ok, so i'm back on my feet, lalala...well, that's not really true. right now i'm sitting on my ass writing this. my office smells like some kind of perfume/aftershave bizarreness and i'm wondering what the hell happened in here last night after i left. better not to ask, better not to know i'm sure. and it's raining out. and it's friday. and i got up way too early. and c was confused at the role reversal. and there's another debate on tonight. and what can i say really?
so the funny thing about the fentanyl the speed in which it knocks you to z-land. i mean i don't even remember counting backwards before the surgery. but i remember everything about waking up, including the fact that i JUST COULDN'T SEEM TO SHUT THE FUCK UP no matter what i was saying, how annoyed the hospital staff was getting, and how many other post-op patients were getting up thanks to my encouraging them to wake up, join the party. dr b says "ah you're a funny drunk." mmm. something along those lines. but anyway you know that reality show on a&e, i think, called american casino? turns out some guy on that show died of a fentanyl od, apparently taking it for recreational reasons and when i learned that i was like, what, did you think you might have random surgery that night? and i know that's not nice, bad me, bad me...but seriously...i almost said "well, i guess he's stronger than me because that stuff completely knocked me out for surgery, i can't imagine taking it for FUN..." and then i remembered...oh yeah...i guess it knocked him out too.