|Tales of woe and intrigue
||[May. 15th, 2007|09:14 am]
To really appreciate this story, you should go read this story first.
Our house has been one of recuperation since Ferrett had major dental surgery last Wednesday. The first day was spent cleaning up drooly spatters of blood and making sure that my poor hubby actually iced his face and got fluids into his system. Clenching blood-soaked gauze between his lips, he attempted to talk to me, and then to pantomime as I guessed - but his pantomime skills were badly disrupted by the Demerol still circulating through his system and even a "thumbs up" was delivered with such a wild gesture that I couldn't be certain that was what he meant.
Only one thing was clear. He would stop and look at me and say "Mm mmmm mmm."
And I would smile back at him and say, "I love you, too."
By the next day the bleeding was stopped and the gauze out of his mouth - a tremendous relief as my guessing skills were growing increasingly thin. He was in remarkably good spirits and considerably less pain than I had feared. By the third day, his speech was adapting well to the new configuration of his mouth.
Sometime mid-morning, he came out of the bathroom with a strange little grin. "You know," he said, "I think I may have been sexually assaulted while I was under the anesthesia."
I gaped at him. "What?"
He shrugged, with the gleeful sort of smile he gets when he knows he's being completely absurd. "No, not really, but it does happen."
"Why would you...?"
"Well, you see," he explained. "I read that people sometimes lose bladder control when they are under anesthesia, and I was really terrified of wetting myself. So when I was in the restroom I wadded up a bunch of bathroom tissues and stuck them down my pants so if I did it would absorb it. But when I came out that wad of tissues had disappeared, and I never did find them, and that's the most amusing explanation I can come up--why are you grinning?!"
I couldn't help myself. His version of events was so funny that I couldn't interrupt to explain to him that, as we were driving out of the dentist's parking lot, he had reached into his pants and started fishing around. I was terrified that he was going to pull Little Elvis out and make a scene there in the street, but instead he pulled out this wad of tissues. And grinned in triumph. And tried to explain its presence in his pants, but with a mouthful of gauze, I had no idea what the hell he was on about.
So, a mystery solved for the both of us. I now knew that he'd Macgyvered himself a Depends, and he knew that no one had been fondling the family jewels while he was unconscious.
And we both giggled.