Just got back. Was running a fever and bad chills for a few days; thought it was the flu at first until I wised up and went to the hospital. Turns out I could have died on the first day, as these things go, so I definitely lucked out.
Having no point of reference, it all went better than I expected (and far better than is normal, apparently); I was expecting to languish under the crappy glow of fluorescent lighting (better for institutional observation, I imagine) for at least another two days; for while the surgeon said the rupture was not so much a gnarly splatter as it was a civilised little poot and cleanup by laparoscopy was a snap, still of course one can't be too sure, and quite rightly no one was making promises. But today my handlers authorised my diet from all-liquid to anything-goes, and when the surgeon's partner stopped by and saw me narfing on the Subway sandwich a visitor had brought, he (with a dark you-cannot-be-entirely-human look on his face) said, "Yer outta here as of now." My smile broke the sound barrier.
So that's five days walking around (plus playing a gig) in my condition before the hospital, and bouncing back after only three days in care. I think I might have broken some records, here. A friend said that the U should definitely study me. They haven't called.
I think my favorite moment was when I came out of anesthesia: Suddenly out of nothingness I saw a small crowd of women's faces capped and uniformed in blue, one up close and the rest back further, all staring and surrounding and coming at me like alien abductors and asking muffled questions in some language, and I was waving them away saying, "Where am I? Who are you people?"
Thanks for the kind thoughts and wishes, everyone. That's one thing I know for sure I won't ever have to do again.
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