Per doctor's instructions, I had taken two pills to relax at 6 AM and our expected arrival at the office was 7:30 AM, so we left around 7. I managed to give directions to the office, but after we parked and the receptionist came to the car to get my information I started to not be all there and the last thing I remember before surgery was sitting on the chair--I had gum surgery.
After surgery, I remember that I was told to sit on a wheel chair and I looked at it and thought that I had never sat in a wheel chair. Then I was out again. I got in the car and remember that my neighbor was driving around very concerned and said "I need to find you a milkshake." I remember the chocolate milkshake, which I ate with a black plastic spoon to take a hydrocodone pill. After we arrived home, I just got in bed. My neighbor was about to trash the milk shake and I said "May I please finish milkshake?" and she gave it back, so I hurried eating it.
One hour later, I am awoken by my panicked neighbor saying "Rita, your garage door is open. You need to take your antibiotics and ice your face." I got up, took the antibiotic, and got an ice pack. My neighbor left, I closed the garage door and went back to sleep. I just went from task to task like a robot, but I know I am a selfish sleeper: if I am sleepy, I don't care about anything other than sleeping. I woke up later that day and I prepared dinner, ate, took the dog out, and even wrote.
When I came to the U.S. people used to ask me in what language my dreams were. I never dream in a language, it is always visual. But my default language has been English since I started to become proficient. It was only after 2008, when I realized that I was losing Portuguese vocabulary that I started to force myself to think in Portuguese and, lately, I catch myself thinking in my mother tongue more often. Still, I find it amusing that during all this drug induced loss of consciousness, I always functioned in English. There was not even a slight hesitation.
The party was fun. I have never lived in a place in which I knew so many of the neighbors. My face still looks really terrible, with lots of yellow marks from bruising and still some swelling, plus I got some blisters on my lips probably from something I ate, which I am imagining was the baked potato soup, but I went without make up nonetheless. It is what it is.
As I was leaving the party, I checked my phone and there was a message from my next door neighbor who is in New Jersey taking care of Covid-19 patients. She said she met an amazing man that she wants me to meet. It's the second guy that she wants me to date. How does she find time amid a pandemic to act all Cupid on me? And what it is about me that all my girlfriends want to find me a guy to date? I do fine on my own. If anything, I attract too many guys as is. Unless she found me a filthy rich drop-dead gorgeous guy, who speaks perfect English, likes art, travel, fancy restaurants, and is ravishing in bed, then I may be interested in giving him a test drive in a few months...
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