A weird thing happened yesterday at the hospital. After a routine procedure, I was wheeled back to recovery - where Carole awaited me. But apparently, my mental state arrived at different times. Let me explain:
After we were already home yesterday, it dawned on me that I was fuzzy as to when I regained consciousness. I asked the wife about it and soon it was apparent things weren't adding up. The first thing I vaguely remember is getting rid of the lovable hospital gown (made for someone 5'4", not 6'4", btw) and getting dressed. Carole started ticking off a list of activities which preceded that and pretty soon I felt extremely foolish.
She said that we had discussed the fact that I had been rolled in to slot #22 in the recovery area...something that is funny to us since the number 22 follows us around unmercifully. Then she pointed that I had called our son, Blake, to update him on my condition...note that I made the call, not she. And to top it off, Carole said that together we had worked on the NYTimes crossword and almost finished it. This all caught me by surprise. I asked her if I had said anything embarrassing and she said, "No more than normally."
So I'm wondering if any of you out there in the blogosphere have heard of this and/or experienced it yourself. I know one thing: next time, I'm gonna have the anesthesiologist tape my mouth shut when I leave the OR, just to be on the safe side.