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"It would have been funny even if I wasn&amp;#039;t on morphine at the time. Funny, in that twisted way that comes to cancer patients like me and the families who love them and understand they really need a good laugh at the oddest times. The doctor, however, was not amused, and yet, he started it. I was lying face-down on my hospital bed for a bone marrow test. I&amp;#039;ll save the squeamish from the gory details. Just know that it hurt and it was harrowing. Midway through the procedure, the doctor asked me, &amp;quot;Have you ever had morphine?&amp;quot; I answered through gritted teeth, &amp;quot;Yup.&amp;quot; He added, &amp;quot;Did you tolerate it well?&amp;quot; I forced, &amp;quot;Yup.&amp;quot; He asked, &amp;quot;Would you like some now?&amp;quot;  Would I like some morphine now? In the middle of a bone marrow test? I would indeed like some now, and perhaps a glass of water if it&amp;#039;s not too much trouble. YES, I WANT MORPHINE, BUDDY! Why he didn&amp;#039;t ask me that before he started extracting a sample of my bone, I don&amp;#039;t know. But some people are better hosts than others, I suppose.  Also, some people should learn when to turn off their cell phones, because as soon he gave me the morphine and continued the procedure, his phone rang. What kind of ring tone does an oncologist program into his phone? Simon and Garfunkle&amp;#039;s &amp;quot;Bridge Over Troubled Water,&amp;quot; maybe? A simple, old-fashioned phone ring, perhaps? Or just program it to vibrate? No, in the middle of my bone marrow test - to see if the cancer had spread (and it hasn&amp;#039;t) - my doctor&amp;#039;s cell phone played, &amp;quot;Bohemian Rhapsody&amp;quot; by Queen. You know the song: &amp;quot;I see a little silhouetto of a man. Scaramouche, scaramouche will you do the fandango? Thunderbolt and lightning - very, very frightening, me.&amp;quot; Which is why, in the middle of my bone marrow test (and after the morphine kicked in) I began to sing: &amp;quot;Galileo! Galileo! Galileo! Galileo! Galileo figaro - magnifico- But I&amp;#039;m just a poor boy and nobody loves me.&amp;quot; And then my husband chimed in, &amp;quot;He&amp;#039;s just a poor boy from a poor family Spare him his life from this monstrosity.&amp;quot; When the phone stopped playing Queen and my husband and I finished our duet, the doctor sighed and resigned, &amp;quot;You&amp;#039;re going to write about me, aren&amp;#039;t you.&amp;quot; Scaramouche, Doc. Scaramouche. But hey, at least you didn&amp;#039;t answer the phone. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
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