A minor procedure, a major comedy of errors, and one editor learning that hospital humour is not for the faintish.
There comes a time in every coastal resident’s life when the sun quietly stops being your friend and starts billing you for damages. Mine arrived a while ago, when I found myself in a hospital gown being told they were about to carve a decent-sized piece off my bottom lip. Skin cancer. Aggressive, apparently. Occupational hazard.
My surgeon, we’ll call him Michael (not his real name, though we’re on a first-name basis), tried to reassure me. “Don’t overthink it,” he said, which is precisely the kind of thing that makes you immediately start overthinking it.
Dr Evil
Then the anaesthetist wandered over. “If you don’t make it,” he said, deadpan, “I don’t get paid.” A pause. “Actually, that’s not true. I still get paid.” Then he let out a Dr Evil laugh. Everyone joined in: anaesthetist, surgeon, nurse, assistant, four out of five people laughing. So statistically, it was funny
“Apologies,” said the anaesthetist, recovering. “Just joking. Tell you what, to make up for it, I’ll give you a lekker double-brandy.”
“No thanks,” I said. “I’m on Sober October.”
“Oh no, you’re not,” he said, and started laughing again.
Quick, nice, then scary.
And then suddenly, I also started laughing. For about three-tenths of a second, everything made perfect sense, and I giggled: the joke, the universe, the whole ridiculous business of being alive. I really felt it.
Then I saw the trees coming for me. Then nothing.
Next thing I knew, I was awake again, missing a small piece of myself and feeling like I’d been kicked in the pie-hole by a polite horse. They told me they’d “got it all,” which was both comforting and slightly unnerving.
The post-op rules were simple: no alcohol, no sun, no hot drinks. I failed all three at a café on the N2 on the way home. No, it wasn’t a glühwein, in the sun, but close.
People keep asking what happened, which is fine. I tell them it’s a surfing injury. It’s not untrue. I’ve been surfing in the sun for 35 years.
— —
Read more: Domestic Silence, Background Howling – Notes From The Editor
Further reading: Hallucinogens Fact Sheet
Recent Comments