A Biting Lesson for My Surgeon

God gave me trophy ears one could reasonably liken to handles on a ‘World’s Greatest Dad’ or cheap bowling trophy. It was as if He took a Valentines’-heart, cut it down the middle, and attached each side to my head, which was fodder for endless childhood taunts of “Monkey Face,” so hurtful, that I banned bananas from my lunch pail to 8 years' puzzlement of my mom.
A serious ear infection in my 20s caused my whole damned ear to swell and hang off my left side, and very painfully so.


The surgeon ordered a dreamy and wonderful pre-op med, local anesthesia, and I was conscious for whatever procedure they were doing.


During the operation, he made an offer I couldn’t refuse, “Ya know, while I have you on the table, I can make an unnoticeable incision on the back of each of your ears, excise a small, vertical piece of cartilage and it will effective pin-back your ears, softening your appearance if you wish,” and who could say ‘No’ to that!


Sandbagged onto my side, I tired of the surgeon’s crotch being pushed against my face as he worked, so I took the cloth of his scrubs between my teeth, tugged the cloth to mean business, and without losing my death-clench on his crotch-cloth, said “If you don’t get your dick out of my face, I’m gonna bite it off,” to where he dropped his instruments, backed-off, and doubled-over to laugh with the rest of the surgical team.