From the Haze of Anaesthesia

I took The Husband to the oral surgeon this morning. Following a horrendous experience with a dead tooth, damaged nerve, and a subsequent extraction, he had an implant inserted into the hole where the tooth once lived. This isn't the first time that he has had this procedure, so both of us are experienced in the method and the aftercare. I went along for the ride because given the fact that he was placed under a general anaesthetic, driving himself would have been a criminal offence and cause for a flunked sobriety test.

Aside from absolutely freezing in the waiting room, (it is really cold here today and the office air conditioning was still on) the procedure went like clockwork. After it was over, the nurse came to pry my frozen butt from the chair and led me into the recovery room where The Husband was just coming  down off of the juice. Call me a miserable wife, but I always get a kick out of this time alone with him. He is absolutely goofy and loopy and he says the craziest things that he never remembers sober. Today was no exception. And so I thought I'd share a few of today's gems with the masses. (In light of the continual mess swirling around Toronto City Hall, I would like to offer the following qualification. This is what hard drugs do to a very intelligent and soft-spoken man. Imagine what they could do to our loveable Mayor MacCheese. So kids, a warning....don't do crack!)

• As I first walked into recovery, The Husband, all droopy-eyed and puffy in the cheeks, said in a very loud and slurring voice "Take off your shirt, I want to play!" That's my guy!
• He was connected to a heart monitor that was fastened to his index finger. Unbeknownst to either me or the nurse, he pulled it off causing an alarm to sound. He told me "Fix the radio. I want to hear Q107."
• Lying on the table and drooling blood, he decided that it was a great time to take out his phone. Of course he couldn't see anything because he wasn't wearing his glasses, but he proceeded to magnify his mail and read the entire e-signature from a friend, complete with address and phone number. Why this was urgent, I will never know.
• After the nurse sat him up, he decided that just sitting there didn't provide him with enough distraction. "I'm bored," he declared. "Get me a toy!" He then grabbed the sphygmomanometer (blood pressure cuff for all of you luddites) and started squeezing it....hard!
• The nurse came in to brief me on the aftercare. He actually thought that she was talking to him and kept answering her with the same non-sequetor after each instruction. "Scotch." It is kind of nice to know that at least he is consistent whether plastered or sober.
• And just to complete the experience, as I helped him on with his jacket he grabbed my breast. It's a guy thing. I suppose I should be happy that it was me who helped him instead of the nurse.

The meds are now wearing off and he has gone from goofy to cranky. It's ok. For a brief moment in time, The Husband could actually have pulled off a stand-up routine.