Surgery Day & The Aftermath

I would not really call that ten-minute process surgery, but I have no better term to use. I didn’t tell a lot of people about this before it happened because I hate the associated drama (I made a post on WordPress, though, but I know most of my friends won’t see it if I don’t share it on Facebook. . . and I didn’t!). But now that everything is done; I can share with everyone.

I tried to keep track of everything in my notepad to post it later, but I failed. I did write some notes, but I remember the rest.

Saturday, April 14th, 2012


“I woke up about 30 minutes ago. The last time I ate was at 02:30, as I need to spend 6 hours without eating before surgery; doctor’s orders. I am currently supposed to get dressed. I was not afraid, but my parents’ increasing-yet-unspoken anxiety about general anesthesia is giving me a stomachache.”


“My mum does laundry too much. . . and they should totally have WordPress in the afterlife.”

I spent a lot of time in the car, listening to music and whatnot. It felt weird, because I was supposed to be worried, but I really wasn’t.


“We arrived, and they made me wait.”

There was nothing interesting in the waiting room that time, and I really regretted not having brought Dan Brown’s The DaVinci Code with me.


“They sent us to a private room, and gave me weird pink pajamas to wear after some nurse measured my temperature and blood pressure. They also gave me plastic-bag-like things; overshoes and overhead.”

Of course, as long as my cellphone was on me, I took pictures.

The room I stayed in. . . (April 14th, 2012)

Those said pajamas had a greenish shade to them, resulting from being washed with green gowns and whatnot. Gee, people, separate your laundry!

I spent a lot of time in that room with my parents, waiting for anyone to tell us anything. Finally, at an hour I am not quite sure of, a nurse walked in and took me to the surgery room.

The door to the operation room. . . I took this picture AFTER everything was over. . . (April 14th, 2012)

There, I lay on the bed, and let myself go. They placed my left hand on some kind of plate and shoved a cannula in it. A doctor proceeded to inject something into me – I think – as he hummed merrily. A nurse simultaneously covered my body with a green table-cloth like thing. Someone then held a yellow lined mask over my head, and it reeked of something. . . then I was totally out.

12:50 (written while under the influence of Intraval)

I woke up 10 minutes ago. I am writing under the influence of Intraval. . . that’s not bad. My mind is working properly but my body is slightly shaking and my tongue is heavy with a dry throat. I cursed some, but that’s about it. There is a cotton pack in my nose and I am sleeping under one cotton and one woolen blanket. . . It tastes like banana and it’s disgusting.

Not bad, considering the state I was in. My mind was not working as properly as I thought it was, but that’s what the drug does to you. It also had a very euphoric feeling, but I would have preferred if it was accompanied with proper muscle movement.

12:55 (written while under the influence of Intraval)

I took pictures of the cyst and my throat is so dry. . . I want to get dressed and go out and see people.

I have no idea what that was supposed to mean. See people? Since when did I like people so much?

Anyways, we left at 14:00 but most of the time spent in the hospital was spent waiting for stuff. The effect of Intraval wore off after about 30 minutes.

Sunday, April 15th, 2012

Everything was going fine, but then my nose started bleeding after I sneezed a couple of times. And so, my mother took me to the clinic again.


Today is Easter in Egypt, and also my first day after surgery. In the infamous waiting room, I sat with my mother. There were two Lybian guys on the right, one of them on a wheeled chair. There was a mother with two kids; a boy and a girl, and a couple with a baby. An old woman came in with a couple, and she leaned/slept on the woman’s shoulder. I proceeded to read in The DaVinci Code.


The doctor saw me then we went to wait in an empty room.

There was a cool yellow chair in that said room; which was actually a clinic.

Epic yellow chair is epic! (April 15th, 2012)

The doctor then came in, and he cauterized my wound with Silver Nitrate, then packed it with something more advanced than the mere cotton they gave me yesterday. I finally went home, and now everything is good. I am supposed to remove that pack on Tuesday, and maybe there will be more to tell then.

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Just A Little Medical Update. . .

Yesterday I resumed my adventure at the Otolaryngologist’s. In medical terms, I have a Haemangioma Cyst in my left nostril, but in simple people English, I can tell you that I have a lump filled with blood in my nose. Anyways, they scheduled my surgery on Saturday under general anesthesia; which means there is a slight chance you’ll never hear from me again (yes, some people die because of that). But I am not really worried; I’ve had an operation with the same Otolaryngologist when I was 9, and things are cool.

After the medical visit, I went to a coffee shop with my mother and ordered a cheesecake. You’d expect a slice of cheesecake, but this was what I got. . .

Behold! I only ate about one third of what is hopefully not the last cheesecake I'll see in my life. . . (April 12th, 2012)

See you soon, WordPress and world! ♥

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Otolaryngologist & CT Scan Adventure

Doctors’ waiting rooms are quite entertaining places, at least to me. I arrived with my mother at around 10:30 in the morning to catch an early number in the queue, but we were informed that the doctor arrives around noon anyways. We registered my name and went to sit down in the waiting area. . . and let the wait begin!

I wrote some things in my notepad, then proceeded to study some Heat Transfer (I’d brought my college work with me). The topic was heat conduction through composite walls, which was quite easy because we’d studied it about 3 semesters ago in a Thermodynamics course.

I looked up to see the people around me. Where I was seated, I could spot six men, four of which were bearded, and one had a little child with him. The TV was on, but I could make out what the ads were about because of the static. I could also see my mum’s cool boots.

Them epic boots (image taken later at home, mind not the carpet)

I went back to my notebook, and it was only 11:00.

“. . . a 10 cm wall made of common brick and a 2.5 cm layer of fiber glass. . .”

There was an ad about some kind of facial mask, which is something I never got to point of. I also don’t know why people give me weird looks whenever I’m studying in a waiting room.


“. . . 250 mm fiber brick, 125 mm insulating brick and 250 mm building brick. . .”

The weird movie that was on TV was back on, and the main character might have looked like the Lebanese singer Walid Tawfik; there was too much TV static for me to make more shapes out.


“. . . Lc is the corrective length. . .”

I realized the guy on TV was actually the actor Mohammad Saad with a very fake wig on. My name was then called for “pre-inspection”. Some young doctor poked instruments inside my nose, peeked into my ears and almost took my life with his tongue depressor before letting me back into the waiting room.


“. . . a very long copper rod. . .”

There were people screaming on TV, and patients were talking all around me. I was getting really bored. My mum informed me that the reception desk owed us 20 pounds.


The movie was over, and one of the reception desk’s phones was ringing.

“. . . P.S. The graph method is not really accurate. . .”


They moved us into the inner waiting room, where there was absolutely no place. I was about to start getting pissed off.


Moving from Heat Transfer to Internal Combustion Engines II, which is all about Diesel engines.

“. . . the A-frame carries the cylinder block. . .”

A guy standing across the room looked like the very miserable version of Saddam Hussein.


The actual otolaryngologist (which Firefox would like to correct as “palaeontologist”. . .) checked me out and gave me new medications to follow. He also asked for some kind of X-ray, which later turned out to be a CT scan. I didn’t know what I was going to have then, but the full name of the process is computed tomography of the paranasal air sinuses. I later saw that on my report as well as the following technical data: Contiguous coronal 2 mm CT scans of the paranasal air sinuses without intravenous contrast medium injection viewed in a balanced soft tissue and high resolution bone reconstruction alogarithm (plates 1 & 2).

A stock photo of the device in question, as I was unable to take pictures of the actual one used.

12:05 ~ 12:10

The X-ray place was much dimmer than the clinic (it’s a 5 minute drive from there, by the way), and the people looked more sick. There was an old man on a wheeled chair with a cannula in his left hand. A lonely man was staring at me like I’d eaten his children or something. There were another man and woman with an older guy between them, seemingly the “patient”. A little bored boy with purple medicine around his mouth was there too with two old women, probably his mother and grandmother. Next to me was a bunch of other people that I could not see very well; mostly aged men. There was also me and my mother.

A closed door indicated “CT scan”, with a wall clock over it and two squarish red lamps. The right one was lit. The open door behind my mother (which we later learned was the control room of the CT scan machine) had a little sign on it, demanding it be closed at all times to maintain the air conditioning. The staring man was still staring at me, so my mother told me to stare back. A group of people walked in behind a man in a wheeled chair.


People are walking in and out of the CT scan room like it’s their own living room.


The old man’s wheeled chair screeches so badly. I wonder if he’s deaf, because otherwise I really pity him. Apparently, the second wheeled chair guy has his whole right side paralyzed. I know people’s miseries are not supposed to be entertaining, and I am not being “entertained” here. It’s just that I like to observe everything, and illnesses have always been quite interesting to me. Leave me in a hospital for a whole week and I could write you a book!


The ceiling was so dirty and I wanted to take a picture for documentation’s sake. I refrained, however, in fear of being mistaken for a psycho who was taking random pictures of people around the place. The poor paralyzed man was surrounded by a bunch of idiots.


The paralyzed man was taken into the CT scan room, and about 4 or 5 people went along with him. They were taken out, of course, when the machine started working.


The staring guy moved to the right corner of the room. He was quite creepy, and I decided to stare back at him and act creepy too.


They called my name, and I went into the CT scan room. I had to take my earrings off, of course, as well as my glasses. I went into the machine all the way to my shoulders, and even though I had no glasses on I could still see the shapes of the lights very well, and that awesome spinning part. The engineer in me wondered about the bearings inside the epic machine. I really wanted to go in fully to test my claustrophobia or lack thereof.


I want my report!


Got my report! Time to go back to the first clinic.

That's my nose! In your "face", Voldemort (no pun intended)!


A bunch of new people were in the first clinic. Mum made me use some sticky hand sanitizer. We had to wait because the doctor was in an operation.


“. . . in small engines, all cylinders are found in one cylinder block. . .”


I tried with my cellphone, and found free Wi-Fi with excellent signal.


I read through the cellphone some news that say Metallica is splitting up. More likely to be a lame April Fools’ joke.


The seats are so uncomfortable. I’m not sure if they are made of Aluminum or something else, but they are quite painful for the human back.


A wild otolaryngologist appeared!


Done with medical stuff and back into the car. I am to follow the new medication for 10 days, then I’ll be back to the clinic to continue my adventures.

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