About a week ago, I got dental surgery. And it was probably among the best days of my life so far I am not even kidding. I have actually had a series of fun-time whiz-bang surgeries and they have all been swell.
Because what they do, my dental surgeon and his merry band of mouth manglers, is feed you a Valium. Then, they feed you a drug the name of which I forget but which makes everything get pretty hazy and then the world kind of disappears though apparently you are still ambulatory and say many amusing things. Then, they sit you in the dental chair, strap a faceful of nitrous oxide on you and you lose all consciousness all together while they draw dicks on your face with washable markers and eventually get around to surgerizing.
It may be a little bit overkill, there, with the drugs and the business. But I love them for it. I love every pill they give me and how they crush up tablets and pour them under my tongue and how they make sure the mask is nice and tight on my face and how I remember little to nothing past the moment I sit on the couch in their cozy waterfall-surrounded waiting room and swallow that Valium. Usually I manage to stop texting before the drugs kick in.
And I’m gone. Someone I love, who loves me back, will then come to pick me up from the dentist’s office. I only know that because I usually wake up at home in my own bed instead of under the receptionist’s desk. There will be a bottle of antibiotics, and a bottle of pain pills, and a bottle of water and a stern note to take both of them or I will be beaten with sticks.
But usually I am not in pain. Usually I am so happy and that is because finally, finally, I have just slept a solid 16 hours, which is more sleep than I’ve gotten in the full two weeks prior. And I did not dream and I did not wake up and roll over and slip into that twilight where you can feel time passing achingly slowly and you think about how you are trapped in a nightmarish hell where your limbs are weighed down by nightmare demons and this is how you will spend eternity and then that’s what you start dreaming about until you wake up and roll over yet again.
It used to be that I was the most solid sleeper you have ever met. I could fall asleep anywhere. I could stay asleep forever. Sleeping was my magical superpower. Nothing woke me up because I was unwakable, which is going to be the name of my next movie. It’s about a superhero who takes a lot of naps. She is, I have been told, a very annoying superhero. And now I understand why.
I remember exactly when I stopped sleeping, and knowing that isn’t helpful. I know why I’m not sleeping, and that’s not helpful either because I can’t unpublish my book. I hate how crazy not sleeping makes me. And that’s really super extra unhelpful, because it just makes me a little bit crazier.
More dental surgery! Developing a cuddle buddy system because I can sleep when there is someone in bed with me. Volunteers have so far been so patient with a tiny tired little ball curled up against their backs (but really soon I will run out of volunteers.). More running (but really how much farther can I run?). Less caffeine? A hammer, maybe.