Tuesday, April 1, 2025
Time: 4:25 PM
Song: Dirty Life and Times
Artist: Warren Zevon
Mode of Consumption: Listening to MP3s on the way home from Iowa City.
Link to song: https://open.spotify.com/track/1BVkQFYTWncoTjOiGLtqnR?si=0156572d0a524a2e
On July 3, 2019, we traveled to Iowa City early in the morning. I didn’t eat a bite, only had a few sips of water. By mid-morning I was adorned in a flimsy paper gown, led down a hallway, hoping my rear end wasn’t sticking out, and into a surgical room.
I was directed to a bed, told to lay down, and a herd of people started hooking me to machines and checking my vitals.
“Ok, we’re going to give you something to relax,” a man said. Those were the last words I remember. I woke late in the afternoon in a different room with a female nurse’s face above me.
“Have they started yet?” I asked.
Of course, it was all over. I had been contorted into a pose described as “inverted beach chair position” in the documentation I’d receive later, my skin was sliced open at the base of my neck, my vocal chords were moved, and one-half of my thyroid was removed.
A few tests, a single night stay in the hospital, and I was on my way back to normal.
Now, we travel to Iowa City once a year, and they do an ultrasound, and they read tests, and so far, everything has been fine.
We made that trip today. The results of the ultrasound weren’t ready when we met with the surgeon, and she ordered some blood work, so over the next few days we’ll find out if I am still firing on all cylinders without any worrying excesses growing on my remaining half a thyroid.
We also went to the mall, ate a couple slices of pizza, and wandered around a Barnes & Noble. Tomorrow, it’s back to work.
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