Ninety- percent of the time it's me that gets to play Nurse, because Angela has a penchant for falling out off ladders, slicing and dicing fingers, legs and other parts of her body, and less frequently, heart episodes. However, Friday and Saturday it was Angela that got to hold the barf bag. She has had plenty of practice as everytime I've had even the most minor surgery, I've been sick from anesthesia everytime. So far, medical sience hasn't outfoxed my system - my body knows when anesthesia is used - period. I'm okay in the dentist chair though; go figure. Novocain must not count, at least not for me. Anyway, among the hundreds of things my Transsexual is great at, it'd be a hard choice between fixing everything and be a great nurse.
When one is under the weather enough that a barf container must be nearby, one really feels sick. So, it is definitely a comfort to have a good nurse on duty. Angela fits the bill. I'm not good around anyone barfing, nor am I worth a damn if clean-up is required. That doesn't mean I haven't had to be around a barfer, and heaven's knows, I've had to clean it up - as does anyone who has kids and dogs. But, Angela has made it a career. If I'm going under anesthesia, she knows the look and always has an emesis basin under my nose when needed. This weekend was just one of those things - flu, cold, bad food (I've eaten out for lunch for 4 days running) or water - but I certainly kept her hovering. I usually made it to the bathroom, but she was there, just in case.
Now, I don't know about you, but having Angela around when I'm sick is decidedly one of the Best Things About Being Married to a Transsexual!
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