Post-Op

New nurse in pink scrubs
rolls into my room
asks if doc has clued me
on post-op instructions.

The fleshy straw doubling as my throat
groans out a yes accompanied by a sore
neck head bob to confirm and reaffirm
because doc gave me the one two three

be careful moving, eating, and sleeping.

But nurse nanny with tiny fanny
looks to mesmerize with her memorized litany

No walking, talking, running, jogging
hot dogging, and leap frogging
(I throw that one in for the kids)
or skateboarding or bicycling or motorcycling
since those sitting angles are all acute--
less than 90 degrees you know--and we need
your toros and legs at an obtuse--
more than 90 degrees--angle at all times
so blood can flow from head-to-toe
and pool at the apex of your abdo muscle,
uterine wall, and intestines and riding or
driving in any of those positions are acute
and A-tagonistic to your healing; some
movement is of course ok, and almost
impossible not to have but you must
only shuffle, or pace, or slow walk--
I call it Frankensteining--and make sure
you have a guide or cane or cell phone
because while you are at a 180 degree
body angle which is primo, you're also
vertical causing that blood flow to cascade
and like the singing cicadas of the summer
irritate and annoy your bowel, doubling you
over on the sidewalk; indoor motion too
needs to be monitored so, make sure you place
5 psi on each side of your abdomen when you cough,
sneeze, snort, clear your throat, urinate, flatulate,
and defecate bringing me to the perils of fornicating
with your pelvis and thus AB-staining from the S-E-X
for at least six months.

Nurse scopes out my parents.

Although, apparently not a problem
since both your 'rents are here and any S.O.
is clearly M.I.A. from this affair, so let's move
on to consumption seeing as how you won't be
conusmating any time soon; for the first 72 hours
you may only consume clears: water, ice, popsicles,
soups, broths, teas, non-carboniated sodas, pulpless
juices, and jello. After 72 hours and before 96 hours
you can move up the ruddy ladder to muddies like
puddings, milks, semi-pulp juice, creamy soups,
low pulp stews, low pasta sauces, and soft breads,
which you should dip in everything you have to soften
then more since your digestive track is finally on track
after your hernial wall went awry allowing your bowel
to go A.W.O.L. (I throw that one in for the military men)
and slowing your movements to standstills; after 96 hours
but before 120 hours you can have pasta.


Not lasagna, just pasta.


After 120 hours you can return to eating normal things
but you must not goo all country buffet or golden corral
on your body.

I tell her I write poetry
and I wrote a poem
about eating at buffets.


Finally, finally, finally we have sleeping
you must sleep, but you must sleep no more
than 8 hours and no less than 6 hours
in a position no more or less than 180 degrees
horizontal on your mattress; arms and legs
must be parallel to your body, maybe at most
bent no more than three degrees or seven total
per limb, you're not a tree you know
(I throw that in there for the arboristas)
your head can be at any degree or turned any
way as long as it's comfortable with you
anything not comfortable with you stop doing
I know that sounds odd, but you'll be uncomfortable
anyway with all of the cutting and such we gave you
so attempting to make yourself more comfortable
will only result in you becoming uncomfortable.


Do you have any questions?


I linger


and due to throat
constriction cannot ask:

Were there alternatives to this surgery
since I visited my doc weeks ago when
I thought I had a heart attack
originally thought it was heart ache
after considering heart burn
caused by consuming several animal types,
at least six different opaque cheeses,
and an entire I.V. bag of Dr. McGillicuddy's
(I throw that in there for all the nurses)
within a four hour sitting at a Superbowl party
causing me to pass out in blissful joy with one leg
over the sofa, one arm on the floor, some vomit
trickling down my mouth for no less than three hours
and no more than four hours during which my ex-S.O.
and ex-B.F.F. decided to have the S.E.X. on his pool table
in obtuse positions because he was more acute than I
causing me to first feel stomach pain, then dismissing it,
then feel chest pain, then dismissing it, then getting it checked
only because I was on her health insurance
and figured that heart surgery was a more expensive F.U.
then pissing in the soup she makes for her family every year
yet causing me to rethink this plan
due to your list of rules which clearly
apply to no one on the planet beyond your husband?

I nod instead
sitting at 91 degrees
looking out the window
and forward to the pasta.