When my brother was little, he had his tonsils out. I remember how pathetic he looked when they unloaded him from the car. He remembers how cool his technicolor popsicle puke looked on one of the hospital people. He had good drugs.

I had my wisdom teeth out under local when I was 17. I still hate my dentist. I didn't get good drugs.

American Idol commercial this week has them as muppets!

I got nitrous for my wisdom teeth, and it seemed like I was all the way out -- at least, I don't remember any of it once I stopped wanting to say really inappropriate things to the dentist.

Oh! And then there is my dad. He's had some, um, interesting surgeries. (Including bone breakings he WANTED to stay awake for, and provided running commentary to everyone's amusement.) Apparently, he likes telling really really bawdy jokes going in & out of under. And sometimes doesn't stay under. But remains a smart ass. "I'm waking up. Can't feel anything and you guys look goofy, but waking up." His last surgeon (general anasthwha) told my mom that his was the funniest surgery he'd ever attended.

Given the nature of the surgery, my mom was torn between annoyance and hysterical laughter.

I remember being on painkillers after surgery - When I had my eyes open I was talking to a friend who was there to see me, and when I closed my eyes I immediatly went into a lucid dream where I was talking to someone else. I opened my eyes and continued talking to my friend, then closed my eyes again and went back to dreaming... this went on for about five minutes - very weird

Nitrous I last had with the teeth. All it did was make colors change on select in the room and made me very very nervous.

Oh, that sucks, sara.

My sort of funny nose-breaking story: When my roommate in college broke her nose playing rugby, she had to go in for the re-break, too. The doctor offered to "thin it out a little," on the house, while she was there. She said no. It just kind of makes me laugh that he figured anyone would want a nose job if they didn't have to pay for it.

When dad skidded on half his face (well, really bad road rash- down to bone) the plastic surgeon offered to do an eye lift on the other side as well, since it was gonna happen no matter what on the damaged side. Dad declined. Said he wanted a before and after face.

Probably wise, given that the fix didn't heal right and required several more surgeries to get his eyelid right.

But you can tell, though I barely notice now as it has been 15 years.

I remember being on painkillers after surgery - When I had my eyes open I was talking to a friend who was there to see me, and when I closed my eyes I immediatly went into a lucid dream where I was talking to someone else. I opened my eyes and continued talking to my friend, then closed my eyes again and went back to dreaming... this went on for about five minutes - very weird

Heh. Anyone here who received one of my morphine-addled phone calls could probably tell you better than I can how weird morphine makes people. But it's still cool as hell. Best. Drug. EVAH.

Oh good. Dad's gorey tales (though I edited HEAVILY) didn't cause fleeing. While I'm squeamish about reality and me (I need to revisit the dentist. I'm afraid to despite the last one being really low key and good and gave me a headset on LOUD for a filling ), the stories don't bug me, though they often veer into TMI. And make me laugh at how gross my family can be.