eye of the beholder.

i am playing catch up. taiwan 2010.

Operating Room Fun.

Next time you're put under. Not down. Just in case the anesthesiologist fails to actually sedate you I offer a few words of advice:
one. Be sure to alert the surgeon to whichever part of your anatomy you would feel least okay with having mocked. Nothing is safe from their viscious rhetoric.
two. Have a music preference in writing. Since they make you sign your life away. Go ahead. Make them sign their music privileges away. It will save you much heartache when you are paralyzed and unable to voice extreme discomfort when the surgeon chooses to listen to three hours of dolly parton or p-diddy hizzle whatevizzle. this particular discomfort coupled with surgical incisions and tissue cauterization would undoubtedly be more than any mortal could bare.
three. Better yet. Bring your ipod.
four. don't be alarmed when the surgeon burns or cuts himself. he's just trying to empathize. if he yelps take it as a sign he is successfully internalizing your pain.
five. when you do wake up. I encourage you to not punch the nurses. don't be offended when the anesthesiologist decides to rate your wake up on a scale measuring sexiness. better yet. be as sexy as possible.
six. don't ask for whatever was removed from your body. that's disgusting. not classy. your friends will not be impressed and it will not store well.

Spontaneous Poeming

"Distracting"- Sickened Classmate

You bet your bottom I used these in my final presentation for my nursing research course. Audience comments are appreciated, especially when they validate the soul purpose of certain presentation elements. Ask yourself. Why else would i include these:

300 Pounds

I tend to mind my own BEEZWAX (is that how fourth graders spell it?) when I'm swimming. I ignore other people and assume other people ignore me. Guess i was correct in that assumption. There i was, at the bottom of the pool, disoriented, confused, dazed, not so much amazed (i apparently had enough time to think about this before my chest demanded oxygen), without goggles and a slight throbbing on the right side of my head. I emerge from the water (probably more like flopped to the top) and greeted my audience and the 300 pound man swimming awkwardly next to me with his big, black, flippery feet. Then he started talking, yammering on and on and on and on about his goggles and the hot tub and maybe something about those ridiculous looking flippery feet? Apparently he didn't see me, either that or he did and felt that jumping on somebody a third of his size was just the right confidence booster he needed. With a parting "we gotta stop meeting like this" (is that suave like the sexy italian or just like the cheap shampoo that smells like cough syrup? You pick.)

Take the Stairs for a Healthy Heart...and foot

I got my foot stuck in an over-zealous elevator today, which chose to leave me behind, but not without a parting snide remark and an attempt at amputating my right foot. Good laugh for the freshman inside who sided with me and worked desperately (i think she was genuinely concerned...one hand poised in front of the emergency fireman button) from the other side to unstick what had been stuck. 

Topher

 

love love love those chubby cheeks