I accompanied my mother to a procedure yesterday.
When I say "procedure" I am actually meaning to say a "colonoscopy", which, in and of itself, is pretty disgusting. I feel sorry for anyone who has to do it. I'm sure my day will come. What I want to know is, why would any doctor go into that particular field of medicine?
"What do you want to do with your life, Billy?"
"I wanna be either a firefighter, a dragon slayer, or a proctologist."
Doesn't add up in my mind. I guess Billy could have asked to be a Gastro...in...en...tol...whatever. You get the point. These particular doctors deal with stomachs, intestines and azzholes. Not fun. Not fun at all. I'll bet they go through mass amounts of hand sanitizer.
Okay, so back to the point of my post...
So there I am, in the waiting room while my poor mother is led off to have a garden hose with a camera on the end shoved up her azz...and, I open my computer to do my second pass edits on my debut novel (out in August...holla!--that was my attempt at being "street". Did it work? Didn't think so.) So there I sit in this waiting room detailing and editing the crap out of my novel, trying to paint the perfect romantic picture with the right amount of emotional tugs, etc.....
And the nurse calls me back to sit in the recovery room with my mom.
I followe her, thinking, "I can just continue my work while my mother wakes up, etc" Um......no. I sat down in this room with a few other patients waking up, and everyone is only divided by curtains, and everyone is...
Well....I should try to be mature about this....
Everyone is farting. Yes, I said it. Everyone is farting.
Bit farts, small farts, wooshing farts, globber farts, long farts, short farts, everyone is farting.
Now is when I run into some problems. You see, I may be the uber stylish Romance Author with the great hair (snort) to you...but in real life, I am giant nerd. An oversized twelve year old, to be honest. The first fart? I smiled to myself and kept typing. I could keep it together, as long as I was focusing on my work. But then the Colonoscopy Nazi walked by and yelled at me.
"KEEP YOUR MOTHER AWAKE! PUT YOUR COMPUTER AWAY!"
Oh, snap. Did that b*tch just yell at me?
After weighing the options...keeping the computer out and getting my butt kicked by a nurse with an vendetta, I decided to put the computer away. So there I sat, forcing conversation with my stoned mother, while trumpets blew all around me.
"So, how you feeling, mom?"
*FRAP*
"Did you see on the knews? They killed Osama Bin Laden."
*FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEP*
"I left the boys with Amelia today. She's always so nice to them."
*RUMBLE RUMBLE RUMBLE*
(This is the point at which I am fighting the urge to laugh)
"Do you want a drink of water? Stay awake for me."
*POP! CRACK! SMACK*
"Wow. You'd think they'd put up actual walls in here. You can hear everything."
*FRAP!*
(My hand is over my mouth now) "Crap, mom, can you hurry and wake up, so I can take you for lunch?"
"POOOOOOOOOOOOOT*
(My shoulders are shaking) "How about Marie Calendars? You like that place."
*POP! WHEEEEEEEEEZE!*
Did I mention that throughout all of this, I am having a text message conversation with my Aunt Laurie that involves things like this:
"Tell her to tell the doc to kiss her ass while he's down there." and "She's really taking it up the tailpipe from these guys" and "I guess her day is going down the toilet now" and more. How could I possibly be expected to keep myself together!?
It was an awfully long stay in recovery. And because I couldn't manage to keep my mother awake the whole time, we were the last ones to leave that day. So I got to hear the azz music of at least three other people. It wasn't that funny, to be honest. I mean, these people were suffering. They'd just had a garden hose up their backside....but so help me. I had another one of those "Is this my life?" moments. One foot in the glamorous world of getting a romance novel published, the other in a recovery room with a nazi nurse and a small handful of incoherant, gassy people entertaining me.
It was an incredibly strange situation that will undoubtedly make it into a book someday.
Brooke Moss.
