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Blogging under the influence

October 7, 2010

First off, I need to let you all know that I am in a deep state of mourning. A pool wrapped in a puddle wrapped in a river of sadness. I don’t know how I shall ever recover.

What is the source of my mountain of despair? The demise of my beloved cashmere lounge pants, the accompanying piece to my hooded gray cashmere sweater. My cashmere lounge outfit. What  I would wear if I were a better dressed Sue Sylvester, not that far of a reach people.

For five years, this ensemble has been the epitome of my increasingly lazy lifestyle. And now? A whole has worn through part of them. I’m at a loss.

Let’s all take a moment.

Okay then! So I tried to blog this yesterday but my hubs took all technology away from me since without my knowledge I was tweeting gems such as this: “I’m so mellow from anesthesia that I’m cranky if that makes any sense.”

Lucky for me, I fell asleep and was otherwise occupied drooling on myself and missing the dvr of Dexter.

I did, because I love embarrassing myself for you guys, decide to share my pre anesthesia words of wisdom. Errr…idiocy.

From experience, I am well aware that I am exceedingly chatty when under the influence of the type of meds administered in hospitals. Shocking, I know.

Yesterday’s endoscopy experience was no different. I don’t really remember my first endoscopy or colonoscopy, only that my doctor later told me I was very “amusing” and that his nurses were “in stitches.” (no, I didn’t have the heart to tell him that HIS hospital humor is nowhere near as good as mine. And really I think it goes without saying.)

Anyhoo…so yesterday after the “perky” nurse told me to lay as far over on my left side as I could to minimize the chance of choking on my own saliva (lovely, no?) I turned into QUITE the chatterbox.

We were talking about my job and I was explaining why I have 23 names and then I said I wanted chicken wings and she asked if the medicine was working and I was all no, I’m delirious from hunger and thirst and she was all no, I’ve been giving you drugs for twenty minutes. Well, THAT’S good to know.

All of a sudden they put this big green, plastic hard thing in my mouth and tell me I have to hold it in.

Because I am an idiot, I giggled like an idiot and attempted to say, “bring out the gimp!”

Of course, the holiness nurse with her long skirt and miles of hair wrapped in lace comes over and asks, “what’s that dear?”

Always the helpful patient, I take out my mouthpiece thing and say more clearly, but in actuality quite slurry, “bring out the gimp.”

At this point, all five people in the room are gathered around me, I’m sure trying to decide if I need to be held for some sort of psych evaluation and/or possibly restrained. (Yes to both?)

Even in my overly drugged state, I decided to do some ‘splaining. Which went like this: “You know in Pulp Fiction with Bruce Willis, isn’t he hot and have you seen his new vodka print ads? I don’t even like vodka but I’d probably lick him if he was wearing it. Anyways in the movie, I don’t think he was in the scene but maybe the pilot angel dude and Morgan Freeman were, they bring out this weird scary leather dude and he had something in his mouth and it reminds me of that except without the leather because that would be hot. Not cute hot but sweaty hot. And impractical. And weird. And I don’t know what happened after that because I think I walked out of the movie. That and Natural Born Killers are the only movies I’ve ever walked out of but I wish I had left Silence of the Lambs. I saw it in eighth grade and am still traumatized PLUS I got grounded because I wasn’t allowed to see it and lied and said I was going to see King Ralph and…”

“Honey, we really need to put this back in your mouth, okay?”

“Okay, I just didn’t want you to think I was some kind of weirdo or crazy person for talking about gimps.”

And….that’s all I, vaguely, remember.

Except one nurse told me I also sang them a medley of Wicked songs.

And I couldn’t figure out how to put my bra on. And I don’t remember anything the doc told me in recovery. And apparently every twenty minutes my hubs and I had the same conversation.

I’m such a fun patient.

You guys had any entertaining doctor/anesthesia/medical stories? Hopefully?

In general blogginess news, the Top Mommy Blogs people reset everyone to zero and I am hurting and because I’m oddly competitive, even when it comes to weird internet poles, I would LOVE you all to vote for me by clicking crazy juggling chickadee to the right and then clicking “click to vote.” Pretty please with sparkles and anesthesia on top?

Also, I’m still TRYING to give the internets $100 Amazon gift card. When I get to 500 “likers” on old facebook, I will somehow figure out how to do a random drawing. And if you recommend me to your friends, and other than MANY obvious reasons, I can’t see why you wouldn’t and someone you refer wins, you get a $50 Amazon gift card. So please like me over hereish.

I am trying DESPERATELY to get back in the comment and blogging swing and if I could quit spending days passed out, I think that would help.

© Amy Lloyd Mayfield and Amy’s Blam, 2010. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Amy Lloyd Mayfield and Amy’s Blam with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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9 Comments leave one →
  1. October 7, 2010 4:44 AM

    hiya tribemate!

    your post reminded me when i drank some headache pills whilst watching a movie on TV. I think it was the tragic “300”. after becoming intoxicated with the pills, i started babbling about the movie and its ending, my hubby thought i was talking about our family having a sad, sad life. what drama afterwards! and me, with no strength to fight, except for my incoherent language.

    when i woke the next day, i had loads of explaining to do. my hubby was really cross.

  2. October 7, 2010 7:43 AM

    ROFLMAO!!! Been there, done that with the colonoscopy fun, I talked to peeps that were not there…only in my mind. Much of what I did/said was not shared with me other than prior to Diprivan I was combative under the ‘sedation’ they used to use. Diprivan makes me happier.

    I went with my son for a throat procedure when he was 21 and got to see what I must be like (much like what you describe above) and wished I had a phone with video because I’d have you-tubed that one!

  3. October 7, 2010 8:17 AM

    Anesthesia turns me into a bitch. I’m quite crabby with everyone. So, better to be funny, my dear!

  4. October 7, 2010 8:35 AM

    Hello tribey! Coupla things. Sue Sylvester is my idol. Get yourself another snazzy sweat suit, stat!

    Also, I’m tons of fun under the influence of mind altering drugs as well. The ones they give you in the hospital mess with me too! Like, after I had my 2nd son, the post c-section pain killers had me so crack-head crazy I nearly tossed my newborn infant out the window! Not on purpose (that was later, when we got home & he wouldn’t stop crying for 39 hours straight), it was the drugs! Dang things gave me the shakes something wicked!

    So, I guess I’ll follow you here and on Twitter and on Facebook (do you have a Facebook page) and every where else I can find you online. Hope you’re not signed up for any creepy type sites because I like to stalk people completely and I will find it!

  5. October 7, 2010 9:19 AM

    Honey!!! You are over at my blog every day telling me to feel better and here you are having a PROCEDURE!!! You’re too much. I hope all your results are just perfect.

    Here’s my anesthesia story. I had my wisdom teeth pulled out last year. Before I went under, my oral surgeon told my hubs that when we got home, he should get one of my bras, fill it with ice and hook it around my face. Ingenious, right? Well . . . except for one thing.

    He got me home, put me in the bed and filled one of my bras with ice and hooked it around my face. Problem was, the ice kept falling out. Seems I didn’t have enough ta ta’s to hold ice. I mumbled to him in my stupor and told him to get my daughter’s bra. My daughter did not inherit my Ta Ta DNA. She is a 34 DDD, perfect for ice holding.

    He hooked me up and then got the girls from school. When my daughter came in my room and saw me still all groggy with her bra hooked around my face, she stomped her foot and said, “Great! Now you’re wearing my bras around your face?”

    Like I do that all the time.

    I’m sending prayers and blessings your way.

  6. October 7, 2010 3:51 PM

    You crack me the hell up (though I sincerely hope you are in full recovery mode!). You sound like a lot of fun under the influence of anesthesia. I can’t remember doing anything quite as amusing when I was having my wisdom teeth extracted, but then again, I was focused on the constant noise of the drill. Boo. I’m enjoying the stories I’m hearing here though. Ice-filled bra around the face sounds like a great idea–wish my dentist had told me about that trick!

  7. October 7, 2010 6:25 PM

    O-M-G that is hilarious. I had some outpatient surgery about a year ago and the last thing I remember saying before it was all ‘lights out’ for me was, “I feel funky” much like the older sister did who’s getting married in 16 Candles and is wacked out on painkillers for her cramps.

    My condolences on your cashmere lounge pants. I suffered the loss of a beloved pair of yoga pants about a month ago. Sometimes, it’s just their time.

  8. October 7, 2010 10:04 PM

    Welcome back to reality. Sorta. Also? Has anyone done an evaluation of your thought processes because I am pretty sure they’re 874% unique. And that’s a compliment. Trust me. (And now: a moment of silence for the beloved cashmere lounge pants.)

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