Semi-Colon

Carefully, I arrived at the clinic. They were ready for me and gave me an attractive three-sided hospital gown to wear, telling me I could keep my socks on. They did some medical prep stuff and I was wheeled into the operating room.

The doc and I got off on the wrong foot right away. The room looked more like a bay at a car repair shop than something out of a TV doctor show. I said the room was disappointing and I think that hurt the doctor’s feelings. The highlight was a giant television screen where we could all watch the proceedings like it was the Stanley Cup finals in a sports bar.

The nurse stepped into view. She was wearing the same rubber outfit and goggles as the man who fumigated my room that day in Cancun.

I will spare you the details of what happened next. The three of us got to watch it on the Jumbotron and I found out what “you might feel some slight discomfort” really means. Other than that, my only revelation is discovering how pink I am inside.

I’m not being a good patient. All this is pretty mortifying and, at one point I think I feel the camera poking at the bottom of my stomach. Then something incredible happens.

Remember that scene in Alien where the baby monster rips out of John Hurt’s stomach? It was repeated for laughs in Spaceballs. Well, I start to think about that scene, both actually, and I get the giggles. I am pretty sure none of the medical staff had ever seen anyone laugh in that situation before. They are not amused.

Soon I am back in my recovery bed, sipping juice and eating a cookie, the first solid food in 36 hours. Down the hallway, I hear the nurses talking. “He was laughing,” one said. “Laughed all the way through it.” I suppose everyone has a purpose in life, even if that purpose is to give people something to talk about at coffee break.

I left with a printout report of my adventure, complete with souvenir photos. Not suitable for framing. My advice: when they ask you if you want the sedation, ask for a double.

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