Conversations With Demerol
Those of you who haven't been keeping up with the drama in my life on Twitter will be wondering why I seemed to have abandoned this blog for nearly a week. The truth is, I got very sick last week and, long story short, ended up in the E.R. Sunday, was admitted to the hospital, and had surgery Tuesday morning to remove my rebellious gall bladder. I'm home now, though I still feel high on pain killer and sedation.
Speaking of being high, on Sunday night my pain was so bad, the nurse had to give me the maximum dosage of Demerol to get me comfortable. I've never had the maximum dosage before. Apparently, the maximum dosage makes me talk. A lot. Fortunately for you, my hubby was there to record the moment. He texted a string of interesting comments of mine to Myra and now, for your enjoyment, I give you the following:
C.J. + Demerol = High As A Kite
Whoa. I'm floating. And I want some spaghetti.
Hey! There are two of you now!
I don't really want an iguana.
There is no cactus in this room, I want pancakes.
I like talking.
Mike is going to bring me a peach pie, I'm looking forward to that. Myra can have some.
I don't know why, but I'm just soooo happy right now. I could just hug you. Goodwill to all!"
^at this point my hubby edited my stream of consciousness rambling because apparently I suggested things that are most likely illegal in 48 states.*
mmmmmmmm bjffhhgh cgfdghhh, yeah.
I'm sorry, I just can't seem to stop talking.
I have said any number of things to you in my brain over the last minute. It was too much trouble to open my mouth...but it's open now.
*then I apparently sat up and stuck my tongue out at my hubby*
I want hot tamales (pause) LEMON BARS! The good kind.
There's no spaghetti around here. A real lack of spaghetti.
If I roll out of the wheelchair my boob will fall out of my pocket.
I really like wiener dogs.
No, I don't like wiener dogs.
Nurse says "Hey, I have a wiener dog!"
Cj to nurse, "I'm very sorry for insulting your wiener dog. Do you like them because they are long?"
Move forward to Monday when a different nurse prepared me for the scope down my throat procedure. She sedated me and strapped a thing around my face with a mouthpiece that totally reminded me of the mask Hannibal Lector wore in Silence of the Lambs. Since the sedation had yet to put me under, I was able to reach up, push the mouthpiece aside, look at the nurse and say "Clarice! Come here! I want to eat your liver with a nice Chianti."
I didn't get to add the part about the beans because the sedation finished its job and knocked me out. Which was probably a good thing.
I'm thankful my hubby decided to record all of this in writing, rather than video. The world is not yet ready for a video of me high on Demerol.