A selection from
by William Martin
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this is page 173
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chart, his eyes seemed teary, which caused me
momentary anxiety, until he said, "You're fortunate
to have caught this early. My father died of
prostate cancer."
In my previous experiences at Methodist, 1 had
been impressed with the thoroughness with
which various procedures were explained and at
the degree to which my own preferences were
taken into account. The trend was holding. The
doctor explained that, shortly before the operation
I would receive a shot of Versed, a valium derivative
that would calm me down and erase my
memory of the entire pre-operative period. I told
him I didn't suffer from excitability and that I saw
little advantage in having my memory blotted
out. Before two previous hand surgeries for old
typing injuries, I had received what a nurse
described as a "one-Margarita dose," which had
relaxed me but enabled to me carry on conversation
during the surgery and remember most of it
when it was over. I didn't expect to remain conscious
during this operation, but I would prefer to
concentrate more on killing pain than blotting out
memories. "That's fine," he said. "We'll cut back
the dose. It won't effect the pain of the surgery at
all. It's just to calm you down. Some people get
pretty anxious. When Jerry Lewis was in here, he
was bouncing off the walls." Well, Jerry and I
often react differently to things.
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