The Anesthesiologist

I had to go have an endoscopy done this afternoon-- a procedure in which they knock you out and then stick a tube with a camera down your throat to take pictures of your esophagus and stomach.

When I got settled into the chair, the anesthesiologist wrapped a rubber band around my arm. It was super tight. I must have been wincing.

"I know it hurts," he said. "But just a little while longer."

The way he said it, I felt a slight masochistic pleasure from bearing the pain. He asked me to hold my arm up higher.

"Good girl," he said. I liked that.

He said that again a few times.

I tried to look at he was doing when he stuck the catheter in.

"I don't want you to look over here," he said.

So, I turned away.

Right before they knocked me out he told me that I was going to feel a little high and that I'd then fall asleep.

"Are you nervous?" he asked.

"Only because I'm sober," I said.

"I want you to relax. You are going to be very well taken care of. Just let go... Good girl."

I was strangely turned on by the whole thing. I told Hammer about it after. I think this is all a good sign... first I noticed an attractive guy at the Punk show and then I was turned on by the bossy yet paternalistic anesthesiologist. When I'm obsessed with one man, I tend not to notice any others.

Hmmm... Maybe I meant what I said in my last text to Narc. I'm not sure yet...

love,
h