was maintained intravenously for months before he had recovered enough strength to undergo restorative procedures. A new Roux-en-Y. A gastroplasty. A distal esophagectomy. Lysis of multiple adhesions. Re-anastomoses of of the esophagus and gastric outlets and a double-anastomosis of duodenal and jejuenal sections. There was more in the surgical report but I cannot remember it all. It went on and on.

They unzipped him. His stapled surgical incision ran down from his sternum all the way to his groin. He had G-tube, a J-tube, a JP drain, a PICC line for TPN and fluids, a peripheral line for antibiotics, an epidural for pain control, and a patient-controlled anesthesia pump for additional pain medication. We ran four pumps (some were double pumps) into him continually.

This didn't have to happen.

If you ever need to consider bariatric surgery please contact me and I will assist you with your search for a surgeon who specializes in these procedures. I might be able to point you in the right direction. There some really really good ones out there. For example, I know these people and they are tres formidable. I've seen their work. They do good things. I know of this surgeon by reputation only, but it's good.

Nurses hear things that you probably don't. Dog whistles.

No comments: