I mean the experience itself, as far as it working...
Jury's still out.
We decided to have it done at a specialist surgery center instead of the hospital like last time.
One of my finest moments in decision making if I do say so myself.
*pat on back*
They called us right back, got me into a gown and started an IV before I could even finish telling them how awful it was last time.
I made up for it by trimming the story down to the basic traumatizing facts, added in a little hyperventilation, one small panic attack, and rehearsed the story for EVERY single person I came into contact with.
I think they gave me extra doses of meds just to get me to shut up because one minute they are wheeling me to the "procedure" room and the next minute I'm with Mr. Kiggins in Trader Joe's and holding a cinnamon broom.
An actual little broom, scented like cinnamon.
Smelled delicious.
Here is where Mr. Kiggins fills in the details...
"Gregory with Cara!", the nurse shouted into the crowded waiting room. As she was leading me back to the recovery room, we rounded a corner to see my lovely wife in a wheelchair, hunched over studying the floor tiles with great interest. The nurse touches her on the arm to let her know that they brought me to see her. She looks up, hair in eyes and smiles. She says she's cold and wants hot chocolate. They tell us we have to wait a few minutes before they will let her leave. She then hands me a mini Coke they had given her after she was finished with the procedure.
Noticing that she is fully dressed, she asks me if I was responsible for that. No, I reply, it wasn't me.
Now, the nurse had told me that she would likely not remember anything after the time they gave her the anesthesia. This is going to be interesting.
After a few minutes, she sees the Coke in my hand. "Why did you steal my Coke?"
"I didn't steal it. You gave it to me."
"I want it back." She takes a sip and proclaims:
"SHASTAAA!"
(She is having a flashback from the last injection which was done at the hospital. They didn't give patients the Real Thing there, just a store brand cola we decided to call Shasta.)
As we are driving home, I ask where she wants to get a hot chocolate. "Starbucks. There's one next to Trader Joe's. OOOOHHH! Let's go to Trader Joe's!" We have never been to a Trader Joe's in our lives, but sure. We don't have the kids with us so we can go anywhere she wants. She asks again if I got her dressed. I explain again that the nurse dressed her. This obviously bothered her.
While making my way to Trader Joe's, I grumble something about the way the "(Metro)teans" drive (endearing nickname for people here in our City, much funnier if I could say the whole thing...but anonymity calls). Cara perks up and asks "what about (Metro) *insert anatomical word that rhymes with 'meanest'.*?" Um...no. That's not what I said. She insists that I did say that word after which we proceed to have an in depth conversation about (them). This is a PG-rated blog, so I will not give any more detail. But let's just say that knowing she would not remember our conversation, I quizzed her on her feelings about (those). Gained some pretty good insight, too. Good information for a husband to have.
Fast forward to the cinnamon broom. After we found a parking place at Trader Joe's (not an easy task, even at 11:00 am on a Friday), we passed a display right outside the entrance. They had all of their fall items out front, including cinnamon-scented brooms. Of course we had to have one. Who was I to say no, so I picked one up and we walked in. After a few minutes of intense shopping, we proceed to the check out with an armful of the delicacies one can only find at Trader Joe's. On display at the register were...you guessed it...mini cinnamon brooms! Now you tell me why we wouldn't need two of those to go with their full-sized cousin. I couldn't think of a reason, either. We leave the store with three cinnamon brooms, a jar of peanut butter, sparkling pomegranate juice, and chocolate-covered potato chips. Of course!
Thank you Cara for an unforgettable day. I wish this injury never happened to you, but I will always be grateful for the memories!
Love,
Greg
***************
And it did bother me!
The nurses dressed me?
They saw me in my unmentionables?
That is for Mr. Kiggins eye's only!
And I'm not saying the off-color conversation didn't happen, I just question how innocently it came about.
This topic is too much for my delicate sensibilities.
And everyday is unforgettable with you Mr. Kiggins.
Love,
The Mrs.
