Not that long ago, my husband had a colonoscopy done at the institution where I work. It was a no-brainer decision for him to have it done there – I know and work with the members of both the gastroenterology and anesthesiology departments, so my husband and I had a certain comfort level with who his care providers would be. All went smoothly, as expected and hoped for, and when he was finished, I went to his bedside.
“Hi babe! How ya feelin’?”
“I feel high. And good!”
“How’d everything go?”
Under his breath and out of the side of his mouth, he muttered, “I’ll tell you later.”
Well, that certainly grabbed my attention! When your husband tells you something like that, the words echo in the auditory canals for more than several minutes, and when they finally land in your frontal lobe, they don’t leave. It was all I could think about!
He recovered quickly from his anesthetic (straight Propofol), was spoken to by his doctor and given his discharge instructions by the nurses. As we were walking to the parking lot, my curiosity was clearly burning a hole into my skull, and I had to know what he wanted to tell me that needed to be deferred to LATER.
“So,” I asked him, half of me not wanting to hear something bad, “what did you want to tell me later?”
“Duh, nothing,” he said matter-of-factly, as if . . . what in the world was I talking about?
“You told me you wanted to tell me something later,” I reminded him, now anxious to hear this juicy tidbit of information.
This is the power of Propofol, and why it is sometimes affectionately called “milk of amnesia” in my business. We still laugh about this, and to this day, he has no idea what he wanted to tell me later. Maybe it’s better that way?