Anesthesia and The Queen Of Crazyville

My friend Jamie mentioned in passing the other night that she is getting her wisdom teeth out soon, and that she hopes she doesn't say something ridiculous to her mother when she is all drugged up and the effects of the anesthesia are wearing off.

I can understand completely where she is coming from, for I am an all too frequent visitor of post-surgery drug induced crazyville. In fact you might even say I am the Queen of crazyville. Its really terrible that when you finally are released from the incoherent stupor, people try and hold you accountable for things that you did and said in your deranged state. For example, my first time offense happened when I was in the 4th grade, getting my very first colonoscopy done (please feel free to feel sorry for me.) The anesthesia happened to wear off in the middle of the procedure and the nurse, in an effort to distract me from the painful tube shoved up in no mans land, asked me if I had any siblings. The answer (YES!) might seem like it should be a simple one to produce, but try as I might I drew a big blank. Finally, I answered, "I just don't remember, but I have a cat named Cinder." And then my doctor felt it only right to pass this little tidbit along to my entire family. So much for doctor patient confidentiality! Shouldn't there be a code of conduct or something, sort of like "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas..." A what happens in the operating room under the influence of heavy sedatives and anesthesia STAYS in the operating room? As if the doctor hasn't already inflicted enough pain upon my nether regions, lets just pass along a bit of info that the sister can bring up whenever she feels she has been slighted. "So what I wore your favorite shirt without asking, at least I didn't forget I had a sister!" and so forth.

My sister, I must say while we are on the topic, was quite delightful in the immediate hours following the removal of her wisdom teeth. I'm not sure I have ever seen her flirt with anyone, but apparently on the car ride home mom stopped by McDonald's and she practically threw herself at the guy in the drive-through window. After my mom managed to detain her and drive the rest of the way home, she comes flying out of the car and into the house, running circles around the kitchen, occasionally stopping to let our dog Zoe lick the blood filled cotton swabs shoved in her mouth. Then she sits down and begins the daunting task of bringing spoonfuls of milkshake to her numb mouth, only to let it surge right back out in a rush of chocolaty drool down her chin. It was a little like watching that scene in "The Sixth Sense" where Mischa Barton's character throws up that horrible clay looking stuff, only more entertaining.

But do I, her wonderful kindhearted sister, hold her obnoxious uncensored behavior over her head when I am upset with her? No. And I only showed the video evidence at really momentous occasions, like her graduation party...

My friend Amy also likes to bring up quite frequently my verbal assault on her when I had my wisdom teeth out. I had just gotten home, checked my phone for missed calls, and seeing as I had none, through my phone on the floor in anguish. Then, I picked it up and left a little message on Amy's phone that went a little something like, "Why haven't you called me, you evil scumbag? Is it so much to ask that I get a little love from my friends after I have just had bones brutally cut and ripped from my face leaving two gaping holed in my head? You are a terrible person. Goodbye." Now, if she had only bore witness to the scene that had just taken place on the car ride home, she may have been a bit more understanding, even forgiving. There is a reason you don't drunk dial your friends. Apparently, when I am uninhibited, I just get mean.

But it's not like anesthesia is without its perks. Lets digress for a moment to the car ride home from getting my wisdom teeth out, before I made a spectacle of myself on Amy's voice mail. I wake up from the procedure feeling extremely happy, and spent the next 15 minutes profusely thanking the nurse for her wonderful care and wishing her merry Christmas a billion times. So far, so good - just an extremely gracious you lady having a jolly old time with the nurse. Unfortunately, my behavior goes downhill from there. Naturally, next I looked around the room and inquired as to how my good friend Justin Timberlake was doing. After all, I saw him getting his wisdom teeth out in the chair next to mine, and he was wearing a really nice suit. And that nurse had the audacity to tell me that Justin wasn't there, raining on my parade and all that jazz. Then, my mom tried to usher me out to the car, at which point I flatly refused to leave with her. "Mom, the hobbits are going to carry me home on their backs!" Could she honestly expect me to pass up a free ride on the back of Samwise the Brave? I think not. But, after a little more cajoling I was finally all buckled in and ready to go. But then I saw my mom do a horrible thing, she pushed the little white bunnies perched upon the center divider onto the floor of our car. I called my dad in a panic, "Dad, she's killing the white bunnies!" I proclaimed, on the verge of tears. Just when my mom thought she finally had gotten it through to me that there were no white bunnies in the car, I started screaming bloody murder. My mom reflexively hits the breaks as I stare out the window in horror. Couldn't she see that she was about to run over all the little children in the middle of the road? And even worse, I wondered aloud, why weren't they more concerned about getting their bottoms all wet sitting in the slushy snow. My mom took me to McDonald's as well, to pick up a milkshake, but I wanted nothing to do with that, demanding nothing but sweet tea (which I definitely don't drink). When my mom reminded me of this small detail, my eyes flashed red and I yelled, "Get me the sweet tea now!" All I can do is hope our car windows were rolled up and no one called the cops to report mother abuse. Anyway, I bet you are now thinking, well, where are the perks of going under that I mentioned above. Well let me tell you, I had an absolutely marvelous time screaming at my mom about bunnies and children in the middle of the road and my sweet tea. I'm not sure the experience was quite as wonderful for her, but what can you do?

A lot more recently I was recovering from another surgery and was doped up on some heavy narcotics. This time, I whispered to my friend visiting me in the hospital, "Look at my grandma's hair - its on fire! Don't stare at her though it makes her very self conscious." It could have been worse though - I could have been hallucinating hundreds of bugs crawling all over my bed or little children peering up over her feet like my roommate.

Anyway, good luck with your wisdom teeth extraction Jamie. And call me before the anesthesia wears completely off.