Apparently I got a bit frantic when the surgical team came into pre-op to take me in. (This I do recall.) I wanted to know when I got the meds to start calming me down. The anesthesiologist -- with the most manicured eye-brows I have ever seen on a man (aside from the character "Sandy Cohen" in the O.C.)-- tells me he is injecting sedatives into my I.V. right then. The good news, according to eye brow doc was they were not intending to sedate me too much, as they needed me lucid in the O.R. to ask me questions. The frantic part came into play when he told me I did not have enough time to boot up my blog and share the ride with you all.
Well, I showed Doc Eyebrow! I may not have had time to blog before the drugs hit. BUT, neither did they get their interrogation. HaHa! Reportedly, I announced that I was so feeling the sedative, slipped down into the bed and began to giggle. (Med doctor's have a tendency to overestimate what a 100lb woman's tolerance level is for the "good stuff.")
Hubbie reports that the last he saw of me I was "cracking myself up" en route to the O.R. Who says breast cancer is not funny!
The last thing I recall is observing all these mint-green clad creatures, looking like they were from Area 51, scurrying about busily. A 51-er extended both of my arms into a spread-eagle position and strapped me down (and we are talking leather). The very last thought I had before slipping into wondrous oblivion, so this is what crucifixion feels like? (Weird thought for a nice Jewish girl, eh?)