I pulled up my sleeve to find bite marks on my arm.
Angry that someone would have taken the opportunity to bite me while I was unconscious, I went back to the doctor’s office to complain.
“Sir, no one would have bit you,” the nurse said, condescendingly. “Are you sure you it didn’t happen before you went in for surgery?”
“Yes,” I insisted, “because before my surgery, the anesthesiologist kept massaging my arm and going on about how unblemished it was.”
“Well, the doctor’s not in today and…” the nurse tried to get me to leave but right then the doctor fell through the door. He had been eavesdropping on our conversation.
“Hey, um…” he started, uncomfortably.
“Listen,” I began, “you performed surgery on me yesterday and when I came to, I had bite marks on my arm.”
“Let me explain that,” the doctor examined my arm. “Yes, well, tell you what. Come back next week, we’ll put you under and we’ll have a look at it.”
“Why would you need to put me under to see if someone bit me? I’m asking you, did someone bite me while I was unconscious?”
The doctor put his hand to his chin, as if deep in thought. “I do a lot of surgeries.”
“And you wouldn’t remember if one of your patients was bitten?”
The doctor put his hand on his chin again, as if thinking.
“It’s a simple question,” I was now becoming very impatient. “Did someone bite me?”
“Yes” the doctor answered.
“Why?” I asked.
“It’s perfectly normal for a patent to get bitten during surgery,” he replied.
“That’s not true!” I was now growing angry.
“I don’t know why you’re complaining,” he was becoming indignant, “It’s pretty much your fault. You really upset Steve.”
“Who’s Steve?” I asked.
“The anesthesiologist ,” he answered.
“How could I possibly have upset Steve? I was unconscious!”
“It wasn’t really what you did, it was what you didn’t do,” he explained. “All of the doctors, myself included were making fun of Steve during surgery and he was really counting on you to stick up for him and you didn’t. You just laid there, letting him take it.”
“So he bit me?!”
“He was really hurt. He didn’t understand why you were laying there, pretending like you didn’t hear anything,” the doctor went on.
“He’s an anesthesiologist!” I yelled, outraged. “He knocked me out! If anyone should understand, it should be him!”
“I know, I know,” the doctor seemed embarrassed. “We were going to explain that to him, but when we saw you weren’t going to stick up for him, we just teased him more.”
“I am filing the biggest lawsuit,” I threatened, but right then, the anesthesiologist walked through the door, carrying a box full of his things.
“Speak of the devil,” the doctor said.
“I’m quitting, doctor,” Steve the anesthesiologist said, “I’m not putting up with your crap anymore. I’m an adult.”
“Really?” the doctor replied, “Because that patient you bit is right here and he says you bite like a little girl.”
“What?!” I said, flabbergasted, “I never said that!”
Steve angrily dropped all of his things.
“What?! You want to go?!” he threatened.
Steve took a swing at me, but missed. I returned a punch knocking him unconscious.
The doctor checked his pulse.
“He’s out!” the doctor said excitedly and held up my arm. “Ladies and gentlemen, our new anesthesiologist!”
“Alright,” I shrugged. “Let’s go do surgery.”