Wednesday, November 15, 2006
I'm in New York City and have been for a couple of days. In a previous post, I mentioned the death of the son of very good friends. Last night one of the dance clubs where he did his DJ work put on a memorial dance in his honor, and we came. It was memorable in many ways.
I'll be a little short on the blogging, I guess, until we return home. Meanwhile, I've been thinking it's time to turn on the lightness light for a while, having gone dark in the last three posts. Unrelated, I'd say, to the fact that we're in NYC, I've been thinking about a few adventures I've had in the rectum. Turns out, it gets used for much more than the blueprints specify, container-wise.
So let me get off to a brief start, in the form of an anecdote about a partner of mine. When I arrived in my present location, all those years ago, my impression of that partner was that he was taciturn and indrawn; a good surgeon, but closed up. I completely missed his dry and incisive sense of humor, until another partner told me this:
In the middle of some night, Partner B was operating on a man who'd ripped a hole in his upper rectum (the part in the abdominal cavity) as a result of, let's see, pleasuring himself with a baseball bat. Needing an extra pair of hands in those wee hours, he called in A who arrived promptly and before scrubbing up, stuck his head into the OR and said "B! I didn't know you did sports medicine!"
OK, a meek start. But I've got some more.