An Inner Italian Moment
By Walter Sanders
Recently, I had a routine medical procedure that necessitated anesthesia.
The anesthesiologist had gone through the drill thousands of times. He used well-practiced patter to recite a comical sedation flavor menu…to put me at ease, I’m sure.
“Today we have orange, vanilla, peach, watermelon, bubblegum, strawberry, and lemon. Which do you prefer?”
“What I’d really prefer is Brunello di Montalcino. Is that available?”
That stopped him cold. Real cold.
Seconds passed. Yikes. Had I broken his rhythm? Had I crossed the sacred line between anesthesiologist and patient? Was I stealing his attempt at humor?
Finally, with a touch of wonderment in his voice, he said “That’s my favorite red wine.”
“Yeah, one of mine, too,” I said.
“Where did you learn about it?” I asked.
“Three years ago in Tuscany my wife and I took a side trip from Florence to Montalcino and I had my first glass with dinner there. I love that wine.”
We talked a little more about Italian vino. I felt much more at ease being in the capable hands of a mellow Brunello fellow.
Then he put me under. The procedure was a success.