My cleaning lady is awesome. Seriously, I wouldn't trade her for the world. Not only does she clean my house, she knows where my gun and all my adult toys are hidden. You HAVE to trust a lady with that kind of information about you. She did suggest that keeping the economy size box of condoms in the same drawer with a loaded Glock might send the wrong message to overnight gentleman callers. I pointed out that the guys I bring home usually don't qualify as "gentlemen" anyway.
Last week I was at work when I get a phone call from the anesthesiologist responsible for "putting me down" before the foot surgery I had scheduled for that Friday. He said, "I'm calling do your pre-op questions but I tried calling your house first and some lady answered the phone screaming, maybe you should call home and check on her."
I was immediately concerned. "Screaming? Screaming what?"
He responded, "Well, there was a lot of noise, sounded like sirens almost, in the background and she answered the phone yelling stuff like 'I'm the cleaning lady, don't call the cops' and something about a password and Dr. Seuss. It was all very confusing."
I asked him if I could call home and then call him back.
Turns out my cleaning lady accidentally set my alarm off when she came in. When she tried to disarm it again to stop the noise, it didn't work. So, the phone rang and she assumed it was the alarm company but when she answered, she couldn't hear the person on the other end of the line and so she just started yelling, "I'm the cleaning lady, don't call the cops. The password is Dr. Seuss, the password is Dr. Seuss."
She finally got the alarm off, the alarm company called my cell with the same story about a lady yelling about Dr Seuss and don't call the cops. I explained. The police call was canceled. My cleaning lady was given permission to partake in the bottle of vodka on the counter. And I called the anesthesiologist back. His first question, "Who's driving you to surgery Friday, it's not your cleaning lady is it?"
Note: my password isn't actually "Dr. Seuss" (I just used that for the blog post) but the real password is equally ridiculous.
Showing posts with label anesthesia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label anesthesia. Show all posts
Friday, October 22, 2010
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Mr. Damn-Good-Job
I have to preface this by saying that I’ve been under anesthesia. I signed paperwork stating that I would not change my will today, I would not drive a vehicle today, I would not operate heavy machinery today, and I would not enter into any legally binding agreements. However, I signed nothing stating that said I would not use the computer to express my opinions which means I am free to make as big of a public ass of myself as I wish – that is assuming this blog has an “audience” which I admit, is a little egotistical and perhaps a bit of wishful thinking.
My point is that I’m free to make an ass of myself to the four of you reading this and the hundreds of millions of you that might inadvertently stumble upon it and skim it out of boredom or morbid curiosity.
Anyway, I didn’t want to put this off until I’ve shaken the cobwebs of anesthesia and pain medication from my head. This is partly because I like the feeling and partly because I plan to continue to take the pain medication in an attempt to avoid pain and that returning sense of reality that can be such a downer. However, the main reason is because I don’t want to delay praise where praise is due in case Mr. Damn ever happens to be one of the lucky ones to find this page (no, to the best of my knowledge, he does not know this blog exists). He deserves for me to tell all of you that he did something really right today and made me really happy.
I’ve been dreading this surgery for a while even though it had to be done. It’s minor surgery and I’ve had it before and it’s just on my foot but I’ve had some really really horrible experiences in hospital operating rooms so walking into the pre-op area and finding myself surrounded by all those smells and sights and sounds brings that anxiety rushing back. I’d rather they come outside and knock me unconscious in the parking lot and THEN wheel me into the hospital but I’ve never managed to get a doctor to agree to it. However, they are well aware of my anxiety and had the syringe of happy drugs waiting for me so all they had to do was ask the main questions, find a vein and off to feeling drunk I went until they were ready for me. But the build-up over the last couple days was kind of brutal. I just hate operating rooms.
Well, as discussed in previous blog posts, Mr. Damn has been out of pocket and so I assumed that since I hadn’t heard from him when I went to bed last night that I wasn’t going to hear from him prior to going under the knife. I accepted this as just one of those things I cannot change and something I was not going to be upset about but if I really admitted it to myself, I really wanted him to call me to tell me he was thinking about me. However, most of the time, it’s not that he doesn’t want to call, it’s that location or time zones or job description prevents it (what, you mean my blackberry doesn’t work in every single corner of the globe????). I put myself to bed and tried to sleep but I dreamed some crazy dreams and woke up about 4:45am and lay awake staring at the clock and at 4:58, my cell phone rang.
Mr. Damn came through for me. He was finally in a location where he could phone me and he did remember and I was so relieved and elated to hear his voice even at that absurd hour (and I didn’t even have to lie about him not waking me – go figure). So I just wanted you guys to know that even though I tend to blog about things I’m angry or frustrated about, it’s the moments like this when he comes through for me that are the reason he still has my heart.
So, Kudos today to Mr. Damn for making it a lot easier to walk into that hospital this morning knowing he was thinking about me.
And Kudos to the Anesthesiologist for giving me this nice buzz, I have a soft spot in my heart for you too. And whoever shot up my foot with so much local anesthetic that I can’t feel a damn thing, kudos to you too. You did this last time and let me enjoy anesthesia day to the fullest. I know tomorrow I’ll be in a world of hurt but thanks for helping me enjoy my mind-trip.
Signing-off --- this may be the only day I’ve ever kind of wished I had the NASA channel so I could just watch the stars. I’m sure I can find an appropriate mindless substitute on daytime TV.
My point is that I’m free to make an ass of myself to the four of you reading this and the hundreds of millions of you that might inadvertently stumble upon it and skim it out of boredom or morbid curiosity.
Anyway, I didn’t want to put this off until I’ve shaken the cobwebs of anesthesia and pain medication from my head. This is partly because I like the feeling and partly because I plan to continue to take the pain medication in an attempt to avoid pain and that returning sense of reality that can be such a downer. However, the main reason is because I don’t want to delay praise where praise is due in case Mr. Damn ever happens to be one of the lucky ones to find this page (no, to the best of my knowledge, he does not know this blog exists). He deserves for me to tell all of you that he did something really right today and made me really happy.
I’ve been dreading this surgery for a while even though it had to be done. It’s minor surgery and I’ve had it before and it’s just on my foot but I’ve had some really really horrible experiences in hospital operating rooms so walking into the pre-op area and finding myself surrounded by all those smells and sights and sounds brings that anxiety rushing back. I’d rather they come outside and knock me unconscious in the parking lot and THEN wheel me into the hospital but I’ve never managed to get a doctor to agree to it. However, they are well aware of my anxiety and had the syringe of happy drugs waiting for me so all they had to do was ask the main questions, find a vein and off to feeling drunk I went until they were ready for me. But the build-up over the last couple days was kind of brutal. I just hate operating rooms.
Well, as discussed in previous blog posts, Mr. Damn has been out of pocket and so I assumed that since I hadn’t heard from him when I went to bed last night that I wasn’t going to hear from him prior to going under the knife. I accepted this as just one of those things I cannot change and something I was not going to be upset about but if I really admitted it to myself, I really wanted him to call me to tell me he was thinking about me. However, most of the time, it’s not that he doesn’t want to call, it’s that location or time zones or job description prevents it (what, you mean my blackberry doesn’t work in every single corner of the globe????). I put myself to bed and tried to sleep but I dreamed some crazy dreams and woke up about 4:45am and lay awake staring at the clock and at 4:58, my cell phone rang.
Mr. Damn came through for me. He was finally in a location where he could phone me and he did remember and I was so relieved and elated to hear his voice even at that absurd hour (and I didn’t even have to lie about him not waking me – go figure). So I just wanted you guys to know that even though I tend to blog about things I’m angry or frustrated about, it’s the moments like this when he comes through for me that are the reason he still has my heart.
So, Kudos today to Mr. Damn for making it a lot easier to walk into that hospital this morning knowing he was thinking about me.
And Kudos to the Anesthesiologist for giving me this nice buzz, I have a soft spot in my heart for you too. And whoever shot up my foot with so much local anesthetic that I can’t feel a damn thing, kudos to you too. You did this last time and let me enjoy anesthesia day to the fullest. I know tomorrow I’ll be in a world of hurt but thanks for helping me enjoy my mind-trip.
Signing-off --- this may be the only day I’ve ever kind of wished I had the NASA channel so I could just watch the stars. I’m sure I can find an appropriate mindless substitute on daytime TV.
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