No, literally … my mind is blank. Usually I would find something to grumble about or make some comment on, but today I just don’t want to think at all. It’s a conscience effort so that I only have to react to stimuli that prompts me to action. I was hoping I could sit still and everything simply revolved around me, and I just a silent observer. The plan didn’t work this way at all. I came into work and nothing is more distressing for a internet telecommunication business than to have it’s internet and communications out of action. The internets back up, but the emails are only sending, not receiving. I have my trusty Chilean IT friend helping me out on this one. Well, not before he reminded me that his rates somewhat doubled for DIY’ers. He was right, I solved one problem but inadvertantly created another. Here’s a plug for his business hoping that the words “mates rates” ring in his ears while he’s writing out the invoice a little later this evening. Metronix Computer Support – Call me for great computer support, hardware and software, and I’ll give my mate David free IT services!

If I were a car, even I wouldn’t buy me.

There just seems to be too many missing or broken parts, lets see, no appendix, no gall bladder, broken shoulder, no prostate, barely remembers things, and the blood is tainted with cancer. Did you say, you’ll pay me to remove this body off the block? I came home last Wednesday (ANZAC day), spent a couple of hours at work, and a couple more on Thursday and Friday. Next thing I know, those who love me gave me a good old fashioned ear bashing. Nothing like being pushed further below the water line when you’re trying to get on top of things. I counted 5 (female) nurses who adored my pyjama pants when I was at hospital, I’m now contemplating wearing them out to the shops. For some reason they recognised some dude whose name appeared on my jammy’s called Peter Alexander, just hope he’s not some gay icon. Everyone knows I’m not gay, right? Nothing against gay people, but I can do without the unwanted attention particularly as I’m a bit of a pretty boy and muscular! Here’s a pic of me suffering in front of the television screen. I’m of higher and better spirits in the last couple of days because I’ve self diagnosed a double dose of sleeping tabs. I’m sleeping almost as soon as I hit the pillow and then struggle to get out of bed by 8:30am. Problem however is that I’m still drowsy during the remainder of the day. If there are any credible persons reading this with a Medical background can you leave a comment below please. I’ve changed to 2 x 5mg Diazepam? If this dosage is not causing the tiredness then I may need to worry once again. Crap!

I could hardly take credit to finally waking up and discovering I survived the operation, as I’d been woken up about a hundred times during the course of the day. If it’s not the physio who wants me to give 3 almighty huffs followed by a cough, 2 laps down the hallway (it dawned on me why my mum called me turtle) … and then 3 deep breathes every hour … or the nurse who needed to refuel the drip … or the food delivery service guy … or the pair of nurses where one reads my wristlet band while the other hands me a dose of pills … I could possibly give sleeping a go. My son Ben, bless his heart texted me from downstairs to let me know that he had purchased a Cappuccino. Great, the very last thing I want right at this moment. So I chugged it down with appreciation. Thank you son. Later tonight the surgeon came in to evaluate my condition and suggested I could be home tomorrow. I just knew the extra lap would pay off, no pain no gain, yup that’s me. He also left me with a couple of Polaroid shots of my chest cavity, explaining in detail the story behind each picture. I accepted his version that the foaming gue was infection, but did he have to burst it while it was still inside me with his soldering iron. I was seriously wondering if that was an ‘oopsy’ moment. The white sausage like piece of meat is the Gall Bladder and apparently the shape and size of this one suggests it’s filled with explosive devices, so the surgeon is careful positioning it for the right camera shot. Immediately below it and surprisingly, that’s my liver, the surgeon said that it looks very healthy. I feel sad that the months of alcohol abstinance must have turned it into a monastery. Cheer up old fellow, I’ll have a glass of wine after this. I wanted to upload another groovy pic of the gall bladder oozing all of it’s bubbly goodness, but the family jeered and boo’ed at this proposal so I was left to battle my conscience. Do I upload it for the shock value or for educational purposes? I’ll sneak it onto the blog at a later time [insert evil laugh here].

Feeling really groggy, vision is a bit blurry (wait, that’s normal), throat parched, still hungry, feels like someone’s shot me 3 times in the gut … what am I doing on the Internet? Hospitals make you feel lonely, however the fast food service of morphine is exceptional. Would have been nice to wake up to a surprise party of Circus Clowns, balloons, animals and magic tricks. I’m a little disappointed. I’ve got serious tummy pains, and all I want are the Chocolate Lamingtons Lisa and Sarah brought in earlier tonight. Shall I risk it? Even decisions are difficult under anesthetic, … What I really need is either a coin or a dice right now. Weight Watchers would be happy with me, Google says the average gall bladder weighs 350 grams, and all I want is dessert to celebrate. Ok, let’s get real, I’m going to try and sleep now, yeah right, like that’s going to happen. At least the TV is going to be my companion tonight, channel surfing here I come. Good night all.