So long, little pins; we hardly knew ya

Today the little metal pins came out of my finger. The logistics were the same as the insertion procedure: No food or water for six hours ahead. Happy drugs feeding into the right IV. Tournequet on the left arm. Nasty numbing drug in the left IV that for about 15 seconds feels - and I am not exaggerating - like your hand has been dunked into scalding water. Why, why would something designed to reduce pain first cause so much of it? And then they apparently deliver the knockout punch in the form of a big fat needle into the nerve at the base of your finger, but by then the scalding-numbing drugs and the happy drugs have done their jobs and you either feel nothing, or don't give a crap, or both.

Then they do stuff. Then all of a sudden they tell you it's over, and give you very important after-care instructions, from a very great distance, while you nod your head and think, "this is probably important, but somehow I just can't make myself care."

When they put the pins in, they went heavy on the numbing - and I mean heavy, because I felt absolutely zip in that finger for 24 full hours - but the happy drugs didn't seem that intense. I was aware of not feeling anxious, but I didn't feel noticeably psychically altered.

This time, it was the exact opposite. Clearly they didn't need as much numbing, since they were simply sliding the pins out of my nearly-healed bones instead of drilling them into my freshly broken ones. But the happy drugs? Oh my, this new aenesthesiologist really outdid himself on that front. Wow, was I ever stoned.

So I decided the obvious thing to do while chemically deprived of the ability to care would be to call tech support for a really tenacious and annoying computer problem. It was perfect. Ninety minutes later - problem solved without the slightest irritation, and only floaty, dream-like memories of the entire experience.

But it's all worn off now, which is good because I still have SO much work. Poor Enrico is basically on his own, as I worked straight through the weekend. My billable commitment for the month somehow grew, from 96 to 102 hours - I KNOW, how the heck did that happen? 48 down, 54 to go.