A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To The Operation

A few things crossed my mind in the run-up to, during & after my operation. During the pre-op examine, when my doctor & I were still wondering what we'd do & how we'd do it, I had to hop up onto the olde exam table for a quick peek. I resisted the urge to mention it's customary to offer a meal and a few drinks before a woman's expected to flash all. I couldn't resist the urge to point out that gyn exams always make me want to sing "Back in the Saddle Again".

Before I got wheeled in to be carved like a christmas goose, the anesthesiologist stopped by. He kept talking to me about nothing in particular, all the while shaking these little bottles. Every so often he'd put one of them into the IV in my arm. I kept wondering if he thought he was fooling me by chatting me up as he put narcotic shit in my arm. I barely recall him leaving and next thing I know I wake up 7 hours later, in a strange room, with my legs being massaged by some mechanised booties that went from ankle to thigh. It's like classic bing drinking moment minus hookers & 12 bottles of scotch. Wasn't this an ABC afterschool special?

There's even more inappropriate humour in recovery but I'll spare you all that for now, except for these little words: friction itch. Time for my nap.