As you recall, I told you about my witty repartee with the plastic surgeon in yesterday’s boob update. At today’s post-op appointment he was in rare form.
First, I have to say that I feel so much better than when I had the tissue expanders inserted in March. I’m almost scared that I’m headed for some colossal steroid crash and burn, and this is the calm before the storm. I’m just much sleepier today, so let’s hope that this is the extent of it.
There is, however, one very odd remnant of the surgical experience. I have a fat lip. Just on the right side. Now, I work beneath the OR floor, and let me tell you, it sometimes sounds like they’re tossing midgets up there for amusement. Bam! Crash! I’d love to be a fly on the wall some days.
So, when I graced Dr. Boob’s office this morning, neatly coiffed of course, I wanted to ask him what in the world had gone on the day before.
Me: So, take a look at this lip. Do you know what happened while I was under?
Dr. Boob: You probably bit your lip next to the trach tube, that’s all. (Really! that’s all you’ve got? Quid pro quo, Dr., quid pro quo)
Me: (sure that he was off his game and it would be an easy victory today) I’m thinking that the anesthesia dude, Dr. Hopper, Harry Potter, whatever his name was, got miffed when I told him they screwed up last time. He probably smacked me around a little.
Dr. Boob: Nope. He only hit you lightly, not enough to leave a mark. I saw it.
Me: (he’s back) You mean, you saw me being physically abused and you just stood by and let it happen?
Dr. Boob: Well, I was kind of tied up doing surgery.
Me: I understand, but the least you can do is show me some sympathy now. (I put on my best puppy dog face)
Dr. Boob: (with a totally straight face) Do you know where you find sympathy in the dictionary?
Me: (feeling victory slipping away) No, where?
Dr. Boob: Somewhere between “shit” and “syphillis”.
Dammit! Quid pro quo. It puts the lotion on it’s fat lip, or it gets the hose again.