Sunday, May 14, 2006
I had some mighty odd dreams while I was in hospital. That first night (the night with the MOST morphine in my system) I swore I woke up with a bad case of multiple personality disorder. I was seriously worried that I had spoken to a nurse or someone while I had these other two voices in my head. In fact, I think my brain was altered in some way whilst there, permanently. Everytime I think of my operation, I think of surgeons pitching a tent under my skin and zooming their remote controlled cars into my stomach to remove my gall bladder. It's more interesting, I'm sure, to what actually happened - and the memory makes me happy.