Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Thanks for the memory
While I never really followed the career of Dom Deluise, I do have a fond memory of him because his chubby face was engraved in my brain during a wretched experience.
When I was twenty I had my tonsils taken out. Now if you think it’s a rotten procedure for a kid to go through, try having the surgery as an adult. Yowza. That whole play-up about eating all the ice cream you want is a bonafide myth. The thick stuff just would not go down my swollen, raw throat.
Where Dom comes in is that my doctor looked just like him.
The morning of my operation a nice nurse gave me one of those “twilight” shots. No, nothing to do with teen vampires, but rather a sweet drug that put me into a lovely, mellow state of mind.
Then I was loaded onto a gurney and rolled down many long hallways toward the operating room. Lying on your back, staring up at the ceiling lights is a most interesting sensation when you’re loopy on drugs. I remember saying a couple of things to the nurses that brought shocked looks and a stern “Shhhh.”
In the O.R. with a strange bustling going on, Dr. Dom leaned over me and smiled that silly Dom smile. Like watching a bad Ed Wood film on acid, his large floating head was both a horror and a giggle at the same time.
Dr Dom: “Say good night”
Pyzahn: “But I’m not sleepy.”
Dr. Dom: “Say good night..and then count backward from ten.”
Pyzahn: “Okay, but I’m not sleepy. Ten, ni…..z-z-z-z.”
Next thing I know I was in a semi-conscious state, with a fiery throat and thinking, “Ah, they won’t do the surgery if I’m sick.” My eyes opened. I was back in the hospital room and my Mom was looking worriedly at me.
After a few minutes of disorientation, I croaked out: “I gotta pee.” Still pumped from the drugs and before my Mom could stop me, I jumped out of bed. I made it a few steps before I collapsed against the wall and slid to the floor as Mom struggled to keep me upright.
You know, when you faint, you really do see stars. Just like in the cartoons. I went down in a wondrous celestial blaze.
It was a protracted recovery, more miserable than the strep throats that often plagued me. I had nightmares that included projectile vomiting. I was pitiful and felt sorry for myself.
If it hadn’t been for Dom Deluise and the vision of his large head looming over me, this sad tale would have no humor element whatsoever.