Well, we're home again and everyone is almost back to normal. Except hubby, who had the procedure (see yesterday's post) as planned, though not on time.
Part of his procedure resulted in him having a severe case of (what was it Bones said on Star Trek IV? "acute upper post-prandial distension"??) er, uhm, otherwise known as "gas cramps."
The nurse who looked after hubby when he was coming off the sedative was very concerned that he get in the optimal position to relieve this pressure post haste, since it is very painful. (I can attest - slightly different circumstances but the same pain...)
Yet in the hospital he could not seem to permit himself to do it, even as groggy as he was. On the way home, with every pothole, every road repaired poorly, every crack in the pavement it seemed, he was in agony. So when I got him home, my only instruction to him was to go to bed, lie on his side, and rest. Which he did - for hours. And (pardon my having a little sport here) every so often the sweet sibilant sounds of escaping air proceeded from those sweet lips that had never ever told a lie. In other words, it was "toot good to be true."
Honestly, I never thought the sound of flatulence would sound so sweet to my ears than in the last few hours, since it means the reduction of pain and suffering for someone I love dearly. That's the rare occasion when what's bad is good.
This is a good 24 hours.
Soon, all this will be a memory we can laugh heartily about. Butt until then, I console myself (and him) with these words of wisdom: "This too shall pass."
Part of his procedure resulted in him having a severe case of (what was it Bones said on Star Trek IV? "acute upper post-prandial distension"??) er, uhm, otherwise known as "gas cramps."
Yet in the hospital he could not seem to permit himself to do it, even as groggy as he was. On the way home, with every pothole, every road repaired poorly, every crack in the pavement it seemed, he was in agony. So when I got him home, my only instruction to him was to go to bed, lie on his side, and rest. Which he did - for hours. And (pardon my having a little sport here) every so often the sweet sibilant sounds of escaping air proceeded from those sweet lips that had never ever told a lie. In other words, it was "toot good to be true."
Honestly, I never thought the sound of flatulence would sound so sweet to my ears than in the last few hours, since it means the reduction of pain and suffering for someone I love dearly. That's the rare occasion when what's bad is good.
This is a good 24 hours.
Soon, all this will be a memory we can laugh heartily about. Butt until then, I console myself (and him) with these words of wisdom: "This too shall pass."
I love being the butt of a good joke...but really folks, there has been too much misinformation here. To borrow a few movie titles, I was NOT “Gone with the Wind”, or left “Remains of the Day”, or was “Lord of the Flies” or “Forrest Dump”. There was no “Full Moon in Blue Water”, or much “Grease”. But there was sadly a lot of “Thunderball”, “Strange Brew” “Living out Loud” “Rush” and “Waterworld”.
ReplyDeleteSo, as might be guessed, it is true that I was letting a few loose; cutting the cheese; trying out the redneck mating call; launching a loaf; and popping an air biscuit.
Look, I'm not one to toot my own horn. Butt I had a ripping good time playing the colonic calliope and the backdoor trumpet. I took up residence in Beantown. And no, contrary to what some folks will believe to be the toot-th, the doctors were not cutting me a new a@@hole or just confirming physically if I was one! The toot-th be told, I saw all these grad pictures on Facebook and decided to get someone to take a few of my good side- the inside, instead.
ROFLM@O! You nut!! I <3 you!!
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