Another nurse now showed up with a second anesthesia doctor.
“I need for you to sign some papers for me,” the nurse explained.
My friend signed the papers and told the anesthetist that she didn’t like operating rooms.
“Give me some happy juice and I’ll be fine,” my friend said.
I saw the anesthetist inject something into her drip line.
Next, I bid the patient good luck, and she was on her way to the operating room. I headed for the waiting area.
My friend told me that once she was in the operating room, someone asked her what kind of music she liked, and the last thing she remembered hearing was “kumbaya.”
A few hours later, she was on her way home.
And the gallbladder? Well, I suspect it made its way to Dante’s ninth circle of hell — a place designed especially for traitors.
Lloyd “Pete” Waters is a Sharpsburg resident who writes columns for The Herald-Mail.