The Haze

I think about what I want to remember on surgery days. Because I have had two major surgeries now, and they were both planned, i could prepare. I had time to think about what I wanted to do, what I wanted to remember, and with this surgery, almost pre-plan what I wanted to write about. Funny, the twists planning brings us.

I wanted to remember the name of my Anesthesiologist. I wanted to remember the music playing in the Operating Room. I wanted to remember my time in the recovery room, so I could accurately write about it.

I can't. I don't. It's a haze. That drives me crazy.

I like to think that I have a great memory. Great recall of events, and I cannot remember. How damn hard is it to remember a song, even a genre? Dr. Hollins seems like a classical music guy. Definitely not opera. If not classical, then classic rock for sure. I don't see Boot Scootin Boogie playing in the OR while he is performing his art. Yes, I said art. He is an artist. So I want to think it was Classical, and unless he tells me, I will never know. I can't freaking remember.

It's a haze.

I cannot remember the Drug Dealers name either. I call her the Drug Dealer, truthfully because it is easier than thinking about the spelling of Anesthesiologist every time, and she gets paid to make me feel good. Really, that is her job. She gets paid to ensure I feel no pain. Make the cares of the world go away. I Imagine it would be difficult to be the child of an Anesthe...Hell, Drug Dealer. Think about your kid having to take you to share a parent day and your child having to write Anesthesiologist on the board in front of the class. It would be traumatic, and again since her job was to make me feel good - I choose to call her my Drug Dealer. I get the really good stuff from her.

She gave me the Haze.

Again, I remember nothing about the recovery room. Must be a really boring unremarkable place, as I have no memories of it.

It is a Haze.

I don't remember my ride to my room. Haze.

Wait, I think we bumped into the wall while I was being transported. Not sure. Haze.

I guess it is good that it all was a haze. There was a movie released in December of 2007 called "Awake". It talks about the,omg, fact that 30000 people per year actually feel something during surgery and remember it. From pulling to, you guessed it, the whole kit and caboodle. Yes complete cutting, tearing and ripping. Now that deserves an OMG. 100 people per day, awake enough during surgery to feel and remember it.

It is a haze. I am glad it was.

So here I am, day one of the new me. And it is a haze. I know, bad grammar. I never promised proper grammar with this blog. Just stories. Today, it is a haze, and for that I thank my Drug Dealer.

Now I am wondering why I have the song, I've got friends in low places, stuck running through my head????? Hmmm, it's a haze.