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... gone (Pt. 2)

As reported in Pt. 1, my mate was so nice as to drive me over. The surgeon was still rather pissed. Guess partly cause the implants hadn't worked out like we all would have wanted, but probably also cause I kept insisting he should've considered more and sooner that the whole thing hadn't been like his other zillon cases from the very beginning, and that I'd expect him to REALLY listen when I'd e.g. say it'd still hurt or that'd be blood and no desinfectant dripping from under my bandages.

So when he was taking them out and I asked him to take some more photos, he just refused, and when I asked again he started getting agitated, raving on like 'Now you're really making me angry', while on the display I could see my own pulserate climbing up to 126. Which was when the anaestesist intervened that maybe we'd better discuss that after.

Actually didn't feel like at all, cause after the show obviously'd be too late for some shots. Not to mention that if I wanna have some bloody photos taken, it's just my f**king right to have them as soon as the surgeon or somebody else can spare a hand. But seeing his point, just shut up, closed my eyes for a while and concentrated on breathing steadily, while the surgeon continued literally ripping the implants out and then stitching me up all over again. Now I know I'm probably still traumatised after once being abused as a freebie human guinea pig by another guy in white rsp. green while being strapped to a surgery table, getting just conveniently knocked out by a healthy intravenal dose of Rohypnol when protesting against it. (Ok, that's another story. Though if I ever was to really punch somebody, this guy'd still be my first choice, hoping to break his f**king nose or worse, giving him a taste of his own medicine for a change. Also don't think it's a coincidence this just repeatedly started coming back to my mind lately while before hadn't thought about it too much for quite a while.)

Also know I can be quite a stubborn bastard. Not to mention having quite a temper (which is why I'm dead serious about being determined to NEVER really lose grip on it's leash EVER). Both going down as many generations as I can oversee family history. Stubborn of stubborn and irascible as beep. Which is why I feel I'll better stay conscious of both as well as I can ALWAYS.

And I even have to admit that I'm not always right, sometimes misunderstanding things and even making plain mistakes. Like e.g. taking aspirine against my headaches without explicitly consulting him first but just assuming this would be ok after surgery since it was always mentioned in one breath with vitamin E which I had inquired about and also wasn't explicitely listened as a don't for after, and that this probably didn't actually help with the post-surgery bleedings.

But having said this, still stand by the rest and will not back down from it, no way.

Remarkably this time never lost consciousness, maybe cause as explained was quite steaming a bit myself which might've prevented my bloodpressure from dropping. Still the whole thing once again had lasted rather like a full hour (as I'd guessed and told my mate) instead of the 20 minutes he first predicted.

Also had asked me to lay off the Tee before start. Though they were giving me some coagulation agent by the drip, again had donated about another pint of the red stuff to surgery table, towels and floor. So this time he also fixed me two vacuum style drainages with transparent hoses and hipflasks for the juice (though only one of them actually working on underpressure), kinda resembling stylish blood-ipods, even more cause the hoses were coming out from under the bandages just below my ears. Though they looked pretty weird, just loved them, cause as long as I got them, never had one of these bloody headaches again.

Cause of the blood-loss and my generally critical condition, kept me on the surgery table after for almost 2 more hours, which is always pretty boring, not to mention that lying on my back at the moment isn't really a treat. So was glad that the table actually is more like an adjustable chair, so when the assistant came looking after me, could ask her to move me more into a sitting position and to hand me my rucksack. Called my mate and my relatives quickly, drank a pint of water the assistant brought me and read some in the comic tradepaperback I had in the ruck just for this purpose.

When the surgeon came checking, was pleased the now empty cavities weren't swollen anymore in the meantime, so said I needn't go to hospital, but could go home. Told me to lay low, though.

Actually felt fine, contrary to before the surgery, also almost pain-free, even despite I got only little local anaestetic which in the meantime as he said should've worn off completely. So after me and my mate explaining him once again that I'd expect he'd consider more that unfortunately my body doesn't exactly react like probably alla the other patients he was used to, and that he should better listen when I'd say it'd still bleed or hurt etc., was joking I'd rather feel like going out instead of staying home. 'Am afraid for once I was lying a bit ...
... when saying I'd stay at home.'
PigBrother Live Show, KuZeB 24.5.06
Ok, didn't really feel like headbanging and throwing myself around for 8 hours plus the other assorted more or less healthy things I'm usually up to at parties. Nonetheless, when saying 'No, of course not' in reply to his question if I really intended going out and about, still am afraid I was lying a bit for once. Cause going out was exactly what I did. Not to party tough, but doing another show in a town some klicks outside of Zurich.

Went really cool and sure beat boring myself to death at home once again. Just love this venue called KuZeB in Bremgarten. Audience was lively and really nice'n'lovely, too. Even didn't smoke at all during the whole 90+ minutes as I'd stipulated because I definitely couldn't afford to cough just once while talking.

Was the first show I ever did sitting on a chair, zombie-style all the time except for two or three introductionary sentences, and also not talking REALLY LOUD even once inbetween (thanx to the mixer for turning up the mic gain promptly, by the way). Not to mention that I was probably about the only completely sober person around.

Though I anyway was moving like an ultra slow-motion zombie the whole evening, letting my mate and the others do literally alla the dragging and setting up stuff etc. (ok, 'cept like plugging in the mouse, starting up the 'puter and the like), felt pretty ok. Even ate a whole plate of the food they served upstairs before the show, though I'd just finished my own food on the way out and first figured I'd only eat half of it. 'Plastic surgery is lots of fun ...
... you better believe!'
Really hard part came after the show. Headliner of the evening was this impressive french band called ETHNOPAIRE, doing their very own brew of teknopunk with 2 guitars and keybords, but no vocals, plus another guy doing visuals. Really kicked ass like no band I've seen in more that two months. Just perfect to dance and go wild, literally running amok as long as it'd've lasted.

But all we did was hanging out upstairs a bit longer, talking to some people (not forgetting to take my antibiotics inbetween of course), feeling the floor vibrating from the music below, and then heading for the rear exit, without even going down to just have a glance (some things you better just don't start at all ...). By the way just another sacrifice by my mate as well while going through all of this. Thx, I O U, and bigtime.

Back home, took a painkiller (first one today) just to make sure, bedded the blood-ipods beside me under the blanket, and for the first time after being back from Berlin and the UK and despite a temperature of 38.3°, slept like a log.
Posted by Matt at 8:36 pm