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.