I've gotten plenty of kind words from friends near and far about my recovery from my thyroidectomy. Figured I should explain everything that's happened to all those curious. I'm definitely alive. The short summary explanation is:

• The Doctor, an expert in his field, said I was the first challenge he's had in years. Apparently, my thyroid was tough, my lymph nodes larger than normal. Surgery took about an hour longer than expected.
• After a careful analysis of everything they took out, I have no cancer, no abnormalities, and am totally in the clear. They took two of my parathyroids by accident, which they warned us before the surgery could happen. (They are tiny and often can't be differentiated from other tissue.) This could lead me to have a Calcium imbalance.
• I had a little hoarseness the first day but my voice is now back to normal.
• They inserted a creepy drain in my chest to eliminate any chance of infection. Said drain was removed on Monday.
• I had some tingling in my arms and legs, which can be attributed to low calcium levels ( a side affect of the surgery in general), but in my case was actually a pinched nerve in my neck. Advil has reduced the swelling and the tingling has gone away.
• I was off the serious pain meds after day 2.
• The scar is healing nicely.
• My neck is still sore.
• Other than the occasional tiredness, so far I'm feeling pretty damn good, considering.

For those of you interested in the extremely boring minutiae of a thyroidectomy, feel free to read on. Click here to get all the boring details. You'll be bored to tears. I just felt the need to write it all down.

Friday at 12:15 pm I checked in at the hospital. The rules you have to follow are simple the day of the surgery. No food 8 hours prior to surgery, no liquids 2 hours prior to surgery. So I was pretty hungry at this point. My family then arrives and eats Chipotle in front of me, my brother specifically mocking me as he eats his delicious gargantuan fajita burrito. Revenge for the 18 years of torture he received at my evil evil hands back in the day. At 2:15 no one had come to the lobby to check me in, so I asked if they had forgotten about me.

Turns out they hadn't, they were just running late. A pretty severe cancer case went in before me that took twice as long as expected. At 4:00 I start getting antsy again, and ask for a more definitive time that they might come out and get me all setup for surgery. The nice lady behind the desk informs me it will be another 45 minutes at least before they come out and see me. At this point I got antsy, and decided to do some work since I had time to kill. At 4:05 I call a potential client to see if they'd be interested in working with us. I plan on explaining to him that I may get cut off and may have to hop into surgery (but I figure I have 45 minutes to spare.) The client puts me on hold for a second before I can share that tidbit with him, at which point a nurse comes out and asks for me. Of course. I hang up and potentially alienate the client. I have my brother convey the hilarious message that I had to step away for surgery. (I later call a coworker and have him do the heavy lifting while waiting in pre-op.)

In Pre-op, the anesthesiologist came by and explained all the details of the anesthesia. I'll get some fun stuff injected on the way into the procedure that makes me conscious, but mentally unaware of my surroundings, yet completely compliant with their instructions. They'll shove a tube down my throat to help be breathe and then give me the real anesthesia that knocks me out. I'll then be on my back with my head hanging off the end of a table with my neck protruding upward, with my arms all stretched out as if nailed to a cross to give them as much exposure to my neck as possible. Then they make a small insision into a predetermined fold in my neck (to help hide the scar once it heals) and go to town on my thyroid. The whole procedure should take 2.5 hours.

While in Pre-op, a nurse came in to setup my IV, but forgot to take a blood sample first, so she unscrewed the little attachment and blood went pouring down the side of my arm. I don't do well around blood, and had to look away, what with the whole dizziness and paleness that comes with me looking at anything more than a pinprick of my own blood.

After her, the entire endocrinology team came over to introduce themselves and check me out. Many were young students. The lead doctor introduced herself and then explained that one post surgery side effect could be low calcium. A sign of that is if the patient opens their mouth just a little, and the doctor wacks the side of their jaw, and the patient's lip trembles, their calcium is low. It's called Chvostek's Sign. AND in 10% of humans, it happens regardless of one's calcium level. So she tested me out, and sure enough I am one of said 10%. So post operation they would not be able to use that as a indicator of my calcium levels. So special special me. After she showed the other doctors how freaky I am, they all wanted a turn, and so 4 student doctors took turns wacking me in the face. Fun times.

Afterwords, while waiting for the surgical team, my sister Betsy and Heather played Canasta with me (they are the two most ruthless players alive and showed me no mercy.) I lost the first 4 hands. We played till about 5:30, right when I was at the peak of my comeback. Before I could crush them, the surgical team came to get me.

Before we set off to the slice and dice, the anesthesiologist made me an offer I couldn't refuse. He stated that if I peed before going into surgery, I probably wouldn't need a urine tube stuck up my business. I happily complied, hopped back in the surgical bed, and they pushed me towards the cutting room. It's at this point, I think to myself, "I'll have some witty banter with the surgeons prior to going under." What I didn't realize was the anesthesiologist had pushed the happy drugs while we were on the way to the room, so by the time we got there, my banter was all for naught as I totally blacked out as I was moving from my surgical bed to the operating theatre. Tragic.

I woke up around 9:00 pm with my family around me in the recovery area (they don't put you into your own room until they know you are doing ok.) I declared the nurse my best friend as she pushed pain meds into my IV. I rubbed my brother's belly and congratulated him on his "Food Baby" and then proceeded to share that I too was growing one. I promised my nephew that he could play all the Wii he wanted at my house (I banned him for 6 months for shooting spitwads at me.) I was downright jolly considering what I had been through. I then checked my business to make sure I had no creepy tube peeing for me. All was well.

In my post surgery haze, Heather explained that my surgery had taken an hour longer than expected and that I had been a "challenge" for the surgery team due to my strange anatomy. My lymph nodes were twice as big as normal ones, and my thyroid was really tough to get out. I was excited as I wanted them to work for their money. Additionally, they had to install a Jackson-Pratt Drain in my chest because the surgery went so rough. That, I was not excited about. It looks like a small innocuous tube coming out of your chest. But that is all lies as I will explain later. A Nurse came over and emptied the drain. My sister turned a lighter shade of pale (she too can't handle blood), said goodbye quickly and rushed my nephew out the door, before she could witness any more fluids evacuating my body, thus protecting her a future fainting spell.

Everyone said goodbye, and a male nurse whom I'd met when my mom had surgery, a guy who at the time claimed that "Obama was a muslim terrorist" came over to wheel me up to my room. I shouted, "Hey, political guy!" because I was all high and what not, which provoked him to remember me and we had a long long talk all the way up to the room. I don't remember what was said, I just know I was right.

That first night sucked. Every 15-20 minutes, I would swallow in pain or dehydration, which would wake me up as I tried to sleep. Additionally, my body wasn't retaining the fluids from the IV so it would go straight through my system. I'd have to wake Heather up every hour to hand me a pee jar (which, by the way, I'm thankful for being a dude, as peeing into a jar is far easier than a bed pan. Thanks God!) I peed 15 times in 12 hours. It got old.

The night doctor (a younger fellow) checked on me. The Morphine they gave me wasn't doing anything so he switched me to vicodin. Having heard the rumor from the other students he asked if he could wack my face. I apparently was a legend among the young CU medical class. He stared at me fascinated, trying both sides of my face. I made his night as my freakish lips trembled up and down.

The next morning at 7am, a female doctor came to check on me and hit me in the face. She told me I could eat anything, and since I hadn't eaten in 32 hours, I was ready to eat. A nice nurse provided me with the best Vanilla pudding I ever had (she did not, however, have a "vat of it" as I requested hiding anywhere.)

Heather went downstairs to get her own breakfast. I ate most of that. Then I ate my breakfast. Another student doctor came in for a chance to hit my legendary face. We settled in for a day of recovery, watching No Country for Old Men (Reminds me of home), and Mr. Show. At lunch, I ate the pasta and sausage they served me. Then I had Heather get me a sandwich from downstairs. I apparently, was hungry. Another doctor arrived after lunch to let me know that I might be able to go home today, and then he whacked me in the face.

Around 2:00 pm a final set of doctors came in and approved me going home. One was a head of the department, the other an Intern. The Intern whacked my face, then they let the nurse know I could go home. Heather went to get my prescriptions filled, and the nurse ordered transport.

The doctors and nurses and CU medical center provided fantastic treatment and if you ever plan on having a major organ removed I highly recommend you go there to get it done. They were all friendly and highly skilled. They probably won't hit you in the face either. And their food is pretty good.

There's nothing quite as humbling as wearing a gown and pajama bottoms, with a drain sticking out of your chest being pushed out of a hospital in front of hundreds of strangers. It really makes you feel like you are 87. At least I didn't have a pee bag?

Upon arriving home, there was a series of various exercises. Sleeping, draining and measuring the fluids in my creepy drain, sleeping more, popping pills, not getting hit in the face, watching TV and sleeping. The drain is allowed to be removed once you get less than 30cc's of blood and creepy yellow fluid in one 24 hour period. By Monday, I had achieved 26. I met with another doctor to have it removed. She too hit me in the face. The drain looks similar to this except the plastic tube that comes out of my chest was smaller, and the white part was wider. I was unaware of the white part when she asked me if I was ready. She then said I might feel some slight uncomfortable moments. She then cut the suture holding it in place, told me to brace myself, and ripped a gargantuan white thing out of my gaping chest hole. I swear it was 3 feet long. Heather claims 4 inches, but whatever. There was pain involved. She then asked why I was so pale, I stared at the instrument of my torture and assured her I was ok.

I got home and have been continuing my recovery ever since. There's less pain in my neck each day, and I have a strange feeling that the thyroid pill I'm taking is giving me a little extra kick in my step. Heather has taken incredible care of me, transferring urine, changing bandages, massaging my aching body and feeding me non stop. If you can find your own Heather I recommend getting one as they are totally awesome and stuff. Also they sing Karaoke.

If you've read through this far, you deserve a medal of boredom. Congrats. Thanks to everyone who has asked about and written to me. It meant alot to know that people gave a shit. You are all better friends than a man without a thyroid deserves. Cheers.