I Had Chocolate Cake For Breakfast

I had chocolate cake for breakfast today. So, there you have it. It’s done and can’t be undone. So what? If you want to chastise me, have at it.

I’m not the first to have chocolate cake for breakfast. From eons ago I remember that Bill Cosby fed his kids chocolate cake for breakfast. Mr. Cosby rightly points out that chocolate cake has milk, eggs and wheat. No one can deny that these are healthy ingredients. So it’s good for you. I had chocolate cake for breakfast today.

A couple of weeks ago I went to the cardiologist and told him that I might be having chest pains again when I ride my bike. So he scheduled a chemical stress test. They give you a chemical stress when they think you can’t walk on a treadmill for a long enough period of time. They inject a Dr. Frankenstein developed chemical into your body and for a few minutes you are sure that you are going to die and then you become fearful that you won’t die. A couple of days later I got a call from a young lady telling me that I didn’t do well with the stress test and she had scheduled me for a heart cath on the 15th. I told her that I was busy on that day and I wanted to ride my bike in the warm days of spring, but she insisted that I come to Mother Frances Hospital at 6:00 am. I told her that I’ll still be sleeping at 6:00 am, but again, she insisted.

So yesterday I got up at 4:00 am and begin the preparation for a heart cath. Its an hour drive from my house to the hospital and I arrived at the hospital before valet parking and had to park myself. I walked some distance to admissions and then I’m put into a wheel chair big enough to hold three of me. I felt like Lily Tomlin in her big rocking chair. I’m wheeled out from admissions and told by this very chatty lady that I’m being taken to pre-op.

I’m in pre-op at 6:20 where they strip me naked, shave me in places not meant to be shaven, punctured my body in various places extracting blood and injecting other chemicals to make me relax or so she said. I ask her if it was the same herb as we used to put in brownies; she giggled and explained it worked in much the same way. I told her to just give me one of those warm blankets and I’ll relax. Man they keep that place cold.

I was then laid on my back and didn’t move for the next 10 hours. They wheeled this bed to the most frigid side of the North Pole, took away my warm blanket and slid me over on a stainless steel table with icicles hanging from it. I’m telling this guy as he swabs a gallon of alcohol between my legs that I’m not relaxed anymore. I told the nurse that he looked like he was enjoying it. He smiled and replied that he gave up holiday pay to do this everyday. A lady walked up behind me, stuck a rubber hose up my nose, bent over and in a satanic tone whispered in my ear that she needed me to breathe deeply for awhile. The rest of it went somewhat better as I breathed deeply and watched the doctor yank and pull and push this long wire from my groan, through my body and into my heart. I watched the overhead monitor as the dye was pumped from my heart and talked with the doctor as he pointed out the cause of my most recent chest pains. There was some brief chest pain as he expanded a stent in the area of concern and he told me I would feel better and ride faster now. I’m looking forward to that.

After surgery, I was placed in a recovery room and told not to move my legs under any circumstances. Really now, would’en you at least check to make sure they still worked. At first I just wiggled my toes on the left foot. That’s the side they didn’t go through my groan. Then I wiggled my left foot. All working. Then bounce my left knee up and down. Yep, OK. Then I wiggle my toes on my right foot and Sargent Rude Nurse yells out the order again not to move my legs.

I’ve been on my back now for an hour and a half and Sargent Rude Nurse walks around to the operating side of my bed and asked if I would like to have my tube removed now. NO! I don’t want my tube removed. She then pushed back the covers, placed her hand on my groan and pulled this tube from my groan. I had to look twice to make sure I was still there. She then covered my groan with a big wad of gauze and launched her entire 260 pounds onto this one small spot on my groan and held it there for a full 5 minutes. This is one of the same spots that the judo guys use to make you scream for help from Heaven. She finally released her grip and I ask in a weak voice if it was about time for me to go home. She said sure, just another 6 hours on your back and DON’T move your leg.

After seven and a half torturous hours of laying on my back in the recovery room I was released from the hospital. On my release I was given several instructions, one of which was not to lift anything over 3 pounds for the next 3 days. A gallon of milk weights 7 plus pounds. If I make oatmeal I use milk, likewise in cereal. I can’t pick up the milk because it is too heavy. That’s when I spot the chocolate cake on the cake pedestal under the glass cover.

I had chocolate cake for breakfast today.

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One response to “I Had Chocolate Cake For Breakfast

  1. glad things went well. By the title, I was going to say, but you never let us have chocolate cake for breakfast! And so typical child overreacts to how they were raised, I fed my kids ice cream for supper last night 🙂

    (this was funny, Dad!)

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