The Ring

Prior to heading down for anesthesia, I was instructed to remove all "jewelry," which for me consisted of my orange Multiple Myeloma Research Foundation wristband, my fitbit, and my wedding ring. The first two items came off without a hitch, of course, but the third has been a part of my left hand for thirty years and was not interested in finding a new home. Using cold water and soap, I failed to remove it. The nurse gave it a try with Windex, but did no better. It was concluded that the ring could stay.

Down in Anesthesia, however, this decision was revisited. The surgeon explained that electric cauterization would be applied to the surgical incision, and the current would pass through my body, mostly to a large grounding pad on my right thigh. But he couldn't guarantee that some current would not heat up the ring enough to cause a burn. One of the more senior nurses was called over for a consult--she was good with rings. I soaked my fingers in ice water for a minute or so, and she worked her magic, which turns out to have consisted of pulling really hard.

Through all the time (so far) that I had been poked, prodded, made to lie for hours in uncomfortable positions, and generally abused, I had uttered not a squawk, till then. The ring came off, and all the other unfortunate patients waiting for anesthesia were treated to some seriously blood-curdling vocalizations, which undoubtedly helped them ease into their oblivia.

One of these is not like the others.