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Signs of Life

Nancy L. Horner

To Tell the Truth

Our eldest son, Daniel, was home from the University of Mississippi for Thanksgiving break. Unfortunately for him, nearly the entire week’s agenda revolved around the extraction of his wisdom teeth, which were both severely impacted and required surgical removal. We sent him off to get his teeth cleaned and x-rayed on Monday, followed by a consultation with the oral surgeon on Tuesday. On Wednesday morning, a very nervous Daniel headed to the surgeon’s office with his father.

About two hours after they set out, the phone rang at home.

“Well,” said my husband, “I know one thing for sure about Daniel. He’ll never be a spy.”

In the background, I could hear my mildly-anesthetized son singing tunelessly.

“A spy?” I had no idea what he meant.

“Just ask him anything. This may be the only time you’ll ever be guaranteed a completely honest answer.”

I could tell my husband was smiling.

“Gee, I can think of a couple things off the top of my head,” I told him.

“Well, we’re almost home. Open the door for us; he’s pretty dopey.”

Minutes later, my drowsy teenager arrived with gauze-stuffed cheeks. His father held one arm to keep him from stumbling into the wall.

The moment Daniel walked in the door, he wrapped me up in a huge bear-hug and said, “I love you, Mom!”

The words came out “I yuv oo Mome.” There was no disputing the fact that he’d been thoroughly numbed.

“Well, thank you, dear. I love you, too.” I tried not to laugh at him as I realized that if my son ever drank to excess, at least he’d be a friendly drunk rather than a violent one. It was a nice thought, if a bit strange.

After we’d safely steered Daniel to his bed to sleep off the remaining anesthetic, David filled me in on what I’d missed at the doctor’s office.

“Well, I found out what’s important to Daniel,” he said. “When he woke up, he reached for his ankle. I thought that was strange, so I looked to see what he was reaching for and he had his watch around his ankle for some reason. So, I took it off and put it in my pocket. When we got to the car, he reached for his ankle and I told him not to worry, I had his watch. A few minutes later, he reached for his ankle, again. I think he did that at least five times. He must really like that watch.”

“But why was it around his ankle?”

“No idea,” David said. “But, I haven’t told you the best part.”

I nodded for him to continue.

“When we walked out of the room, Daniel said, ‘I’ve felt worse than this at a frat party.’” David imitated Daniel with the sound of a numb face packed with gauze. “The nurse told him he’d better shut his mouth before he dug himself in any further.”

“So Daniel should try real hard to avoid anesthesia if he has any secrets,” I said.

“I’ll say. He babbled all the way home. I probably would have learned all sorts of great information if I could have understood what he was saying.”

The next day, a chipmunk-cheeked but coherent Daniel moaned at the table while we ate Thanksgiving dinner. His meal consisted mostly of mashed potatoes and other similarly mushy food.

Daniel longingly ogled juicy-looking slices of ham. “Why did you have to cook ham instead of a dry, old turkey the year I can’t chew meat?” he asked. He played with his potatoes to show that he was displeased.

I asked Daniel if he remembered what he told the nurse or the big hug he’d given me as he walked in the door.

His looked up. “I remember . . . singing,” he said. “And, I couldn’t find my watch.”

“Just out of curiosity,” I asked Daniel as he stopped twiddling with his potatoes, “Why did you have your watch strapped to your ankle, yesterday?”

“Thought it’d get in the way of the IV,” he said.

Well, that was one mystery solved. We told him that in the future he should leave his watch at home if he knew he’d be put to sleep.

“Yeah, okay.”

“Dad says you’d make a terrible spy,” I told him. His eyes widened as I filled him in; and sheer horror crossed his face when I mentioned the fact that his antics would make excellent column material.

“I know what you should say in your column,” his little brother William chimed in. “The wisdom went with the wisdom teeth.”

He had a good point. There’s certainly one thing we all found out from Daniel’s experience. If you know you’re going to have no choice but to be injected with mind-altering drugs for a medical procedure, better do your best to keep your mouth shut. You just never know what you might end up saying.