I just spent a couple of days in hospital as I needed an operation on my foot...
... the right foot.

When I arrived at the hospital, they messed around taking blood samples asking questions and so on and generally 'preparing' me for the OP. One of the questions was 'left or right?'
I answered that it was the right foot. An indelible marker was produced and the right shin was marked with an X.
After starving me for twelve hours, they came along to test my memory. Again, I told them it was the right foot. The marker appeared and an O was drawn around the X!

My bed was wheeled down to the operating area and while I was moved from my bed to the operating table I was again asked, if I could remember which foot was to operated on. Well, you can't trick me that easily! 'The right foot', I told them.
I was then maneuvered into a smaller room, where I was to be prepared for the OP.
A pretty young lady appeared with the magic question and I informed her too that it was the right foot.
She tucked my right arm away under my body with some wedges, attached an arm-rest for my left arm and then an anesthetist appeared. Once more the magic question was asked and correctly answered. I was rewarded with a deep sleep...

I'm sure you know by now where this is leading.
After I had been awake for a while the surgeon arrived at my bedside and asked how I was. He then informed me that he had some good news and some bad news...


... I now have a cut on my left foot with twelve stitches in it.
Oh, he'd realised immediately, of course, that something was amiss.
He was standing right next to a drip which got in his way - most unusual...
... so he too asked the magic question!

Supposedly the operation was a success.
I'll spare you the pictures for this post...