PEE AY

Bad Joo feels it is appropriate, since Good Joo brought it up, to recount the tale of the BAD MOTHERFECKING PA. So there they were, Bad Joo and the Incision. Ten hours post op. Attempting to work out a plan to get the Incision out o' dee hostible. This is trickier than one might think, because THE INCISION IS ALLERGIC TO EVERY PAIN RELIEVER KNOWN TO MAN, INCLUDING CERTAIN NATIVE AMERICAN DANCES AND ELVEN SPELLS. So,

Step 1 (cut a hole in the box). The hostible surgical team took the Incision off the IV pain meds that had heretofore been working just dandy, thank you very much.

Step 2 the hostible surgical team assembled a "hot list" of oral pain medications to TRY on the Incision, so it could leave the hostible. Attentive Internettes will have figured out that the Incision and BJ planned to and in fact flew home from the hostible 36 hours post op.

Step 3 the hostible surgical team started the Incision on drug one of the hot list.

Step 4 the Incision began writhing in pain.

Step 5 Bad Joo politely asked the nurse to page the surgical team and ask them to try drug 2 on the hot list. Here's where the plan went awry, and the PEE TO THE EFFING AY CAME IN. The nurse paged him instead. Don't ask the Joo why.

Apparently this Pee Ay was some sort of bad motherfecking warrior, because as he approached, the nurse in very reverent tones announced, "He's here. The P.A. is ON THE FLOOR." The Joos believe that "on the floor" in hostible speak is the equivalent to "In Da House" in 1990 hip hop speak, for the Pee Ay arrived shortly thereafter looking as if he believed he deserved an Arsenio whoop whoop for his speedy (read: thirty minute) arrival time.

Maybe Bad Joo was suffering from lack of sleep, but Bad Joo believes that she very politely asked that the PEE ARSE switch the oral pain meds to another option in order to try to attempt some better pain control, so she could take the Incision home. At which point, the Pee Arse Fecker launched into a completely irrelevant and idiotic tirade:

P. Arse: You know, I can switch her to something else, but it's not going to work. Dilaudid is sixteen gajillion times stronger than any other drug known to man, so your mother is going to suffer needlessly forever and ever, because there is nothing left to do.

BJ: Um, I believe the surgical team had mentioned trying Percocet next?

P. Arsehole: Ah, yeah, but that's not as strong as Dilaudid.

BJ: Um, you said that, but I think we need to try something else, because the Dilaudid isn't working.

Insert the Incision screaming, "FIFTEEN OUT OF TEN. MY PAIN IS AT A FIFTEEN OUT OF TEN. I'M TRYING TO BE BRAVE, BUT I AM DYING OF OUT OF CONTROL POST OPERATIVE PAIN."

P. Arsewipe: Well, I'll try whatever you want, but this was just soft tissue surgery, so she shouldn't be in this much pain. You know, if you're really insistent, we can keep her another night...

The conversation went on, but the Bad Joo has flames coming out of her fingers just from typing up a partial transcript of this encounter, so she believes it would be best to stop there. Suffice it to say that eventually the pain was controlled, and the Incision was able to go home. In the meantime, Bad Joo had to get even with the Pee Track Mark's tirade about the Incision's pain levels by walking mall-like loops around the floor, passive aggressively muttering "small dick" and "arse fuck" not so quietly under her breath.

The moral of the story? IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO HELP PEOPLE WHO ARE RECOVERING FROM SURGERY, DO NOT GET A P.A. DEGREE AND GAIN EMPLOYMENT IN THE SURGICAL WING OF A HOSPITAL. Jagoff.