I drink… a lot. Well, I used to.  I miss it.  Not gonna lie.  But in all my years of drinking – and trustme, I have been drinking for years, I have been fortune enough to have never everblack out.  Not an experience I thinkever want.  And now I know why.

On Tuesday, April 28 2009 at 10AM I scooted mymostly blind arse onto a gurney and headed to a prep area for my surgery.  My mom came with me.  I was in the prep room for what seemed likeforever.  I finally met theanesthesiologist who told us the surgery would be 3-4 hours.  While I was waiting to get knocked out, I gota healthy does of morphine. 

Now, I am not sure if you have ever had morphine, butit is… powerful.  When given through anIV it shoots through your body and you feel it immediately – at least Idid.  But I was always lucid and aware nad nmostly "with it"while on all my pain meds.  I will blame years of drug use for this one - just kidding... sorta.

When it came time to take me to the OR I receivedanother shot of something… I remember getting the shot.  I remember seeing my mom – well, as much as Icould see her and that is about it.  Iremember nothing after that.  And thisdisturbs me – to this day it disturbs me. 

Being knocked out is not like sleep.  Not at all like sleep.  It is like… nothing.  Like a void. Like… 8 hours of my life that are just lost and gone forever, I cannotaccount for this time.  There were no bizarre dreams, no tossing and turning, no drunk texts - like when I normally sleep - it was just nothing.  I was told thatin this time I had surgery.  I have scarsto prove it, so it must have happened, but I do not recall any of it.  I have no recollection of this timewhatsoever and I have a problem with that.

At least with sleep you know you are sleeping.  There is a routine to it, there are dreams about Edward Cullen or Shia LaBeouf (and now you know my guilty pleasures), there are drunk text messages from Jess, drunk dials from Sam, some tossing, some turning and an alarm goes off when it is over.  The entire time I was knocked out there was none of this.  Have you ever seen that episode of Seinfeld when Jerry goes to the dentist and he wakes up withhis shirt untucked? 

The next thing I remember is possibly putting up a fight.  I am not sure.  But there may have been a struggle.  While I was blacked out - presumably having surgery - I had a breathing tube down mythroat, so the struggle could have been the removal of this tube.  Again, I’m not sure. Maybe I was pissed because my shirt was untucked - just kidding... sorta.  I do remember being wheeled around. I remember thinking I was being wheeled around my office - with lots of twists and turns.  I remember thinking 3 things: Does my momknow I am okay?  Does my sister Amandaknow that I am okay?  Do my coworkersknow that I am okay? (I did, after all, believe I was being wheeled around myoffice).  I remember slowing coming to –not being able to see – and being really really thirsty.  I kind of wanted a beer.

Needless to say, I was totally freaked out after Irealized the last time was conscious was 8 hours prior and I had norecollection of this time.  I can onlyimagine this is same feeling countless college kids have after a night of bingedrinking.  Or how Jerry Sienfeld felt after the dentist.  I am glad I have never had either of those experiences, nor do I ever want to.  All I know is that if I ever need to be knocked out again, I am going to get drunk first so at least I have an excuse... and I'll keep my shirt untucked.