If I was going to kill you….

February 20, 2008 at 3:44 pm (Uncategorized) (, , , )

Tom took me to my Lady Doctor appointment for a small procedure. His purpose is to hold my hand during the procedure and keep me entertained and occupied while waiting in the exam room for the doctor (and not stray, under any circumstance, south of the border). I’ve had this procedure a couple of times and I’ve learned my lesson. The exam rooms are scary places to wait by oneself – they leave the instruments sitting on the counter to mock you in their medieval-torture-ness. How has modern medicine come so far and the instruments still look so primitive? Also, I like someone to drive me home. I did it once without him and let’s just say that having a receptionist watch passively while you faint into a chair without alerting someone…not very reassuring about the standard of care provided by the overall practice.

Anyway, we were waiting quite some time in the exam room. You know babies, they come on their own schedule and this one was nearly 9 pounds and the mother was refusing anesthesia. I’d ask her if she was high, but I guess the answer is apparently not. Tom was doing a pitiful job of distracting me. At one point I was teasing him that his job was pretty easy, all he had to do was NOT FAINT at the sight of blood, meanwhile my job was to not faint from the actual blood loss. He agreed, he doesn’t do well with the sight of blood, his or anyone elses.

Tom: Yeah, you’re pretty lucky. If I was going to kill you, it would be by a bloodless method. I hate blood.

Me: Thanks, that’s very thoughtful. So you’d poison me, a long slow death, over something quick and painless because you’re a little squeamish.

Oh no, it would be quick and painless. I’d bludgeon you or suffocate you to death.

Bludgeon me?? Wouldn’t that be kinda bloody?

No, I’d hit you on the back of the head and you’d be out quick.  And if there was any blood, I’d just run away. But I’m leaning toward suffocation. With a bag.

You do that and I’m going to scratch the shit out of you and get incriminating evidence all under my fingernails.

Well, then I’d have to wait until you got all cold and your blood congealed and then I’d snip your fingertips off. That way they wouldn’t bleed but there’d be no evidence. It would be like snapping twigs.

Check. No murders involving arterial spray for you.


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