I’m the prick? You’re the prick.

Part of the joy of cancer (along with the money saved on haircuts) is the testing process. Nothing better than getting pricked more times than Madonna at an NBA shoot-around.

It appears that all kinds of nurses want to prick my body when in fact, it should be the other way around.

You got your blood work prick prior to surgery …
You got your operation day prick for the IV (pronounce ‘ivy’, not ‘four’ dumbass) …
You got your recovery room prick for whatever …
You got your blood work prick again for further testing based on what they pulled out of you from the operation …
You got your prick when they dig to pull the stitches out …
You got your PET Scan prick when they make you radioactive …

… goddamn fucking prick fucking bastards.

But ranking right up there on the pain meter is the Bone Marrow pricking/extraction. This is something right out of the health care Stone Ages. The medical profession is doing robotic brain surgery and full heart/lung transplants. They have separated conjoined twins fused at the head and have mapped the entire human DNA.

But yet, while I’m fully awake, they still have to drill directly into my hip bone and extract bone marrow … with only numbing the skin.

To me, that sounds like something you read about from the Civil War era – “Boys, hold the Colonel down good, we gonna have to saw off that left leg”.

Instead of funding shit for Restless Leg Syndrome or another study that cigarettes kill, some enterprising fuck might want to get a Federal Grant to figure out a way of getting bone marrow out of bones without the patient having to be held down.

And to make the thing even worse, through all my gyrations during the procedure, I didn’t get any elbow-tit on the nurse.

Shit.