The other day I  had a general anesthesia for an upper endoscopy.  When I came to, I had this wonderful sense of freedom, where my drama buffer was gone.  I’m not sure what else to call it.  It’s that thing that keeps me from expressing myself freely.  That thing that takes into account how others might react, sort of like assessing maneuvers in a chess game, where you look ahead several possible combinations of moves to try to decide what might be the most favorable move to make at this moment, based on some sort of judgment of how the other will respond to the move.  (I’m the worst chess companion.  I don’t play the game.  There are just too many possibilities for me to feel comfortable, therefore it’s not much fun for me.)  Anyhow, that’s sort of what the act of expressing my feelings is like.  Maybe a better word for that is simply ‘fear’.  Fear of speaking freely.  But at that moment, all of that was gone.  I felt good.  I felt innocent.  I felt like it was okay to be me.  To just be.

The very first thing I thought, when I came to, was thank you God, I’m still alive.  I made it through the general.  They say there’s always a risk that you won’t return, you know.  I wonder how often that happens, that someone falls into a coma and can’t be brought back.  I think I’ve had it about seven times so far in my life.  I hope I’m not pressing my luck.

My thoughts were spinning quickly.  I felt like I could suddenly understand why people do drugs, if that is the effect they get.  It was nice not to feel the weight of the world.  It was nice to just feel positive, upbeat, fearless, and unrestrained.  It was momentary freedom.  I realized that, with no suppression in place, I am still a nice person.  I was happy to observe that.  Amidst the whirring thoughts, there was one that popped out rather markedly.  “Rock isn’t good for you.”  I recalled the literature advising not to drive, operate heavy machinery, or make critical decisions after anesthesia, and decided to file this little tidbit away for further consideration, when I have some time to process more thoroughly.  Still, part of me wonders, if in my most honest state (unrestrained in my mind), that is the second most thought that surfaced, thankfulness to God for my life being the first, it must be important.  Critical, even.

I wish that I could have taken some time to just drift through the diminishing effects of the sedation, and float gently along, but I had to use mind over matter and force myself to power past it all, and collect my head and get myself going.  It was very frustrating, annoying, and uncomfortable.  One thing after another stacked up, forcing me to focus on the immediate.  In the end, I was an irritable, exhausted mess.  I wanted to cry.  I wanted to scream.  I wanted to process all the thoughts and feelings of the day.  Important thoughts and feelings.  So much to work through, and not a moment available.

Back to jail.

My brain again on lock-down.

All tied up.

Hostage.

I want to be free.  I want to find myself again, and release her.  I don’t want to be stuck inside my own head forever.