Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Sleeping with the Frenemy

My anesthesiologist absolutely rocked my world. Not only did he give me happy juice before they sliced and diced me, but he made sure the cocktail he gave me didn’t make me nauseous when I woke up from surgery. He had a nice smile, and a pleasant sense of humor, and he told me the greatest story the day after my surgery. He came in to check on me after the morning of my surgery to see how I was doing.

Anesthesiologist: How are you doing today?

Me: I’m good and you are AMAZING!

Anesthesiologist: That is because you are AMAZING! (See, he knows this already, and this is why we bonded)

Me: I haven’t had any nausea and I don’t know how you did it, but I am totally sending you a Christmas card.

Anesthesiologist: *laughs uncomfortably* So, what is the last thing you remember before surgery?

Me: You telling me you are giving me “happy juice” and me telling you I *heart* happy juice and then I floated off to never, never land where I was the Queen of Sheba and you were all my minions.

Anesthesiologist: You don’t remember the ride to the OR? Or anything about the surgery?

Me: Not at all. Was I awake or something during the surgery? Are you afraid I might sue? Because I can totally come up with false memories like no other.

Anesthesiologist: Not at all. But you were able to get onto the surgical table by yourself, and you were talking to the nurses about your tattoos because they all loved them, and you were telling us all about your kids. You were speaking in full sentences and making total sense.

Me: Damn, I even rock when I am subconsciously unconscious.

Anesthesiologist: Indeed you do.

My awesomeness is now exceeding the limits of rural Perry. How cool is that? If those aren’t the skillz of a true ninja, I don’t know what are.

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