Back and even better than before
So in case you’re not a comment-reader (and shame on you) here’s your update. I was drugged and man-handled by a doctor, two nurses and an anesthesiologist. Actually, due to that last one and her fabulous, fabulous drugs, I can’t really be sure what happened. She told me I had great hair (“so straight!”) and then wham, I was asleep. I dreamt that it was the night before the procedure and that I was stressed out thinking about it. Then I woke up and I was at the procedure but it was actually over. Could anything be sweeter? But how do they do that, I ask you? How can you be totally, 100%, in a deep, deep sleep and then they can wake you up and you’re pretty much solidly awake? I can’t even wake up when someone calls me before my alarm clock goes off. The same thing happened to me last summer when I had my wisdom teeth out. I was so asleep that I didn’t notice several people wrenching two teeth out of my mouth and then there I was was getting out of the chair and walking away.
I went home and ate a croissant and jam, up there with the top 5 croissants I have ever consumed, and then slept for many blissful hours. Then I was awake for many irritating hours in the middle of the night. Where was my anesthesiologist and her love for my hair then? But it’s OK, tonight I am going to sleep at ten. Eleven. Before midnight, I swear. I need to see who wins the All-Star game so that I can see some other team enjoy home-field advantage since it won’t be mine. And it was worth it just to see Paula Cole sing God Bless America, because I thought she was dead. My anesthesiologist would really love her hair.
Anyway, my doc says I can start doing my 2.5 mile walks again tomorrow but sadly it’s 102 degrees at the moment and I’m afraid of melting into a pool of Becca. I forgot to notice between the air-conditioned car and the air-conditioned hospital and my air-conditioned apartment, but, um, it’s roasting out there. And thanks to the humidity, my hair just isn’t that straight anymore. But it’s OK, all is well with the world now that I’m not restricted to green jello, which used to be a novelty act but is now just a bowl of quivering sugar. And I’m sure I’ll be tempted back into the world of exercise once my new iPod Nano and Nike+ kit arrive. Well, actually, the Nike+ part and the case I ordered are here already, just not the actual Nano. Because Steve Jobs hates me. And, being that I have a burning MacBook on my lap in 102 degree weather, the feeling’s pretty mutual. I think I will abruptly end this post….. now.
I used to perform a searing rendition of that Madonna song when I was a teen. Yes, the pun was intended.
I missed the all star game because I was at a Roger Waters concert getting a contact high and watching drunk 20 somethings trip over my shoes.
Anesthesia rocks. I am glad you are back on the mend.
Enjoy your new iPod etc.
Glad you’re doing okay, Becca. I thought about you yesterday and wished you well! I hope you enjoy your new iPod nano and Nike+ kit! You’ll have to let us know how you like them both (and I’m sure you will)!
Drugs are good, mmkay?
Glad to hear you woke up from surgery! That’s my fear every time they knock me out.
I have never been put out in my life for anything (other than alcohol poisoning) so I have quite the fear of this.
This week has been useless for excercising.
KP, thanks, etc.. You didn’t miss much, really. I don’t even know why I watch that thing.
Dog, thanks! And I wish it would freaking get here. The mailroom guy is afraid to pass by my office because I keep jumping on him.
Ima, my fear is more that the anesthesia won’t work and that I’ll feel pain. Scares the shit out of me. If I never wake up, it’ll be my family’s problem; I won’t even know.
Mike, it’s kind of like that except no hangover. And yeah, I did my power walk at 8am today when it was a refreshing 78 degrees. The haze was so thick, though, that I couldn’t see the GW Bridge from Riverside Park where it’s usually the most prominent landmark.
you dream during anaesthesia? I never have. It’s always been: nurses bustling in and out around me, someone puts warm blankets on my arms (ahhhhh), a bright shining light in my eyes, a pair of gorgeous brown eyes peeking through a blue and white face hovers over me, a muffled voice cracks a bad joke, says “ok, now, can you count to ten backwards for me?” and then all of a sudden the light is gone, the room is cold, and the doctor is saying, “Welcome back! it’s all over.”
(why is it that the eyes are always gorgeous? I think I’ve developed crushes on all my anesthesiologists right before they put me under.)
Glad you came back with all your parts intact.