UPPP Journal – 3 Hours Before Surgery

It’s 6:04 AM on the day of my surgery. I’m to report to Long Beach Memorial Medical Center at 8:30 AM for my UPPP (Uvulopalatopharyngoplasty) and Septoplasty. I considered getting only the UPPP done, as one mutilating, invasive surgery per day is usually my limit, but when they told me I could ‘super size’ the order to include the Septoplasty, well. . .I just couldn’t resist!

Yesterday I had to go to the hospital to do all the administrative paperwork, get some blood drawn, and a chest x-ray. The x-ray tech introduced himself, “Hi, I’m Mike, and I’ll be your x-ray technician,” and then asked “Do you know why you are getting a chest x-ray today?” This threw me for a loop. I mean, I assumed this type of info would be on that chart neatly tucked under his arm. But I decided to play along, “Well, I’m going in for throat surgery tomorrow, and I suppose during the procedure if the doctor sees anything deeper down my throat that needs attention, he could use the chest x-ray as a map.” Mike didn’t turn back toward me. He shut the door behind me and asked me to take off my shirt. Now ordinarily, when another man asks me to take off my shirt, it’s after a couple of drinks and maybe some playful eye-batting, but Mike was all business. A few seconds later and it was all over. . .the x-ray, that is. -Jeeeesh.

I was instructed to not eat or drink anything after midnight, and I realized immediately that the poor folks at the Taco Bell all-night drive-thru window may have to clock out and go home early. Phil and Claudette, if you’re reading this, I’ll be back as soon as I can, so keep the Chalupas hot! And that brings up another depressing thought. The lovely dinner that Ema made for me last night was my ‘last supper’ for at least two weeks. I suppose eating less will be a good thing, but eating far less is going to be a shock to my system. You see, my side dishes are bigger than most peoples’ main courses. It’s not unusual for me to have lasagna with a side of tostada grande.

Well, I better go and not drink or eat anything now. I’ll check in tomorrow with the first of several post-surgery updates. Thanks for your time, your patience, and your well-wishes. - Tom

I’m Afraid I Might Have Extreme Hypochondria

I watched a segment on ABC’s Good Morning America on Saturday about this newly-coined condition called Extreme Hypochondria where the sum of your imagined illnesses creates a depressed, and anxious mental state from which the only escape seems to be intensive psychotherapy. Well sign me up! The laundry list of imagined illnesses read off by the host didn’t come close to the number of unconfirmed conditions I’ve self-diagnosed in the past year. Heck – I’ve even had to make up some names for diseases that our esteemed medical community has yet to discover. Like Acute Inflamatory Clamatogenisis – The highly disruptive intestinal disorder caused by ingesting four liters of Clamato in one hour on a bet. And Redundant Hyper-Ocular Amelioration – The absent-minded insertion of a duplicate pair of contact lenses on top of the ones already in your eyes.

What makes all of this so scary is that I’d just as soon sweep the notion of Extreme Hypochondria under the rug, forget about it for now, and go on about my normal life. After all, I’m going into surgery this coming Friday! I certainly don’t need yet another health-related issue to keep me awake at night. However, I can’t help but think of the potential damage I could be doing by ignoring such a catastrophic disorder! Maybe I should forgo my UPPP and Septoplasty, and address this instead. Look, if Extreme Hypochondria is as damaging as I’m building it up to be, then I may want to seek treatment immediately, and risk suffering from Post-Operative Pathological Regret Syndrome - The inevitable realization that you’ve mistakenly chosen your least-serious disorder to treat. Actually, I’ve never suffered from that one. But now I'm worried I might.

Uvulopalatopharyngoplasty and Septoplasty Scheduled!

Folks if all goes as planned, I’ll be going under the laser-guided, serrated scalpel on Friday March 2^nd. Cards and flowers can be sent to me c/o Forest Lawn Memorial Park - Cypress California.

Now look – Ema tells me I have a tendency to catastrophize a bit, but you all know that she’s a delusional paranoid, so I guess both of us can’t be correct. While you’re digesting that, chomp on this - There's no way I'm going through this procedure without dragging every one of our fine listeners down with me, so one of us will be keeping y’all informed via this here Unblog.

So turn on, tune in, and drop out. . . it's what I'll be doing in just over three weeks. That, and contemplating the words of another brave American who faced tremendous odds with the courage of a thousand generals - Lance Armstrong: "Pain is temporary. It may last a minute, or an hour, or a day, or a year, but eventually it will subside and something else will take its place. If I quit, however, it lasts forever.”