I was recently out-of-pocket, incommunicado, out-to-lunch.

Vacation, you ask? No such luck. I was in the hospital for 11 days. Talk about a life-changing event. It felt especially long since I was expected to be there for seven hours. I felt as if I'd won the "Get Out of Jail Free" card in Monopoly when I was finally discharged. I certainly earned it.

The routine heart procedure I elected to have was to determine the cause of my ongoing heart palpitations. During the procedure, my lung was punctured and while in recovery I started coughing and noticed I had chest pain. My first of about 35 X-rays determined that my lung was collapsing. A small chest tube was inserted into my pleura cavity, which was attached to a portable machine that gently sucked the air out to allow my lung to re-expand.

Ask me anything about lungs. I am now an expert and can spot trapped air on an X-ray in less than three seconds. The old game show, "Name that Tune" has nothing on me. I can spot trapped lung air faster than you can recall the first three notes to any Captain & Tennille tune. Queen of the Lungs, that's me. My lung talent also includes being able to feel when my lung is collapsing. It's a gift; what can I say? I think I'm going to start holding workshops to teach others the fine art of spotting the signs of a collapsed lung. Why should I keep all this talent to myself?

And because of the number of X-rays I've had, I now glow in the dark. If we lose electricity in the next few days, I will be able to light up the house without the aid of flashlights or candles.

If the first chest tube procedure wasn't enough pain, they decided I needed a larger chest tube two days after they inserted the first one. Yippee, another procedure! Let me tell you that this pain far exceeds that of a c-section. Although "they" say we humans forget pain, this human will never ever forget the pain of chest tube insertion. By the way, in case you are thinking of having a chest tube inserted into your own lung, let me inform you that you are wide awake for this procedure. It's worse than pain; it's more like torture. What century is this anyway?

Sadly, during this time John was forced to stay in the hospital for five days to oversee my return to the Land of the Living. My lung re-collapsed repeatedly over the first five days for a variety of reasons. The tube kinked on itself and no one noticed. One of the nurses cut off suction prematurely after my second chest tube procedure and my lung began to collapse yet again. Not enough time to heal made Michelle a very grumpy patient.

Finally, five days after my admittance, my care was shifted to the Thoracic Team and six days later, I was discharged. The only reason I did not run screaming from the building is because I had no strength to run. Nevertheless, I was very grateful to walk out on my own two feet.

On my one-week anniversary of admittance, my sense of humor returned. I realized that regardless of everything I own and everyone I love, the thing I cherish most is my sense of humor. Gaining it back was a huge turning point. I renamed my Pleur-Evac machine my Construction Worker's Lunchbox. I considered walking down to the mental health wing and admitting myself. I stopped the pain meds so I could re-engage in reality and halt my drug-induced stupor, although the drug-induced stupor certainly had its advantages. Laughter really was my best medicine. I decided I was the star of my own Twilight Zone episode.

I realized I was going completely bonkers when one morning while watching Regis and Kelly I found myself smiling at the television. I was actually smiling at the little people on television. I don't normally watch daytime T.V., but I found myself riveted by what the ladies of "The View" had to say. The sound on my television was marginal, so I watched the movie Wild Hogs about eight times with no sound. Memories; I've got plenty of them.

On a more serious note, I am so grateful for the outpouring of love and kindness I received from family and friends. You learn who really cares when you go into family crisis. Thank you to Marlene and Dave and Kim and Pat for adopting Alex. We loaned our son to friends who all have very busy lives and children of their own. Knowing Alex was in excellent hands, John and I were able to focus on my health. Per usual, John dropped everything and was my champion. I told John that if he sees me standing around with my innards hanging out, to just shove them back in. No more hospitals and no more procedures.

The next time I'm in New York City, I'll have to stop by and thank Regis & Kelly for their snappy repartee. I counted on theirs when I wasn't well enough to have my own.

E-mail Michelle Potocko at theconsciousmother@gmail.com.

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