Surg-iversary, or Ode to an Excised Appendix

As I rode the elevator of the GWU Medical Faculty Associates clinic building this morning, en route to a follow-up appointment with my sweet, sweet angel of a dermy (also known as the Patron Saint of Flawless Skin), I realized that exactly one year ago this afternoon, I was doped up and laid out on the surgical table just one block away. In honor of the occasion, I'd like to say a few words.

To my inflamed appendix... for tormenting me with eight years of unexplained recurring stomachaches (which I haven't had since we parted ways), for wrapping your vile self up in my intestines and causing me to drive myself to the ER at 3am, and for ruining my father's birthday: I hope you're rotting in hell, you toxic piece of shit.

To Dr. Bruce Abell... for excising that evil drain on my well-being, for doing it all laproscopic-style with a video camera all up in my abdomen, and for leaving me nearly scar-less: You are a badass. I am eternally grateful.

To all the hot lady med students at the GW hospital's ER... for putting the cast of Grey's Anatomy to shame, and for bringing me ice chips and morphine whenever I said "boo": I thank you. And DAMN!

To my friends... for reading me issues of Cosmo while waiting for the anesthesiologist, for telling me I look good naked after I failed to change into my OR gown in a modest fashion, and for giving my parents updates while eating Chick-fil-A in the OR's waiting room: You guys rock. I couldn't ask for more thoughtful and caring friends.

To Adam... for visiting me multiple times to sit with me on my hospital bed and hold my hand, for taking charge and tracking down nurses to find out why I had to wait so long for the cat scan, and for promising never again to fly to Iraq hours after I have surgery: You are going to be the best husband of all time. I love you so much.

Last, but certainly not least, to my dad... for canceling a romantic birthday getaway in Napa to wait by the phone in case my friends called with updates (and mouthfuls of Chick-fil-A): I hope you have the best birthday ever this year, like two birthdays rolled into one. May it be filled not with parental concern, but rather with cocktails, a restaurant dinner, and cake. Or pie. It's really your call.