“There’s nothing to be scared of,” the doctor said, apropo of nothing. That’s what worried me most. Not because doctors are notorious liars (I mean, I guess they could be), but because people don’t feel the need to reassure you when there’s actually nothing to be afraid of.
To be fair, an appendectomy is generally considered a ‘minor procedure.’ I’ve certainly thought of it that way when it was happening to someone else—but this is me we’re talking about. Anyway, it made me wonder how important an organ had to be before they considered it a major procedure.
I bet a kidney is pretty major. Is it because a kidney is bigger? Or because it does more? It didn’t seem like a good time to ask. Besides, I had other questions.
“Can I keep it?” I said, unsure of what I planned on doing with it, but it is mine after all. Why shouldn’t I keep it? Before the doctor could respond, I pointed with one finger at my lower abdomen where I thought my appendix would be and raised my eyebrows (I had to be sure we were on the same page of what I was talking about).
“No… we need to remove it.” The doctor said, speaking a little slowly and annunciating every word. He didn’t get what I was saying.
I shook my head, “I mean afterward.” Again, I raised my eyebrows, indicating not only that I was hopeful, but also that it was his turn to talk.
He calmly explained some law or regulation that prevented me from being able to take my own organ home after the procedure. I just think that he didn’t want me to have it. He probably has a whole freezer full of these things.
Anyway, sorry for the long preamble. The surgery went fine, I give the hospital 3-stars. They won’t kill you, but they also won’t bend any rules for you.