It seems the possibility of me not being able to write, slim as it is, is down to the effects of the anaesthetic.
It seems the drugs can remain in your system for a while so best not to do anything important. For instance, shooting an apple off Mrs P’s head with a bow and arrow. Stuff like that.
Anyway, I’m down with all that. No point in taking chances.
I remarked as such to the Scottish Plumber as we enjoyed a long overdue convivial beverage just the other night.
Inevitably, talk of the effects of the anaesthetic got us remembering similar stories we’d heard. In the end – and it’s possible the aforementioned beverage may have been responsible – the conversation got away from us and morphed into recollections of people we knew who’d done or said silly things under the influence of some debilitating drug or another.
I reminded him about an old football mate who, a few years back now, suffered an injury on the field and was given the famed “green whistle” to suck on. In short, copious amounts of painkiller.
He had obviously broken a leg and was, quite remarkably I’ve always felt, laying there being kept immobile by me on one side and the Scottish Plumber on the other while various medical people worked to get him in a position to move.
As he sucked in the drug, you could see the edge being taken off what must have been excruciating pain. Then his eyes opened wide and he tried to get up.
“My homework,” he yelled. “I haven’t done my homework.”
The Scottish Plumber and I started laughing so hard we were shaking the patient which earned us a stern rebuke from the medics.
Thankfully our mate recovered. And he gave us yet another giggle about it the other night.
I recalled Mrs P, in a similar fashion, having hurt her back in a collapse a few years ago, being gingerly escorted from our house by two ambulance officers, one on either side.
They’d opted for moving her vertically because of the pain she was in lying down, if that makes sense.
As she reached the front door where I was standing – worry and concern etched all over my face – she said: “We’re just going back to the convent.”
Where that came from I have no idea but it’s fair to say the worry and concern on my dial were soon replaced by a smile - only because I was trying hard not to laugh.
To this day, Mrs P denies saying it.
Fortunately, there’s no denying what the Boomerang Child said, or did, while under the influence of an anaesthetic.
She’d had some wisdom teeth pulled and there was a fair bit of swelling. Okay, there was a lot of swelling. So much so, I figured she would never believe me when she came to her senses and it had all gone.
So I made a quick video recording of her face on my phone.
Not immediately you understand. To be honest, immediately I saw her I had to stifle a laugh and duck out of her cubicle. She was giggling a bit too at the time so I don’t feel so bad about it now but obviously she had no idea her chops were blown up like footballs.
So, Mrs P is in there with her, holding her hand and offering soothing words as I re-enter, camera up. As I do the Boomerang Child launches into a full-throated version of Elton John’s song Can You Feel The Love Tonight from The Lion King.
It is fair to say the footage is now regarded as priceless in our family and regularly hauled out at get-togethers.
Neither the Scottish Plumber nor I were present for the last story we’d heard but it’s always one we’ve enjoyed, particularly when we’ve both known the main protagonist for such a long time.
She’s the first to admit, like most of us of a distinguished vintage, there’s a few miles on the clock now and the paintwork isn’t as bright and shiny as it once was. Some of the upholstery has seen better days and on a cold morning she takes a while to get started. I’m sure you get my drift.
She works in the medical field and one time she and two others of similar age and experience were assisting a bloke as he emerged from sedation.
Apparently woozy at first, the bloke suddenly sat bolt upright, stared wide-eyed at the trio in front of him and exclaimed: “Oh my god! Charlie’s Angels!”
As our mate said. She didn’t care if it was the effects of the anaesthetic or not, she was just happy with the compliment.
