100...99...98...9*
I'm starting to get nervous about J.'s surgery. I don't want him to get a general anesthetic, but he's adamant about not being awake for the procedure. Then he waffles and says he doesn't want to be intubated. I told him to just get the local and a sedative ("Hey! They'll give you the Magical Purple Rainbow Valium!") but he's skittish.
They'll never get ME under a general again. That was nightmarish. I can still feel it burning through my arm and reaching up my neck and over my skull like a sickly red-brown claw as I was trying to protest that it fucking HURT and everything went this grainy color of loose turds and *wuh*. That was 13 years ago. Ecch.
They'll never get ME under a general again. That was nightmarish. I can still feel it burning through my arm and reaching up my neck and over my skull like a sickly red-brown claw as I was trying to protest that it fucking HURT and everything went this grainy color of loose turds and *wuh*. That was 13 years ago. Ecch.
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Good luck to him with his surgery. Make sure he gets the happy-making Demerol afterward. Or Vicodin.
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Now all you gotta do is take care of them boobies!
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I prefer local simply because I don't like missing out on the exciting parts.