Things I Learned In The Hospital

- Everyone is very friendly. Veeeery friendly.

- Once you're in the operating room, there's no fucking around. I was out cold within 3 minutes or so of being wheeled in. Three hours later I woke up in the recovery room with the worst case of drymouth ever.

- There's always someone who's got it way worse than you so stop feeling sorry for yourself. Like the guy in the bed next to me who was in obvious pain for hours until he finally got to sleep. He required a 24 hour nurse. In the morning they had trouble waking him up. Before I knew what was happening my bed was being wheeled out into the hallway and there are people with machines running around everywhere, trying to revive him. When I checked out a couple hours later they told me he was relatively OK in the ICU.
So stop feeling fucking sorry for yourself.

- Hospital beds are awesome. If I could have stolen it I would have.

- Either no one understands the word 'vegan' or no one reads your dietary preferences on the admittance form. Which ever, it's sort of shockingly disappointing. As I described in a previous post they brought me scrambled eggs, buttered toast and a carton of milk for breakfast. This is in a hospital. With health care professionals.
Really, just a banana and an apple would have been great. Undoably complicated I realize, but it would have been great.

- You can't help but become emotionally attached to your nurse. If she's friendly anyway. She's just there whenever you want her.

- I have a resting heart rate of 46-52 bpm. Which, ahem, is in the top range of a 23 year old athlete. Being significantly older than that, I thought that was alright. And I will quit fucking smoking any day now.

Fun With Hospital Food

I'm something of a cyclist. I mean, I'm not going to be a threat in the Tour de France at any point in this lifetime but damn I like riding a bike. Besides being the best way to get around the city, tell me that you don't feel like you're flying while you speed down a big hill. Go ahead. You can't because riding a bike is just fucking awesome. Anyway, six weeks ago, after waiting for a month for it to arrive, I was riding my brand new Cannondale on some off road trails here in the lovely city of Toronto. Mountain biking being possibly the most fun you can have on two wheels, there I was having a blast in The Don Valley.

Then...big hill, log at bottom, failed bunnyhop attempt, disaster. After a frenzied few seconds, there I was laying on the ground hoping I hadn't cracked my skull or wasn't bleeding to death. Something was definitely wrong. My right arm didn't feel right. Not right at all. Fucking fuck. After making my way to the emergency ward, wrist swelling up alarmingly and unable to move my right arm at the shoulder I'm told I have a broken collarbone and forearm.

Anyway, to get to the point, two weeks later I went in for surgery on my collarbone. It had been broken into three pieces so they ended up putting a plate in with screws holding everything together. I ended up staying overnight in the hospital. Now, when you check in to a hospital (at least in Canada), on the form is a question asking if you have any special dietary needs. I proudly write VEGAN in all caps and underneath "no animal products" just to make it as clear as crystal.

So the operation goes well, no complications, and I spend the rest of the day and night dozing and listening to 'The Dark Tower' audiobook (amazing by the way). The next morning they bring breakfast around.

They bring a tray into my room and I look under the lid.

Scrambled eggs, buttered toast and a carton of milk. Seriously. The opposite of vegan. You can't get any more un-vegan. All they would've had to do is put a fucking banana and an apple on a plate. Hello, is there a nutritionist in this here health care facility? Anyone...?

I politely sent it back.