For my second operation, I was to get a bumper of anesthesia through an epidural. The surgery was meant to take 6 hours or more and the spinal entry would keep everything calm. My anesthesiologist was a terribly sweet and friendly man, which is good for a pediatric anesthesiologist.
He told me to give his nurse a big hug, which I did. He'd already given me something to make me relaxed (and loopy) and I said that his nurse was very fun to hug because she was big and squishy. I'd never have said this had I not been given drugs. I also would not have likely told the doc that he had a large nose if I were sober.
10 hours later, I woke very suddenly, in a lot of pain and with a wet back. My epidural had slid out in recovery. A resident put it back in, but it slid out again and I was given a morphine pump. I understand that the epidural sliding out likely has nothing to do with having offended my caretakers. Nevertheless, I'm reminded of this incident in anticipation of my treatment on Tuesday.
When I met the doctor who will be applying my treatment, I was introduced as an American who speaks "Mundart." The fact that I speak swiss-german was cheerily delivered to this German doctor by his cheery assistant Dr.
"She's only lived here 4 years!" He said, grinning. "Perhaps we should all speak in dialect." He added.
The German Dr. groaned and said "keine Chance."
I'm now thinking about this second-hand chiding and hoping that it doesn't effect my care on Tuesday. I'm hoping alot, in fact. I find myself stupidly or sweetly imagining that something might come of our plan this week and that my health may be taking a new, super cool turn.
Who knows. All I know is that I will be as sweet and polite to everybody at the University Hospital . . . just in case.