I, on the other hand, am a badass. I laugh in the face of the burning Lidocaine shots in the tender skin of my back! Haha! WHAT pain?” The doctor and the nurse were suitably impressed. “Why, you could PROBABLY do this whole operation without numbing the area at ALL, because I am SUCH a badass! But I know how you doctors like to wield those needles…” The nurse and I gave each other knowing looks. “Can you feel this? Or this?” The doctor said, apparently jabbing me in numbed areas. “Not at all,” I said. “But I’m such a BADASS that even if I completely felt that, I probably wouldn’t tell you! Because I LAUGH -” “-in the face of pain,” the nurse completed in a bored monotone. “Yeah, we know.” I heard the clank of instruments, and then saw a scalpel go by my face. We chatted while the big hunk of skin was removed from my back, and I mentioned the many sunburns I’d suffered as a child living in Guam, and how no doubt I was going to die from the skin cancer because my PARENTS DON’T LOVE ME, but that was okay, that was just FINE, because I am a badass, and I laugh – “in the face of pain?” the doctor suggested. “No! In the face of death! Ha! Ha!” A huge hunk of skin went through my line of vision, and the doctor placed it in a cup of some sort of liquid so that it could be sent to the lab and tested. “Make sure you tell them I’m a badass!” I insisted. “Yeah, I’ll get right on THAT,” the nurse said. “Okay,” the doctor said, and I saw more metal go by my face. As she worked, she gave me care instructions for the wound that she was stitching up. “Keep it covered for twenty-four hours,” she said. “After that, put Neosporin or Bactriban on it, and keep it covered for three days with a band-aid.” I immediately discarded the idea of keeping it covered for twenty-four hours, because I AM A BADASS, and BADASSES love their BBC “Coupling”, and the only time I allow my badass self to watch “Coupling” is when I’m on the badass elliptical trainer (how, after all, do you think I STAY such a badass?), and after I kick ass on the elliptical trainer, I’ll have to take a shower, which will entail getting the wound wet, which will entail replacing the bandage. But I’m a badass. I can handle it. The doctor began stitch number two. “And then you need to come back in ten days to have the stitches removed.” “I am SUCH a badass that instead of coming back in to have YOU remove my stitches, I’ll probably just take them out MYSELF with a pair of rusty scissors!” Somehow the nurse and doctor seemed less than impressed. “So, are you working tomorrow?” the doctor asked as she began stitch number three. “No,” I said. “I don’t work. I don’t HAVE TO. I’m such a badass my husband throws money at me every time he sees me! Sometimes I even pay the bills with it!” “And what did you do when you worked?” said the nurse. “I was an office manager,” I said, and then reflected upon what I said. “But I was a BADASS office manager. I made people CRY when I sneered at them!” Suddenly I felt a tugging sensation on my back. “Hey,” I said. “I felt THAT.” The nurse smiled. “We’re allllmost done. Just hold on to your badass horses!” I heard the snipping sound as she cut the ends off stitch number three. “So, did you like your job?” the doctor asked. “Yeah, pretty much except for when – JESUS CHRIST! WHAT THE FUCK?! OH MY GOD! WHAT THE GODDAMN FUCKING HELL WAS THAT??” I flailed around. “OW! OW! OUCH, GODDAMNIT!” “Oh,” the doctor said mildly. “I guess you felt that one too, huh? Good thing you’re such a badass. If you weren’t, I might numb the area a little more! You’re going to feel a little tugging…” “OWWWWW! OWWWWW! OH GODDAMN, MAKE IT STOP!” I screamed and flailed some more. “Hold her down,” the doctor ordered, not sounding nice in the least. The nurse threw herself across me to hold me down. I flailed the best I could, but the nurse was stronger than I’d expected. “Just one more!” the doctor said cheerily. “OWWWWWWW! OWWWWWWWWW! GODDAMNIT FUCKING HELL YOU BITCH I HATE YOU OWWWWWWWWWWWW!” “There,” the doctor said a few minutes later. “All done! That wasn’t so bad, was it? After ALL, you’re… what’s the word?” “A badass,” the nurse contributed. “I AM a badass!” I sniffled. “I am!” They snickered at me for a few more minutes, then I got dressed and left. Upon rethinking the incident, I am reassured that I really am the badass I keep insisting I am. Why? Because anyone ELSE would have passed out or even died from the pain, but me? Just a little yelling. A little sobbing. A little wailing and flailing. That’s right.
I’m a badass.
I hope to spend a good part of my weekend doing this.
Not this, though. I don’t think I’d be comfortable in that particular position.
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