Friday, June 02, 2006
Breaking the Sound Barrier
I know how painful this confession is going to be for my husband and sons. And probably for my mother too. Maybe one day they'll be able to forgive me.
After reading about a gas leak that caused an explosion in an operating room in a recent article, I decided for public safety reasons that it was time to come out of the closet.
I'm a farter.
Yes, that's right.
A master of the one-cheek sneak.
I'm one of those people who are completely incapable of burping without something else coming up with it as a nasty little surprise. I guess the gas has to go somewhere---and apparently it's south.
So instead of being able to cleverly belch out the first stanza of "The Star-Spangled Banner" at drunken 4th of July parties, I have to be content with showing my patriotism with a 21-bun salute.
My friends and family have been sympathetic to my affliction. When Beano didn't help, they tried to make me feel better.
My husband bought me the big bottle of Chanel #5--guaranteed to overpower any accidental whiff of Chanel #2.
Miss Keeks sent me a DVD of the movie Thunderpants for Christmas with a little note that said, "Don't feel bad. It could be worse." She was right. Someone could make a movie about MY ass.
My dogs are even kind enough to take the blame once in a while when someone yells, "What in God's Green Earth was that noise? Has Norad been bombed?"
The rest of the time they run like hell.
So why do I feel the need to confess now?
Because there but for the grace of God...
This poor guy in New Zealand was minding his own business, unconscious and ass-in-the-air, having hemorrhoid surgery. The doctors were using an "electrical 'diathermy' machine - a hand-held tool for cutting tissue and cauterising to stop bleeding."
The patient popped a fluffy and...
Flash fire. Complete with anal burns.
As I age, I have nightmares about having less--uh--control than I do now over these things. Which is absolutely none when I'm asleep. My husband has been spot-welded more times than he can count.
The next time I have my legs up in the stirrups or have a colonoscopy, I'm afraid that I'll be so worried about the escape of the barking spiders that I'll lock up tighter than Ft. Knox.
I've heard you can snap a scope that way.
I've never seen anything about this on medical forms that you fill out before procedures. How do you inform the right people in case of an accident or emergency?
I'm seriously contemplating having a medic-alert bracelet made.
"Lets off howlers when unconscious. Keep away from open flame."
Gotta warn the public somehow. I'm a menace.