Some surgeons just need to be kissed

So I'm waiting for the surgeon to come give my mom the last pat on the back and mark her hip - as in, "Cut Here, dumbshit." I'm giving her a Reiki treatment and all is going great. Hip replacement surgery - or as hubby calls it, getting a new suspension under the hood - is as commonplace as a well-placed adverb, so no one is nervous.

The doc arrives, all business, and marks her hip. He looks at me as I have my hands wrapped around Mom's feet. "Feet cold?" No, sez I, Reiki treatment. He beams. That's fabulous, he says through a big smile. That ought to be standard protocol as far as I'm concerned.

So, like, I'm in love.

Surgery went well. Mom has a new suspension, and I have a new buddy in the medical field. All is well.