More of a visual than I needed; and, the Resurgence of "Damn It"

A few days ago, I made an appointment for the husband to have a cyst on his back looked at. He's had it before but it came back. The last removal not so complete as it should have been.
Anyway, he goes to the Doctor who decides that they'll just remove it right then and proceed to lead him back to surgery.

The room is not that large since it is meant for minor operation only. You walk into one doorway from one hall and directly across from that doorway is another leading to the other hallway. The bed is positioned in the middle of the room and there are chairs at the head of either side.

I have a 50/50 shot at choosing the chair with the least visual impact. I choose the one on the right side of his head-- or the one on the other side of the room.

My husband lays down face first on the operating table and they pull out this needle to numb his back. If you know me, you know how absolutely terrified of needles I am, but I figured since the needle was being used on HIM, I would be fine.

I was wrong.

I had to look away while they numbed his back so that they could cut into it-- and I still got queasy and light-headed.

The Doctor leaves to let the anesthetic go to work and then returns about 10 minutes later and sets up position, you guessed it, on the opposite side of me. I have now a full and complete visual of everything that is happening. The nurse meanwhile is laughing about this because she remembers my muttered comment about choosing the chair that will have the LEAST visual and is telling the Doctor about this, who in turn starts laughing.

But that muffled laughter was nothing compared to the full bellied chuckles they got a few minutes later when my cell phone rang and I pronounced that I needed to leave to go pick up the baby-- their gnawfs of "Are you sure that call wasn't planted" following me down the hall.
Me on the other hand... I now have a visual of someone digging with scissors in my husband's back that I seriously could have lived without. Thanks!

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We've gone through a few rounds of telling the short person that she needs to say "Darn it" instead of "Damn it". I finally cured it in a matter of speaking by telling her that when she looked like Grandpa she could say "Damn it" too.

For a long time that reasoning worked. It worked to the point that she was telling Daddy that only Grandpa could say it whenever those chosen words left his lips.

Tonight, the little character almost outsmarted me.

She comes into the living room, lounges against the couch, and looks up at me.

"I look like Grandpa now."

"You do?" God help me, I think I know where this conversation is headed.

"Yep! I do. So... can I say Damn it now?"

My mind races through response after response.

"Well, honey... I know you look a little like Grandpa but there are... other factors."

"Fectors?"

"Yes. Like, I still think you're a little young yet. And... you don't have as many wrinkles as Grandpa." I pause wondering if this will do it, but she turns her face up at me.

"Please? I want to say Damn it."

"Hmm... well, maybe you should ask your Daddy." The ultimate cop out for those times when you know you are outsmarted and need back up assistance. This unfortunately happens altogether too often in our house but between the two of us we've somehow managed to stay ahead.

The short person wanders into the hall, I hear the door to our bedroom swing open and I turn back to watching the basketball highlights on television. A few minutes later, she returns.

"What did Daddy say? Did he say you look like Grandpa?"

"Yep!"

"Oh... well, what else did he say?"

"Dern it, dern it, dern it."