I blame it on the strong pain meds, but some guys just don't take no for an answer. Or maybe it was that jar of peanut butter . . . I just have a hard time believe I'm simply that irresistible.
That's right . . . I had another funny marriage proposal from my patient today . . . yup, the same patient. Due to a drum of activity in the OR this morning, there was about half an hour that he and I had to wait for someone to come give him pain meds. I was feeling very proud of myself as I had 'talked' (okay, 'charaded') him into cleaning and redressing the burns on his right leg himself . . . med-free. But, as they say, no good deed goes unpunished.
A: Wagi wej avija lvwiojbb wqigj w.kinseljij.
Deb.: Babu Hausa de yaoua (direct translation: No Hausa of a lot . . . in other words: I only speak a little Hausa).
A: Akwai Hausa. (There is Hausa . . . or: stop telling me you don't speak Hausa, we communicate every day.)
Deb.: You know what I mean.
A: (makes sign for 'Hey, woman, what do you say, want to marry me???' then points toward the door and holds up two fingers) Giddanna (my house).
Deb.: WHAT?!?!? AGAIN?!?!?! NO! Babu marriage. Babu giddanka. (no marriage, no your house)
(Enter Chief of Surgery)
A: (to COS, pointing at amputated leg) Slajkv aabvnwa jdwoia vajsoig. Wojia voiavoi abin a momw viano ib iwn avinih howia mowivs.
COS: (laughing too hard to answer)
Deb.: Okay, what did he say?
COS: (still laughing hard) He said he understands why you won't marry him . . . he doesn't have a foot, therefore you can't follow him.
Deb.: He does realize I'm an American woman and we don't 'follow' very well . . . one foot or two.
A: (holding up two fingers again) Bbalid lakj vjoiqj;' aklfj boijqkreb lkfjbijsflijfdbal ja livjl lkavlivjj qwlk aksldj ibj eklfalkjvlakjgi wjdl adlajv.
COS: (another roar of laughter).
Deb.: Great, what did I say wrong now?
COS: No! He said you told him correctly! He knows that Christian woman don't believe in plural marriage, but he was hoping you would change your mind.