Remember when that Who-down-in-Whoville was trying to burrow its way out of my bellybutton and all of you were like, “That’s a hernia. You need to get that shit fixed yesterday.” Well, turns out it’s a hernia and I need to get that shit fixed yesterday. You guys should consider charging for your diagnoses because that was pretty impressive. If I had more energy I’d start a website called “Does this look normal to you?” so people could post pictures of weird-ass stuff on their body and you could tell them what’s wrong with them.
This week I met with the surgeon and he felt around my stomach and was like, “Yep. You’ve got a hole in there, and if we don’t fix it now it’ll just get worse,” but I countered that “Technically I have lots of holes in my body and they’re doing just fine. In fact, if I didn’t have these holes in my face I’d suffocate. They’re called ‘nostrils‘ and I’m a big fan.” Then he explained that it was less of a “hole” and more of a “widening rip in my abdominal wall” so I agreed to have the surgery. On the plus side, at the moment I can truthfully brag, “Yo, my abs are ripped” although not really in the way that most people might expect.
The surgeon explained that I would be having “robotic hernia surgery” and I explained that I didn’t want a hernia at all, much less a robotic hernia. Then he paused and clarified that the surgery itself was done by robots and that’s even scarier because I can’t even walk past the tv without the cable going out and the last time I opened the refrigerator it spit ice cubes out at me because all technology hates me for some reason. The doctor assured me that he’d be in command, and that the robots would just have a bunch of fingers in me that he’d be controlling. He assured me this was a simple procedure, and that everything would be fine just so long as the robots didn’t suddenly become self-aware and give me chainsaw hands and implant their brain in my head so that they could use me to take over the world. He didn’t say that last part out loud but I think it was implied.
A friend recommended I look at pictures of the procedure so that I’ll understand how great robotic surgery is because robots can do operations using tiny incisions. I took their advice and I’m not sure if this is supposed to be a comforting surgery picture, or a scene from a horror film where a robotic spider is implanting robot spider eggs into the stomachs of their hosts. Either way, it’s disconcerting.
Long story short, I’m having surgery on Friday and if all goes as planned I’ll be fine, and if not then I apologize in advance for using my chainsaw hands to threaten you but let me assure you that it’s nothing personal. You can’t reason with robot spiders. I assume.