Writer’s Block . . . It’s the Anesthesia
Writer’s block is not something I usually struggle with. For the most part, my mind is a storehouse of ideas. Plots and characters, beginnings and endings, swirl around in my head like a tornado ripping through a Kentucky village. I’ve never been at a loss for words . . .until now.
I’m sitting here at my keyboard and honestly can’t think of anything to write about. You know what, I’m going to blame it on the anesthesia. The surgeon said it would remain in my system for up to three or four weeks while my body worked to metabolize it and in that time I could still suffer the effects of it.
I have noticed some effects: my attention span is short, my legs are constantly bouncing up and down from restlessness, I have difficulty focusing, I’m forgetful, and when the Tylenol wears off (I’m off the percoset now) I have body aches and irritability (the surgeon said these are all due to the residual anesthesia in my system).
Hey, it does come in handy. Forget to tell Jen something important? Anesthesia. Don’t pay attention when Jen tells me something? Anesthesia. Stick foot in mouth? Ahem. Sorry. Anesthesia.
In the 1980’s there was a popular duo who “sang” a song called Blame it on the Rain. Well, I’m singing a new song, baby: Blame it on the Anesthesia.
I feel like I’ve been given a gift here, a free pass. I’m a victim. That’s the mantra of our society, isn’t it? Everyone’s a victim? No responsibility? Now I can jump on the bandwagon. The only problem is that I can only sing this song for another week or so . . . so I need to get all the mileage I can out of it. Shhh.