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?”

I paused.

“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.