Last Tuesday, I was hopped up on oral sedation and then given two pushes of IV sedation. This is where my consciousness decided; “I’m getting off, see ya later!” Of course, having no inhibitions, no short term memory and no high brain function doesn’t seem to stop me from talking: “I’m still awake!” I would gleefully/fearfully announce to everyone once in a while. Linda was trying to hold me in one place and reported the conversations. I looked over to the anesthesiologist who was putting blood pressure cuff and oxygen meter on me and said, “Did you know?” I was starting to slur a bit, “that my brother sexually abused me when I was a prepubescent?” (I can’t remember anything of this and had a sort of “OMG!” face when Linda finally told me the next day)
Linda wasn’t sure if the anesthesiologist heard me clearly so she did a “filler” and asked her, “I bet you hear a lot of things when people are going under?”
“Oh yeah.” The anesthesiologist told her (the anesthesiologist was a very calming woman who oozed the word “maternal”), “I had a 15 year boy propose to me once.”
“Oh.” Linda kept hold on me.
“Did I come out with any other family secrets?” I asked Linda horrified when she told me the next day.
“Well.....” I glared at her till she told me they called her because I had woken up and was frantically trying to tell them something only I was so tired and slurring no one could understand me.
I had that facial expression you get when you are about to be dropped in the tank of cold water. “And what did I say?”
“Uh…it was very hard to understand you. You kept talking about your liver and bezasomething.”
I winced, “benzodiazepine”
“That’s it,” she continued “And then you told them you were a Ph.D.”
“And there was something about your liver and the benzothings and your IQ.”
“Oh God, tell me I didn’t actually use the word I.Q.?”
“Uh.....” Linda did a comforting smile, “I think you were just trying to explain something.”
I was hiding my face in my hands; “So, let me see, I was wacked out of my head and talking about liver processing, benzodiazepines, that I am a Ph.D. and have a high IQ, is that right?”
Linda thought, “No, it was something about the IQ and the liver tied together, and I think you told them about research you had done and how this related to needle phobia and that’s why you told them you had a Ph.D.”
I groaned through my fingers. “And how long did I talk for?”
Linda hesitated (that’s means it’s not good news), “You really were passionate about it, so about.......15 minutes.”
“Ahhhhhhhhh!” I fell over and buried my head in a pillow. See, this is the problem with taking the equivalent of a super-powerful “truth” drug.
I had been doing research on the use of Halcion Triazolam for people with dental and needle phobias as an oral sedative. The problem is that Triazolam is one of the fastest converted benzodiazepines and if the person takes another regularly, like Valium, for example, then depending on the condition of the liver the sedation could run out before the operation finishes. This is in fact what happened to me, and I began to wake up during the operation. My sub theory is that the higher the focus of brain function (say, IQ for example; or Type-A personalities for another example) for an individual person the harder it would be to get the person under full sedation. Why; because as long as they focus on the terror of the idea they will continue to produce norepinephrine and epinephrine which would counter sedation. It was a THEORY; an IDEA I thought about for an hour (and then babbled the next day for 15 minutes to everyone within earshot apparently).
So at the end of the day there is sort of good news and bad news. The bad news is that I made an ASS of myself babbling about something that I thought about the day before. Thank goodness it wasn’t the theory that baloney is processed in round shapes because those are ones which are emotionally comforting, ego manufactured “comfort food” (yes, I know baloney used to be sausage!). Actually, I think I would have been better off babbling about baloney for 15 minutes instead of my IQ.
The GOOD news is that I have taken more than the equivalent of a lie detector. Or rather, I was given what was a type of inhibition remover, a “truth serum” and I told the truth. What disturbs me a bit is that I can be wacked out of my mind and not only tell someone about my brother but use the word “prepubescent.” What’s wrong with using “young,” that’s a good word? You know “When I was young.” However that worked out; I have no memory but Linda witnessed it. Now, if my brother wants to say I’m lying, I invite him to take the same drug cocktail and see what he has to say about it?
I KNEW the truth, but after a generation of “experts” publicly destroying victims of abuse, and after keeping it a secret for so long; having this, the closest we will get years later to “proof” makes me feel calm. Oh, and if my sibling is still spinning his story (I am a ‘sick’ person who makes ‘disgusting’ jokes), all I can say is that with my health there might be a LOT more operations and many more needs for sedation. It appears that once the inhibitions have been removed, my psyche doesn’t give a FUCK who knows. And I don’t really either.
Sorry readers, I never promised a ride through meadows and sunshine, I just promised a real ride.
1 day ago