My Brush with Insanity (Post-Surgery Blues)

waiting for my last crepe in Paris 2009

When I found out I was being hooked up to an IV pre-surgery I laughed and laughed. The anxiety of an IV just hit me right in the funny bone. A month later (yesterday) I found myself giggling like mad again as I changed into my hospital gown. Then things were getting black and I could hear me laughing before feeling the sudden needle prick, and I burst into tears.

Next thing I know I'm somewhere dark. I can't see anything. My cheeks hurt and are very cold. Eggs are filling my mouth.

This was actually a few hours after the surgery. I don't remember waking up or leaving the office or a darn thing even though apparently I was talking to my dad and sister and fully able to walk to the car myself. I apparently demanded to watch Third Rock from the Sun and accepted to eat some egg. But, as I said previously, all I was conscious of is someone cramming egg into my mouth.

An hour or so later I woke up to Back to the Future. From that point on I thought I was my old self again--even with the gauze in. Uh. No. I actually didn't regain non-crazy form until around 10 PM.

Things that Happened (when I thought I was fine but actually I was still on the bus to wacko-land):

-whined to no end about the gauze in my mouth but also demanded my sister take pictures
-in a panic asked, "why is my lip...so close to my lip?"
-tried to drink some salt water, but it dribbled out onto my crotch, so when my sister returned I announced sadly, "I peed."
-drooled all over
-had at least three conversations about the same four topics with absolutely no recollection of it: wanting to watch Sex and the City DVDs and being heartbroken when Pookie said she didn't bring them, asking about why the ice packs on my face were so cold, my astonishment of how drugged I must have been to not remember leaving the surgery, and what I was going to do about my broken computer
-speaking of, I USED my computer several times yesterday because every time I woke up I thought I was fine when really I was still cracked out--many IM conversations I do not remember and I'm pretty sure I submitted poetry to a few journals
-went to the bathroom and was so happy I decided to live there, had a laughing attack about my new life in the bathroom with my sister outside the door worrying I was crying
-when I did decide not to live in the bathroom I came out to the couch and sobbed yelling, "It's not even funny! It's from here (pointing to my gut) not from here (pointing to my head)!"

I am never doing hard drugs.