Ok, when I was dying from the kidney stone, they gave me a narcotic to help deal with the pain. I have only been on this powerful of drugs a couple of times: once when I got my tonsils out, when I got my wisdom teeth out, and when I gave birth. I have discovered that this is not a good thing for me. Well, maybe it is and maybe it isn’t. I am definitely not myself when I’m on drugs. When the drugs start to take effect, I’m everybody’s friend. I love you and you and you and you….
“Honey, who are you talking to?”
“Oh, Babe. These ER people are great aren’t they? We’ve been here for 6 hours and they haven’t offered us a single cracker or anything and they are just the best. I love them.”
“Ummm…. we’re leaving. Are you going too be ok to get to the car if I bring it around? Will you be fully clothed when I get back?”
“Oh, sure. I can’t feel a thing. My lips are fuzzy…”
In the car…
“I love you and you and you and you…”
“Honey, that’s a telephone pole.”
“Don’t you love telephone poles? They are so strong and big…”
“WAIT! Stop at Arby’s. I have a craving. I’m totally allowed to have cravings. I’m pregnant and on drugs. I’ve been through a lot today and I need a milk shake. Isn’t that drive up girl a sweetheart?”
When I got my tonsils out, I was waking up from the anethesia and I thanked every nurse and doctor in sight for what a wonderful job they were doing. After I gave birth, the combo of hormones and drugs made me love the doctor I had only met once, the nurses who were bringing me water and every person in the whole room.
I love you and you and you and…
“Ok, I love yooouuuuuu…..”