The last time I had to schedule a fasting cholesterol test, I had to do it at the end of the day, since I certainly couldn’t go to work under a snootful of Xanax. So, I ate an early breakfast, went to work, skipped lunch, and started to take the Xanax, one tab at a time, while walking to the medical lab across the street. Since I obviously wouldn’t be driving myself home, my husband met me as I weaved into the lab, where I had my blood test without incident and weaved back out. But, since I’d been fasting all day, I was absolutely ravenous, so I insisted on stopping at the hospital cafeteria before going home.

My husband claims he lifted my head out of my tray several times, all the time being absolutely freaked out over the possibility of my choking. (Funny thing was, I could swallow just fine. I just couldn’t keep my head up.) I have to be similarly sedated for a very minor procedure later this week, and they just moved it up from 2 PM to an hour much closer to lunchtime. Hoo boy. I’d better eat first, I think ….

Still and all, I’ll repeat the process whenever my doctor deems it necessary. My mom died of colorectal cancer, and anything’s better than that.

My only anesthesia stories involve the removal of my wisdom teeth. It seems they were impacted. They gave me some nitrous oxide to keep me calm while they inserted the IV for the general anesthetic. I distinctly recall that they had trouble finding a vein. They were really digging around in my arm. I remember thinking,”Wow, this really hurts. Maybe I should say something? Naaaahhh.” When I woke up post-surgery, drooling and bleeding on the operating chair, the first thing the oral surgeon said to me was,”Your wisdom teeth had four roots!” His tone was very accusatory. Apparently, molars are only supposed to have two roots, and I had apparently produced molars with more than the usual number of roots just to make this guy sweat. He just had to share how little he appreciated it with me.