In light of the fact that I had to be at the hospital for a 7:30am appointment this morning, I went to bed early and got a good night's sleep...right?

No.

I watched the Falcons-Saints game until around 11:30pm or so, talked to the wife while she was feeding urchin 2.0, then finally went to sleep around midnight. I woke up at about 3:10am or so to feed the baby (as it was my turn), finished up, put her down, added a hit counter to my blog and got back to sleep about 4am. Around 5:40am, Sophia rustled and I awoke (just five minutes shy of my alarm) and I got up and out of the house at a svelt 219 pounds complete with a peanut butter sammich, a Ken Follett novel and my I-pod.

See, even with an "appointment," one thing I've learned is that an appointment just means that someone will see you that day. Patients wait for surgeons...not the other way around. So I figured my best bet was to get there early (6:45am) and get in the line early so I'd maybe get first available or at the very worst get done before noon.

I took my seat after checking in at desk four (my lucky desk) and had a couple of nice words with the very nice ladies at the admit desk there at the Stella Marris building. As has been the case, every person I came into contact with was professional, warm and friendly and very adept at putting folks at ease.

Anyway, back to the story.

My appointment was at 7:30am and lo and behold, here comes my nurse. She took me back through pre-op (where I'd last been prior to the big operation) to an area that appeared to be more of an open pre-op area. Not that it matters.

What I immediately noticed was that there was no ultrasound machine.

Why does that matter, you ask? Simple. The last time I had this done, the doctor used the ultrasound to locate the low spot of the fluid and monitored the progress of the gravity draining with said machine.

While waiting for Dr. Murphy to show up, I spoke with the nurse and Lisa (Dr. Murphy's assistant and nurse) about said ultrasound.

"Not using one," they said.

Uh oh. Sounds like we're going prospecting.

Anyway, Lisa assured me that Dr. Murphy was on his way after changing clothes and at about 7:40am, in he walked.

We made small talk about my fluid, mostly about if it was my fault, could it be prevented, etc. Small talk. Especially since we'd covered all of that just the day before in his office. What it was was nervous talk.

So as I did before, I sat sideways on the gurney and leaned forward on the table, but this time Dr. Murphy asked me to just sit straight up instead.

I got the usual "You're going to feel a burn" while getting the four or five shots of lydocaine just prior to pushing that little three-pronged arrow tip thru the gap in your ribs.

I immediately noticed a different sensation than last time I had this done.

"Ummm...are we using the vacuum version of this instead of the gravity drain?" I asked.

"Yep," he replied.

"Oh. That's why it feels funny," I thought.

I noticed more discomfort from the negative pressure than last time, but since this effort took 25 minutes instead of 90 minutes, I understood that.

Basically what they use is a jar that is somehow made into a vacuum, and they stick one end of the tube into the jar and the other end into me.

So I'm sitting there chatting with them all, when all of a sudden I felt funny.

"Hey you guys, I'm feeling a little faint," to which Dr. Murphy replied "What?"

I repeated "I'm feeling faint."

And the next thing I said was to myself and then out loud. "Why am I laying on my side?"

"Because you fainted," said Lisa.

Oh God dammit. I've fainted.

"How long was I out?"

"About five seconds," Lisa said.

Oh good. I thought I'd made an ass of myself.

The other nurse got the obligatory cool washcloth to put on my vagina...I mean forhead, and I immediately started feeling much better.

The Doctor said I might as well stay on my side until he was finished, which took a grand total of about 25 minutes.

After he bandaged me up, he asked "How much fluid did you say you thought was in there?"

"About a litre and a half I guess."

"Not bad," he said. "It was about 10% under that." He washed up and headed for the door and turned just short of that and said "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go do some actual surgery."

(That dude's funny. I like that kind of stuff).

I then got a portable chest x-ray done and when they returned it, it looked about like the one did after the emergency draining last Saturday. Lisa and I decided that I should go get another x-ray at my regular doc in a week or so, have a look at it (since I now know what I'm looking for more than most GP's) and if there's more there to just call them to set up another tapping.

And then, as quickly as it had started, it was over. I got dressed, had a water and headed for the car, and was home by about 9:30am.

Not bad for a Tuesday morning at the hospital, eh?

And just so you know, I came home and re-weighed. I was 219 when I left the house, and despite drinking two waters and eating one slice of pizza and one peanut butter sammich, I weighed 217.

Bring on the speedo!!