I sat in a dentist’s chair for over 5 hours yesterday, though I can only remember bits and pieces totaling 30 seconds, thanks to a powdery substance placed under my tongue which was preceded by my signature on a release form. I don’t remember the name of the medication that brings about amnesia, but that’s okay. I guess it worked then, eh? I don’t remember the fillings, the crown, the bridge or the dental banter which, in the past, has always given me bad dreams. “Okay, Robert. We’re going to use the gouger here to make sure your nerve endings are still able to respond to stimulus”, etc. I go to an excellent dentist now, so I’m sure that this never came up, though, if it did, I sure don’t remember it.
From what I’m told by my lovely wife Emily, this sedation dentistry has its own side effects at home after the procedure is done and, well, forgotten. For example, she reports that I looked at our third child, Zachary, and asked aloud “now, which one is this?”. I guess I also declared –repeatedly– that I was way more aware and “with it” this time than last, so I should probably do things like drive a car, clean out the gutters, call distant relatives and go down to the post office and help them sort mail. I was like a 300 lb infant playing around the stairs. What would they have really done had I decided to put my weight into it and go get some Ice Cream? This is why I believe that some families should be given some sort of dart gun that they use when the zoo has a breach, just in case. Fortunately, Emily is a conscientious, wonderful and loving woman who I can trust with everything, including a forgotten Friday.
Now… if only I could remember where I put my keys.