Reading about Velocidaughter’s recent knee surgery, I was pleased to hear that things went smoothly (you go, girl!) - and I got a chuckle out of this line:
“My kid still thinks I'm the Bomb. Of course, she still had morphine in her veins when she told me that.”
It’s amazing what dat ol’ morphine will do.
My own experiences with anesthesia have all been within the last three years, as it was not until then that I ever had any kind of surgery. And then suddenly, it was the Year of the Probe and Knife.
Every one of my Major Orifices either had a knife or a tube stuck in it within a one-year period. Sounds horrifying, but thanks to the Miracle of Modern Anesthesia, none of it bothered me one tiny bit.
The first time, I was having a problem of long standing corrected: my deviated nasal septum. It was a great and good thing to have done, as now I can actually breathe through that Honker in the Middle of My Face, but I was a tad nervous as I lay on the operating table. Not for long. Once they shot that bolus of Versed into my IV, the next thing I knew, I was dressed and ready to roll out the door. Holy Crap!
The second time, it was for that Procedure Dreaded by Old Goats Such As Me: the evil Colonoscopy.
During the procedure - all of this taking place while I was blissfully unconscious - they inflate the bowel with air to facilitate the Shoving of the Fifty-Foot Long Fire Hose up there. And that air has got to be...removed...before the patient can go home.
Well, this all took place while I was Completely Out Of It...but, apparently, not Out Of It enough to keep me from blithering like a fucking idiot. It's reported that, as they wheeled me out of the procedure room and the first Great Blasts of Flatus were being expelled, I asked, “Am I gonna leave a vapor trail?”
She Who Must Be Obeyed heard it. The nurse heard it. Everybody heard it...and cracked up.
And, for the life of me, I cannot remember saying it.
Anesthesia: Better than Dope!
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