I had to have a little “adjustment” procedure on my left breast last week. The human body is not the same on both sides, despite its seeming-symmetry, and ol’ leftie decided not to settle into a nice ladylike posture, so the left incision site was sitting slightly high. Aside from having to drive into The Dreaded Downtown Houston, which I hate with a white-hot passion due to having to park on floor 17 of a multi-level indoor garage (which is especially scary because there are only 12 floors), take an elevator to the basement, walk a mile, take an escalator to the lobby, and then search for the elevator that transports human cattle exclusively to floors 9-16 . . . have I mentioned previously that I am brutally claustrophobic? No? Oh. Well, I am, which means I seriously HATE multi-level parking garages and elevators. Which are the rule in downtown Houston. Which is also impeding my job search. However, as usual, I digress…

The procedure itself was really no big deal, just a quick nip/tuck …… if you don’t mind receiving multiple anesthetic injections into a sensitive area . . . and then staying wide awake while you feel a “tugging sensation” . . . and while you can hear a distinctive “snipping” sound . . . and while you can see the surgeon reeling out yards of dissolvable suture like a bass fisherman casting his fishing rod outwards in ever-widening arcs. Fortunately, my surgeon is not only famous, gorgeous, charming, and also a lawyer, but he has a goofy sense of humour with which to distract his patients.

Everything went smoothly up until the next morning when moments after I received a follow-up call from the nurse I insanely decided to remove the surgical tape to check things out for myself… which resulted in my being called back in immediately to have the sterile tape replaced and being thoroughly lectured on “paying attention” and “following instructions“. As it happens, I spent that two hours tiptoeing around the house afraid to even blink too hard in case the implant burst out of my chest like something from Alien.

I was also re-reminded that I was not to workout or do anything else that might elevate my blood pressure. Which is a shame since I was thinking about maybe, possibly, almost considering the chance of getting laid this past weekend. But, the only way I could have accomplished that and not elevated my blood pressure would have been to have sex with my last boyfriend. Which is not what you would call an option.

This entry was posted on Monday, February 13th, 2006 at 2:41 pm and is filed under Humour. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.