Note: I started this post while under the influence of vicodin…and then I got sick and spent the rest of the day trying not to puke.

“Drugs are bad. Mmmmkay.” Unless they are prescription meds for pain and/or nausea. I typically get sick from vicodin, but phenergan negates the sickness. All in all, it wasn’t percocet, but I got hooked up. Read: stoned out of my mind. I took a lot of naps.

I drove to the hospital that morning expecting to pretty much be alone until after surgery. The hubby gets off work at the time I was scheduled for surgery, and that was fine. I really wasn’t at all concerned about the procedure. Wasn’t scared other than my typical insecurity-based fear of spending the morning with a bunch of strangers or nearly strangers since I had only seen the ENT once. Oh I knew my pastor was going to come by for a little while, but I knew he had a prior commitment. So I was quite pleasantly surprised when I walked in the door and there sat Ms. Ruth.

Me: “What are you here for?”
Ruth: (pointing at me) “You.”

She had already talked with the staff & knew who my nursing team was, and used to work with 2 of them plus had worked with my ENT before she retired. “You have the A-Team this morning.” I had already been given the low-down the day before during pre-op not to bring anything but myself to include not wearing wedding ring if I could get it off. So I was there with the clothes on my back, my drivers license, and just the key for the Neon; the latter 2 items only because I drove myself there. But with Ms. Ruth there, I gave her my license and key to hang on to, and didn’t have to worry about that. Not that I think I had anything to worry about from my team. They were great.

The nurses warned me about the sedative they were giving me prior to going to the OR. Things like, some people get and tell them “Do whatever you want,” and even “You may not remember anything.” They also told me I would feel really really good for the first 45 seconds. I feel cheated because I didn’t really start feeling it until they got me in the OR. I remember the trip to the OR, I remember moving from the bed to the table, I remember a woman telling me she was going to put on oxygen mask, I remember it going on, and I remember the anesthesiologist & nurses wrapping me really tight with a blanket, and then there was just than woman who gave me the oxygen waking me up. I don’t remember really anything she said to me, but I remember coughing a lot and not being able to answer a question for coughing. I apologized for taking so long my coughing and she said, “That’s fine. It’s good that you are coughing.” I remember her apologizing for something she had to do and I remember saying “It’s all gravy on this train, dawg.” That is probably the least goofy thing I have ever said post-surgery. haha

And then I got sick. Not a sudden I’m gonna puke sick, but a room is spinning motion-sickness kind of sick. They gave me crackers and I only managed one because I had the worst case of cotton-mouth ever. The ride home was terrible. Oddly, I don’t remember the off ramp exit from highway 1. I have troubles with it making me sick as a passenger when there is nothing wrong. But, we got home and I got ready to pass back out, and when I went to the bathroom I was quite sure that I was going to throw up that one cracker and the water I washed it down with. I didn’t though, and made it back to the recliner where I proceeded to pass out until the hubster returned with the ginger ale.

This is as far as I got that day.

The cracker broke my gluten free diet, and the ginger ale broke my no high fructose corn syrup diet. I proceeded to eat like crap for the next few days. And when I thought I was better, I wasn’t. I felt great on Saturday. And so, I thought Sunday morning would be a breeze. Wrong. I knew by the time I got to church, I was going to struggle, and so by the time Sunday School was over, I told Bob and/or Judy that I was probably going to sit down after the contemporary songs. But I felt a little better after the last contemporary, so I stayed up for the 3 hymns. Big mistake. I did good to walk to the car when church was over. Came home, ate, and decided to take a little nap. 4 hours later I woke up with a pounding headache and decided that I was not going to evening service. But since finishing off the last of the antibiotics Thursday morning, I’m feeling pretty good now. Except for a pulled back, but that is unrelated.

So as I was running errands this afternoon, I was thinking again about what happened in the OR. I now know the point at which I was the sedative rendered me willing to do whatever, and it was right around the time they transferred me to the operating table. At that point, honey badger no longer cared. That may or may not make sense with the rest of the post, but I’m really not going to re-read (fully) what I wrote under the influence. I’ll clarify later if anyone cares. haha

I seem to have a predisposition for clumsiness and poor judgement. So consider this a wall of shame of some of my embarrassing moments. There is mostly physical clumsiness involved, but one does involve an incident with the police.

1. 11th grade. One day I was in a hurry at the end of the school day. I had been out on trip that afternoon with the drama club (Thespians for the cultured – lol), and we got back right as school ended. I was rushing because I wanted to ride home with my friend rather than walk home, so I came out of the auditorium at a run, down the stairs, and 3 steps from the bottom…faceplant…in front of the half of the high school that was walking out to the parking lot…now laughing at my clumsy self. Ok, it wasn’t really a faceplant as I was able to keep my face off the sidewalk that I slid across, but I do have a scar on my left hand which hit first and took the brunt of my weight. It was traumatic at 17.

2. This is from college, and it’s not one incident because it happened several times. Whenever I had a class in the “basement” of Main, I seemed to have a class following that one on the 1st floor of Main, requiring traversing up a flight of stairs. I don’t know what it was with that stairwell, but I have fallen up those stairs more times than I can count.

3. Speaking of stairs, when I was in England, I worked on the second floor. One day, I had gone downstairs for a soda and chips, and 4 steps from the top, I tripped. Soda can (unopened) and chip bag (also unopened) went flying into the room (an open bay separated by 5ft cubicle walls), and my upper body landed in a sort of incline push-up position as I was thinking “Please don’t anyone be sitting in that first desk.” As I look to my right, yeah, that was witnessed. They were nice enough to make sure I was ok before they laughed. Did I mention it’s a metal staircase and the fall was very loud?

4. Same stairs, different direction. Heading downstairs with a couple other co-workers, and halfway down, my feet went out from under me. I managed to grab both rails quick enough to catch myself, and pull my arms from my body. Ok, my arms didn’t pull loose, but they hurt bad enough from the save. They were not, however, strong enough to save my pride.

5. Happy birthday. For my daughter’s first birthday, we had photos made, and stopped to eat. We thought it would be cute to have the waitstaff to do the happy birthday thing for her, and it was cute. She looked at them like they were crazy, but we got a kick out of it. We also had a pact (I thought) to never do that to one another. So, fast forward several years…to England. A bunch of us from work decided to do one of the MWR trips to London one night. Just so happened that night was my birthday. I had been very careful not to mention that fact to anyone but the women, because I knew they would have my back. And they kept it quiet, but the hubster did mention it to one of the guys as we picked him and his wife up and dropped our heatherns off with theirs for babysitting. So, here we are sitting down for dinner in some restaurant in London, and the other 2 ladies and I had to go to the bathroom. Yes, we went in a pack. The 4 men kept the table. By desert time, I was leaning toward a certain one, but both our waitress, and a couple of the guys insisted on a different desert, and, well, I was probably pretty toasted by then anyway, and said “Ok, whatever.” Now, let me describe for you, if I can, the room. I’m sure it doubled as a club, and so you had a lower level, and an upper level that surrounded the lower on 3 sides. Being close to Christmas there were several obvious office parties seated at large tables on the lower section. We were seated on the upper level opposite the door against the railing overlooking the lower level. Best seats in the house. And it was happening before I really realized it. At first I didn’t notice that more than just our waitress were serving desert, but as it dawned on me what they were doing, it was waaaay too late to hide as they were making me stand up…as if on a stage…in front of dozens of total English strangers…totally entertained…while I was totally mortified by the waitstaff singing happy birthday to me. And the ring leader of that little bit of fun threatened to do it again later as we waited in another restaurant/bar unless I did tequila shots. Needless to say, I slept the whole way back to base.

6. Speaking of birthdays, about 4 years ago while home visiting my mom, we got up and went to church with her. Now this was the first time in nearly 20 years I had been to a full morning’s service there, and funny enough, it is still the same schedule as it was when I was going 20-something years ago. But anyway, there were a few little details I had forgotten, namely that following the morning devotional prior to being released to Sunday School, the church sings Happy Birthday and/or Happy Anniversary to anyone who has celebrated either in the last week. Did I mention this was my first time there in nearly 20 years? Yeah, so Mom elbowed me, and got the dirty look, which was like pouring gas on a flame. She had backup as my aunt and my cousin on the other side of her joined in and by this time all 3 of them are pointing at me. Yeah, they make you stand up there too. Yes, I was the only one…and mortified yet again.

7. Let me back up to junior high…7th grade. At the risk of being named a total dork, I was able (by the skin of my teeth) to compete in our county’s spelling bee. Same auditorium that I would fall down in front of 4 years later. haha So, I was waiting in the lobby with my parents before, and being bored out of my skull, I was checking every thing out I could while checking the parking lot for the other 2 girls from my school to get there. I walked over to the front doors, and had to get up close to the glass to see out as it was getting dark, and misjudged the distance between my face and the glass totally smacking my forehead hard, and being my head, loud. At least the glass didn’t shatter.

And lets wrap this up since I am getting redundant.

8. Yes, I saved the best for last. Back in the day, while we were dating, the hubster and I went parking. At the worst possible moment (or best depending on your perspective), there was the tapping on the side of the van followed by the voice of a deputy announcing his presence and ordering the driver to exit. He just happened to be notoriously hostile toward certain folks (which included my husband), and so he proceeded to search the vehicle. Thankfully, he spared me from having to come out from behind the curtain, but any cover was blown when his backup showed up…who graduated high school with the hubby, and had quite a nice chat catching up with the hubby while deputy #1 frustratingly found no drugs or alcohol. At least there was no citation and just a “Go find someplace else to park” warning. I still don’t think I can look deputy #2 in the eye without getting completely and totally embarrassed.

Last Christmas, we found a “new” house for my mom. Now when we went over to the house to look at it, Mom had misplaced her coat, and so I gave her my leather biker jacket. Naturally, I took a picture of her in it and sent it to my cousins. My cousin Carolyn told me that I should make a collage of sorts of that photo of Mom along with a couple others that make her look like a party animal. Now, to fully appreciate that, you have to know my mom. She has never drank other than tasting whiskey once when she was a kid (which took care of ever trying it again) and tasting wine that Uncle Hoss made. She is hardly what anyone would call a party animal, and wasn’t even when she was young.

I guess it was about 3 Christmases ago, my mom asked me for like 3 or 4 weeks if I had gotten a Christmas card from Carolyn yet. It got to the point that I was starting to wonder what the big deal was. Then I got the card. A couple months prior to that, Carolyn’s daughter Jill got married, and they had a big wedding at an old plantation house. I guess my family was picking on mom pretty heavy about her not drinking and even picked to the point of telling her that she wouldn’t even be able to bring herself to pick up and empty beer bottle. Mom being Mom (and this sort of thing runs in the family) proved that she could pick up an empty beer bottle and even pretend to drink it. Naturally someone got a photo and Carolyn turned that photo into a Christmas card and sent it out to the whole family which just embarrassed the fire out of Mom.

Sometime either before or after that incident, Mom went on a trip with some of the family to their aunt’s birthday party. On the way back they stopped to eat in Memphis, and it just happened to be a blue’s bar. Again, that’s a picture that circulated around the family, and those 3 photos went into the frame that I found. I was looking for just the right frame since before summer, and finally found it (which was the last one left) a couple weeks ago.

She will not be able to deny the humor, but will still be mortified that I put those all together like that. So while she will love it, she will hate it at the same time. :devil: