I am a redhead

The other day, my little chickadee sent me a link to a most intriguing news article.

As I read it, I started to understand why I have had so much difficulty with anaesthesia over the years.

This could explain why I woke up during my hip replacement surgery.

I've also wakened during previous episodes of anaesthesia but the doctors and attending nurses insisted that I had not.  (I knew that I had!)

Obviously, it was only because I was talking about it coming out of the hip surgery that the anaesthesiologist was called in to discuss the matter with me -- so she had to admit to me that I had in fact wakened.  They're not used to patients remembering such incidents.

But remember I did.

And remember I do.

One does not forget traumatic encounters in one's life.

So now I can apparently blame the colour of my hair for this phenomenon.

And I can alert the anaesthesiologist for future surgeries that I WILL need more of that juice than a brunette or a blonde might need.

Doesn't matter that my hair is now grey.

It used to be red!

See?  Just 'cuz I'm old and grey now doesn't change the fact that I AM A REDHEAD.