It is official. I am a dad. My broken-rock “son” was born into this world in the early morning hours of October 5, 2012. It was a routine procedure, choreographed to perfection by my cute-as-a-button (and getting famous) pee doctor. I expected no less from her.
When I finally woke up I felt a bit of pain. My sweet, older nurse gave me morphine. Lots of it. We bonded rather quickly, the the nurse and I (the morphine and I also bonded rather quickly – my silent, soothing friend). When it was injected I felt I was slowly flying, a little higher, a little higher, a little higher, and… cruise. I’d drift off to sleep and have – quite possibly – the most entertaining dreams I’ve had in a year or so. I’d wake up hurting, only to have my nurse, who was now wrapped around my little finger, there at my side, holding a syringe full of my silent friend. This went on for about a day, and I was released into the wild.
My mother, the best on Earth, was with me the whole time. She survived the night in the loudest chair I’ve ever heard in my life. I was high as a fucking kite and it could still wake me up with every move tiny move she made. I’m surprised she made it until the morning. She was happy to get out of the hospital… happier than me, even. She slept well the night of my release.
Some pretty special people visited me right after I “came to” and was put back into my room. I awoke to a big, green, fuzzy monkey and a kiss on my massive forehead. Not a bad way to wake up. Everyone was pleased to know that my penis was okay (the entire Chuck Norris-style extraction was done through my best little guy). The gigantic, spike-riddled rock-baby was too large in its original form to be pulled through my urethra, so it had to be broken up inside my body and removed in manageable “chunks.” Nice. Overall, the “baby” is pretty impressive. It was a little over half an inch long and about a quarter of an inch thick. I’m glad I never actually passed it. His name is Uri. Fitting.
Many people sent me messages and called my phone. I loved each and every call and/or comment. I have a lot of great people in my life and I appreciate each and every one of them. Surgery is not always fun, but sometimes it is needed and often, inevitable. What matters is having people who care about you and want you to come out on the other side. Without them, life wouldn’t be very much fun anyway.
I feel better.