24 Hours In the Alfred Hospital
Nov. 14th, 2006 04:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maxcelcatHey all, this is how I spent Thursday, November the 9th....
10PM, the night before
I am a crazy bugger. The night before I was due to go in for surgery, I went to... the gym. I also had to fast from Midnight, so I had myself a huge snack of some cold roast chicken around 10.30, to tide me over!
Trams and Doors
For good or ill, I decided to take myself to the hospital by train and tram. It's probably one of the hardest journeys in Melbourne to get from Northcote to Prahran in the mornings - Punt road, for example, being the most direct route. So I packed my pyjamas and my teddy bear, er, I mean, my MP3 player, and hoped on the 8.03 limited express to Flinders street.
Of course, the tram I caught then almost ceased to function just outside flinders street - the front door was fried. I was juuuuust about to jump off at get into a cab - it was 8.43 by this stage, I had to check in at 9am - when miraculously the tram started moving again.
Waiting, Part One
Admissions was listed out the front as being on the second floor, although I'd been told over the phone to go to level three. So I tried level 2, only to be told by a sign that Admissions had moved to level 3... Finally figured I was in the right place, plonked myself down on a chair, and waited.
Nurse One
A nurse admitted me, asked for my medicare card, put a hospital band on my wrist, and asked if I had any private health insurance. I do, but it has a nasty excess on hospital visits. But she said they'd waive it, and that "It'd help the hospital" if they could charge it to private insurance. Darn it, I pay a bomb for this health insurance, against my will, so screw them - I handed over the card. Was asked all the usual questions - had I been fasting, was I allergic to anything.
Waiting, Part Two
Parked myself at the far end of a waiting room. Hospitals all have a slightly run down, used look, or maybe it's the "institutional" colors they paint all the walls, and crappy plastic chairs. The place was mighty clean any everything, but if you were looking at a place to rent that looked like this... I'd only we willing to pay a pretty low rent... Anyway, sad and read what parts of the Time magazine I'd brought with me that I hadn't already read.
Nurse Two
Was taken from waiting room one by a nurse to.... Waiting room Two, which I shall call the Blue waiting room. There were a number of other patients there, at least one of whom seemed pretty sick. He as having difficulty breathing. And seemed to know all the staff. Must have been a frequent flyer. Read more of my magazine. Another guy, big dude with tattoos all down his arms, had brought along his wife and two kids to keep him company. Weird.
The Professor
One of the specialists I see a great deal at the Alfred sleep Clinic is a Professor Belinda Miller. She came to visit with some of her entourage to tell me all about how they were going to put me on my CPAP machine that night. But because my nose would be stuffed with gauze, they'd have to give me a full face mask! More about that later.
Waiting, Part three
Waited. Watched some shitty television.
Doctor One
A doctor grabbed me from the blue waiting room. Well, actually, he might have been a surgeon, and explained what they were going to do with my nose. Asked me all the usual questions - had I been fasting, was I allergic to anything? I asked if he could do anything about the hairs which had started growing out of my nose, which I have been trimming because they make me look like an old, old man. He said if they got in the way, they'd get rid of them.
Waiting, Part Four
Back to the Blue Waiting Room
The Anaesthetist
A lovely anaesthetist lady grabbed me from the room again. I had to bags with me - every time I was summoned, I grabbed them hopefully, and dragged them along. No, she just wanted to ask me some questions - had I had a general anaesthetic before? Yes. Was I allergic to anything? No.
Then she asked if I was afraid if needles, and I said generally, no. I said I had a tattoo, she said the guy she'd just seen was covered in them, but was still afraid of needles! How does that work?
I told her about the arterial blood test I'd had last time I'd been at the hospital for a sleep study. That had hurt like hell - basically, they stick a needle straight down into your wrist, at the point where your hand joins your arm. Ouch. She said the arteries have more nerve endings that veins.
Then she popped a drip into my hand. She said "I might as well do this now. Let me know if you're going to faint." She slid a needle into the back of my left hand, then left a stent thing (sorry, not sure of the correct terms) in there, and taped it down with a rectangle of something sticky, then some tape to keep it in place. Then she pumped some saline solution into it to see if it worked, then sent me on my way.
Waiting, Part Five
Watched the eleven o'clock news on telly in the Blue Waiting room, to hear all I could about Rumsfeld. That warmed my heart.
Nurse Three
A nurse grabbed me and finally took me to a hospital bed. I'd expected to spend the whole day in one, but so far I was still in my street clothes. Popped me in a corner bed in a two bed room, and gave me a hospital gown to put on. So I whipped off all my clothes, and popped them in the cupboard, and put the gown on. Backwards, as it turned out. She came back and helped me swap it around. The ties go on the back, and it is the most undignified garment known to man. She asked me a few questions - was I allergic to anything? Checked again that the name and number on my arm tag matched the one on the file she was sending downstairs with me. Put another one on my ankle, just to make sure. Then she said "They're ready for you downstairs."
Have Bed, Will Travel
A little guy called John, who might have had an American accent, grabbed my bed and started manoeuvring it out of the room. A hospital bed is about as manoeuvrable as a shopping trolley. John seemed to know everyone on the floor, and joked with all of them as we went past. Eventually, we made it into a huge lift - me, John, a bed, and two other people. And ended up on a lower floor, where the theatres were.
Waiting, Part Six
They popped my in the recovery room. I said "I haven't got anything to recover from yet", they pointed out that they just use it for "storing" people.
Many Visitors
Several people came by while I lay there. A nurse went over my file, asked me some more questions. Was this my signature on the consent form? Yes. Was I allergic to anything? No. They then wondered if the form was still valid - I'd signed it back in January when I'd been put on the waiting list. She wandered off to check, but it must have been ok because she didn't come back. The anaesthetist came by a couple of times, and admired her handy work with the stent thing in my hand. She showed it off to some people, saying "Isn't that neat?" I suggested she take a photograph. Later she came by with her "boss" - presumably a more senior anaesthetist. I tried to make out what was happening with the other patients in the room, but I didn't have my glasses on so I couldn't really make anything out.
They fed me oxygen, which tasted funny and dry, and wasn't half as exciting as I'd have expected.
Theatre
Not long after, I was whisked from the Recovery room to the operating theatre. The wheeled me into the theatre, then helped me shuffle from my bed to the operating table. They asked me more questions - I made them all laugh by announcing that no, I wasn't allergic to anything. Fed me more oxygen.
The operating theatre was just like you see in movies etc. Big lights on arms, machines that go ping. And, oddly, a small window, looking out on the sky.
They peeled down my lovely hospital gown and attached electrodes to about six places on my upper body.
Going Under
My anaesthetist held the mask over my face and told me to breath deeply and slowly. Her boss, the other anaesthetist, started feeding something into the needle in my hand. He said "You'll probably feel cold across the top of your hand and arm" and indeed I did. The anaesthetist at my head said "Look straight up at me with your eyes open." I looked, felt a sensation not unlike the very early stages of going to sleep, then... nothing. No fade out, no slipping away, I was just out like a light.
Waking Up
Some two hours later (I figured out later) a voice said "Paul? You awake?" And I was - just. I was back in the recovery room, very groggy. I slowly woke up again, and was plugged into my CPAP machine, with a bizarre full-face mask. Usually I use just a nose mask, but with my nose out of action, they'd have to feed air pressure through my mouth. Which felt very weird - if I let it, it'd blow my cheeks out, like Louis Armstrong playing the trumpet! They also fed some oxygen through it, which still tasted very dry and funny. They also attached a drip to my hand, feeding me liquid.
Back Upstairs
After a while in the recovery room - no idea how long - I was pushed back upstairs. There was a patient jam at the lifts - at least five of us on beds waiting for lifts! I may have made some comment to this effect, but I was mumbling pretty badly.
Drip Drip Drip
Every now and again, someone would wander by with a machine on a stand which automatically measured my blood pressure and oxygen level. I started to predict its arrival, and lift my arm for the pressure cuff and offer a finger for the heartbeat/blood oxygen level thing.
A little while after I got back to my room, I was dozing and trying to guess the nationality of the lady in the next bed. She had her husband with her, but she hadn't been in the room when I'd been wheeled out, so I could only guess. They both spoke heavily accented English, which I picked as being eastern European, until I heard them chatting in fluent... Well, mandarin or Cantonese, I couldn't quite tell.
As the anaesthetic completely wore off, I developed the most splitting headache. My forehead ached, the back of my eyes ached, even my teeth ached! And my nose started bleeding a bit more seriously. So I pushed the buzzer to summon the nurse, for the first time. It's nice to have someone on call who cares a lot about you. She changed the bandage under my nose. In fact, I went through a lot of these, to the extent that one nurse asked if I'd been taking aspirin recently - it thins the blood - or came from a family of bleeders. I said no, and I also wasn't allergic to anything.
Somehow a whole bag of the saline drip, or whatever it is they feed into your veins had made it into my arm. Must have been nearly a litre. I watched it drip from the bag into a chamber, down a tube, into another chamber, and finally into my hand.
New Room
Around this point they decided to shift me to another room, to spare the lady in the next bed the sound of my CPAP machine and so they could keep a better eye on me, over near the nurses station. They also had to find all my crap that I'd left in the cupboards - my coat, my shoes etc. I don't travel light. One of the nurses disconnected me from the drip and capped the tubing with a "bung"! I'm sure it was a sterile plastic bung, but I thought it was funny at the time. So I spent the rest of my stay in the hospital with about ten centimetres of tubing dangling from the back of my left hand. Annoying.
The guy with the tattoos was in the bed diagonally opposite me. Turns out he'd had the same procedure for the same reason, and even had the same model CPAP machine! I'd have said hello, but I didn't have the breath.
It then transpired that I was allowed to use my mobile. Apparently it's only a problem if there are certain cardiac machines in use. So I had them bring it to me from the valuables stash where they'd been looking after it for me, and SMSed everyone I could think of who might be interested in my state.
The afternoon basically proceeded thus: Change gauze under my nose. Pop pain killers. Snooze with full face mask on. Eventually I got quite tired of it, the blood and the occasional pain. Wasn't much I could do about it though.
Dinner and a Girlfriend
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
evildoom_bunny turned up while I was trying to cope with dinner. I was very, very, very pleased to see her - everyone was terribly nice, but it was so lonely there. It was nice to see a familiar face.
They feed you early in hospital. My dinner turned up around 5pm, when I was in no state to eat it. So they held on to it till about 6.30pm. Even then, I couldn't quite handle it. I managed to eat a slice of bread, dipping it in the depressing broth I'd been given. I bled on the bread. I asked for some sandwiches, which I could barely handle. Evildoom bunny had to peel the crusts off them. I bled on them as well. Then I ate some pears and ice-cream, with blood.
But it'd been nearly twenty hours since I'd eaten anything. All morning I'd been saying mention that everything was fine, except I was a bit peckish. So it was nice to eat anything at all.
evildoom_bunny said I sounded groggy and a bit incoherent.
Hopping out of Bed
After a while, I sat up in bed, and made the miraculous three metre journey to the loo. At least I was well hydrated. And didn't have to pee in one of those things they give you to pee in when you're lying flat in bed!
Sleep
The rest of the evening, afterevildoom_bunny had left, proceeded much as the afternoon had - snoozing, bleeding from the nose, having blood pressure and temperature check every little while. Eventually I must have slept completely - I switched off the light, having tired of playing with the adjustable bed, and actually managed to sleep. I had a whole series of really bizarre half-dreams which I now can't recall.
Morning
I woke for the first time around 6am, and couldn't get back to sleep, mostly because the needle in the back of my hand was aching. This is normal apparently. Eventually, an ear, nose and throat person came by and pulled the most humongous piece of wadding from my nose. Seriously, the piece in each nostril must have been the size and length of my little finger - I have no idea how it all fitted in there! A while after that breakfast arrived, most of which I managed to wolf down, even the apple, which I had to cut into pieces. But it was food, damn it, I was still hungry.
Eventually, chatting to the nurse, I said "Can you take this thing out of my hand?" Which she did, what a relief. Apparently it's normal for it to ache. Then she said I could get dressed and leave whenever I wanted. I needed no more prompting - I pulled the curtain around and got clothes on as best I could and packed my gear. They described me as raring to go, but had to issue me with 1) spare gauze 2) strong pain killers 3) antibiotics 4) something to keep me regular - apparently the pain killers make you constipated. Nurses tell you everything. And 5) nasal spray - spray in your nose every four hours till it runs out. Eep.
Took the lift down stairs, metevildoom_bunny met me at the door, and I was out of there almost exactly 24 hours after I arrived.
10PM, the night before
I am a crazy bugger. The night before I was due to go in for surgery, I went to... the gym. I also had to fast from Midnight, so I had myself a huge snack of some cold roast chicken around 10.30, to tide me over!
Trams and Doors
For good or ill, I decided to take myself to the hospital by train and tram. It's probably one of the hardest journeys in Melbourne to get from Northcote to Prahran in the mornings - Punt road, for example, being the most direct route. So I packed my pyjamas and my teddy bear, er, I mean, my MP3 player, and hoped on the 8.03 limited express to Flinders street.
Of course, the tram I caught then almost ceased to function just outside flinders street - the front door was fried. I was juuuuust about to jump off at get into a cab - it was 8.43 by this stage, I had to check in at 9am - when miraculously the tram started moving again.
Waiting, Part One
Admissions was listed out the front as being on the second floor, although I'd been told over the phone to go to level three. So I tried level 2, only to be told by a sign that Admissions had moved to level 3... Finally figured I was in the right place, plonked myself down on a chair, and waited.
Nurse One
A nurse admitted me, asked for my medicare card, put a hospital band on my wrist, and asked if I had any private health insurance. I do, but it has a nasty excess on hospital visits. But she said they'd waive it, and that "It'd help the hospital" if they could charge it to private insurance. Darn it, I pay a bomb for this health insurance, against my will, so screw them - I handed over the card. Was asked all the usual questions - had I been fasting, was I allergic to anything.
Waiting, Part Two
Parked myself at the far end of a waiting room. Hospitals all have a slightly run down, used look, or maybe it's the "institutional" colors they paint all the walls, and crappy plastic chairs. The place was mighty clean any everything, but if you were looking at a place to rent that looked like this... I'd only we willing to pay a pretty low rent... Anyway, sad and read what parts of the Time magazine I'd brought with me that I hadn't already read.
Nurse Two
Was taken from waiting room one by a nurse to.... Waiting room Two, which I shall call the Blue waiting room. There were a number of other patients there, at least one of whom seemed pretty sick. He as having difficulty breathing. And seemed to know all the staff. Must have been a frequent flyer. Read more of my magazine. Another guy, big dude with tattoos all down his arms, had brought along his wife and two kids to keep him company. Weird.
The Professor
One of the specialists I see a great deal at the Alfred sleep Clinic is a Professor Belinda Miller. She came to visit with some of her entourage to tell me all about how they were going to put me on my CPAP machine that night. But because my nose would be stuffed with gauze, they'd have to give me a full face mask! More about that later.
Waiting, Part three
Waited. Watched some shitty television.
Doctor One
A doctor grabbed me from the blue waiting room. Well, actually, he might have been a surgeon, and explained what they were going to do with my nose. Asked me all the usual questions - had I been fasting, was I allergic to anything? I asked if he could do anything about the hairs which had started growing out of my nose, which I have been trimming because they make me look like an old, old man. He said if they got in the way, they'd get rid of them.
Waiting, Part Four
Back to the Blue Waiting Room
The Anaesthetist
A lovely anaesthetist lady grabbed me from the room again. I had to bags with me - every time I was summoned, I grabbed them hopefully, and dragged them along. No, she just wanted to ask me some questions - had I had a general anaesthetic before? Yes. Was I allergic to anything? No.
Then she asked if I was afraid if needles, and I said generally, no. I said I had a tattoo, she said the guy she'd just seen was covered in them, but was still afraid of needles! How does that work?
I told her about the arterial blood test I'd had last time I'd been at the hospital for a sleep study. That had hurt like hell - basically, they stick a needle straight down into your wrist, at the point where your hand joins your arm. Ouch. She said the arteries have more nerve endings that veins.
Then she popped a drip into my hand. She said "I might as well do this now. Let me know if you're going to faint." She slid a needle into the back of my left hand, then left a stent thing (sorry, not sure of the correct terms) in there, and taped it down with a rectangle of something sticky, then some tape to keep it in place. Then she pumped some saline solution into it to see if it worked, then sent me on my way.
Waiting, Part Five
Watched the eleven o'clock news on telly in the Blue Waiting room, to hear all I could about Rumsfeld. That warmed my heart.
Nurse Three
A nurse grabbed me and finally took me to a hospital bed. I'd expected to spend the whole day in one, but so far I was still in my street clothes. Popped me in a corner bed in a two bed room, and gave me a hospital gown to put on. So I whipped off all my clothes, and popped them in the cupboard, and put the gown on. Backwards, as it turned out. She came back and helped me swap it around. The ties go on the back, and it is the most undignified garment known to man. She asked me a few questions - was I allergic to anything? Checked again that the name and number on my arm tag matched the one on the file she was sending downstairs with me. Put another one on my ankle, just to make sure. Then she said "They're ready for you downstairs."
Have Bed, Will Travel
A little guy called John, who might have had an American accent, grabbed my bed and started manoeuvring it out of the room. A hospital bed is about as manoeuvrable as a shopping trolley. John seemed to know everyone on the floor, and joked with all of them as we went past. Eventually, we made it into a huge lift - me, John, a bed, and two other people. And ended up on a lower floor, where the theatres were.
Waiting, Part Six
They popped my in the recovery room. I said "I haven't got anything to recover from yet", they pointed out that they just use it for "storing" people.
Many Visitors
Several people came by while I lay there. A nurse went over my file, asked me some more questions. Was this my signature on the consent form? Yes. Was I allergic to anything? No. They then wondered if the form was still valid - I'd signed it back in January when I'd been put on the waiting list. She wandered off to check, but it must have been ok because she didn't come back. The anaesthetist came by a couple of times, and admired her handy work with the stent thing in my hand. She showed it off to some people, saying "Isn't that neat?" I suggested she take a photograph. Later she came by with her "boss" - presumably a more senior anaesthetist. I tried to make out what was happening with the other patients in the room, but I didn't have my glasses on so I couldn't really make anything out.
They fed me oxygen, which tasted funny and dry, and wasn't half as exciting as I'd have expected.
Theatre
Not long after, I was whisked from the Recovery room to the operating theatre. The wheeled me into the theatre, then helped me shuffle from my bed to the operating table. They asked me more questions - I made them all laugh by announcing that no, I wasn't allergic to anything. Fed me more oxygen.
The operating theatre was just like you see in movies etc. Big lights on arms, machines that go ping. And, oddly, a small window, looking out on the sky.
They peeled down my lovely hospital gown and attached electrodes to about six places on my upper body.
Going Under
My anaesthetist held the mask over my face and told me to breath deeply and slowly. Her boss, the other anaesthetist, started feeding something into the needle in my hand. He said "You'll probably feel cold across the top of your hand and arm" and indeed I did. The anaesthetist at my head said "Look straight up at me with your eyes open." I looked, felt a sensation not unlike the very early stages of going to sleep, then... nothing. No fade out, no slipping away, I was just out like a light.
Waking Up
Some two hours later (I figured out later) a voice said "Paul? You awake?" And I was - just. I was back in the recovery room, very groggy. I slowly woke up again, and was plugged into my CPAP machine, with a bizarre full-face mask. Usually I use just a nose mask, but with my nose out of action, they'd have to feed air pressure through my mouth. Which felt very weird - if I let it, it'd blow my cheeks out, like Louis Armstrong playing the trumpet! They also fed some oxygen through it, which still tasted very dry and funny. They also attached a drip to my hand, feeding me liquid.
Back Upstairs
After a while in the recovery room - no idea how long - I was pushed back upstairs. There was a patient jam at the lifts - at least five of us on beds waiting for lifts! I may have made some comment to this effect, but I was mumbling pretty badly.
Drip Drip Drip
Every now and again, someone would wander by with a machine on a stand which automatically measured my blood pressure and oxygen level. I started to predict its arrival, and lift my arm for the pressure cuff and offer a finger for the heartbeat/blood oxygen level thing.
A little while after I got back to my room, I was dozing and trying to guess the nationality of the lady in the next bed. She had her husband with her, but she hadn't been in the room when I'd been wheeled out, so I could only guess. They both spoke heavily accented English, which I picked as being eastern European, until I heard them chatting in fluent... Well, mandarin or Cantonese, I couldn't quite tell.
As the anaesthetic completely wore off, I developed the most splitting headache. My forehead ached, the back of my eyes ached, even my teeth ached! And my nose started bleeding a bit more seriously. So I pushed the buzzer to summon the nurse, for the first time. It's nice to have someone on call who cares a lot about you. She changed the bandage under my nose. In fact, I went through a lot of these, to the extent that one nurse asked if I'd been taking aspirin recently - it thins the blood - or came from a family of bleeders. I said no, and I also wasn't allergic to anything.
Somehow a whole bag of the saline drip, or whatever it is they feed into your veins had made it into my arm. Must have been nearly a litre. I watched it drip from the bag into a chamber, down a tube, into another chamber, and finally into my hand.
New Room
Around this point they decided to shift me to another room, to spare the lady in the next bed the sound of my CPAP machine and so they could keep a better eye on me, over near the nurses station. They also had to find all my crap that I'd left in the cupboards - my coat, my shoes etc. I don't travel light. One of the nurses disconnected me from the drip and capped the tubing with a "bung"! I'm sure it was a sterile plastic bung, but I thought it was funny at the time. So I spent the rest of my stay in the hospital with about ten centimetres of tubing dangling from the back of my left hand. Annoying.
The guy with the tattoos was in the bed diagonally opposite me. Turns out he'd had the same procedure for the same reason, and even had the same model CPAP machine! I'd have said hello, but I didn't have the breath.
It then transpired that I was allowed to use my mobile. Apparently it's only a problem if there are certain cardiac machines in use. So I had them bring it to me from the valuables stash where they'd been looking after it for me, and SMSed everyone I could think of who might be interested in my state.
The afternoon basically proceeded thus: Change gauze under my nose. Pop pain killers. Snooze with full face mask on. Eventually I got quite tired of it, the blood and the occasional pain. Wasn't much I could do about it though.
Dinner and a Girlfriend
evildoom_bunny turned up while I was trying to cope with dinner. I was very, very, very pleased to see her - everyone was terribly nice, but it was so lonely there. It was nice to see a familiar face.They feed you early in hospital. My dinner turned up around 5pm, when I was in no state to eat it. So they held on to it till about 6.30pm. Even then, I couldn't quite handle it. I managed to eat a slice of bread, dipping it in the depressing broth I'd been given. I bled on the bread. I asked for some sandwiches, which I could barely handle. Evildoom bunny had to peel the crusts off them. I bled on them as well. Then I ate some pears and ice-cream, with blood.
But it'd been nearly twenty hours since I'd eaten anything. All morning I'd been saying mention that everything was fine, except I was a bit peckish. So it was nice to eat anything at all.
evildoom_bunny said I sounded groggy and a bit incoherent.Hopping out of Bed
After a while, I sat up in bed, and made the miraculous three metre journey to the loo. At least I was well hydrated. And didn't have to pee in one of those things they give you to pee in when you're lying flat in bed!
Sleep
The rest of the evening, after
evildoom_bunny had left, proceeded much as the afternoon had - snoozing, bleeding from the nose, having blood pressure and temperature check every little while. Eventually I must have slept completely - I switched off the light, having tired of playing with the adjustable bed, and actually managed to sleep. I had a whole series of really bizarre half-dreams which I now can't recall.Morning
I woke for the first time around 6am, and couldn't get back to sleep, mostly because the needle in the back of my hand was aching. This is normal apparently. Eventually, an ear, nose and throat person came by and pulled the most humongous piece of wadding from my nose. Seriously, the piece in each nostril must have been the size and length of my little finger - I have no idea how it all fitted in there! A while after that breakfast arrived, most of which I managed to wolf down, even the apple, which I had to cut into pieces. But it was food, damn it, I was still hungry.
Eventually, chatting to the nurse, I said "Can you take this thing out of my hand?" Which she did, what a relief. Apparently it's normal for it to ache. Then she said I could get dressed and leave whenever I wanted. I needed no more prompting - I pulled the curtain around and got clothes on as best I could and packed my gear. They described me as raring to go, but had to issue me with 1) spare gauze 2) strong pain killers 3) antibiotics 4) something to keep me regular - apparently the pain killers make you constipated. Nurses tell you everything. And 5) nasal spray - spray in your nose every four hours till it runs out. Eep.
Took the lift down stairs, met
evildoom_bunny met me at the door, and I was out of there almost exactly 24 hours after I arrived.
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no subject
Date: 2006-11-15 03:33 am (UTC)Little-fingers of gauze don't surprise me.... you know that thing that some freak-shows do.... where they put spoons in their nose? Or tap nails in there? I can do that... there's like a slit with flaps in the nose, flaps which lead through to the nasal cavity - kind of inside the skull.. or at least, more inside the skull than the nose is.
Glad you're free to roam!