Saturday, August 26, 2006


~A L L • A B O U T • A M B I E N:~

Conversations with Doug under the influence of Ambien.

A: Can I give you a kiss?

{Doug bends to kiss me}

A: Now you're pink and red and close.

D: Whose the President of the United States?

A: G. W. Bush

D: Whose the Vice President?

A: Dick Cheney

D: Good. Very good.

A: Now you're an "eye face", you have one nose, four eyes and two mouths.

{Pressing this control panel of buttons on my bed that adjust angles, call nurses, control lighting and sound in the room - all at the end of my fingertips.} I wonder if I'm hurting anyone when I press these buttons? This looks like an alien abduction mothership control panel. This button above the figure like beams him up. This one below him is like the one for the anal probes.

{Doug smiles as he records my observations.}

A: Your hair looks like a heavy duty stapler - the top part. You should be punishing me like a principal. With a switch or a birch or a paddle.

{Doug raises an eyebrow.}

A: Now you're black and pale peach,

Doug: Now whose the prez?

A: George Wuuuu... George Bush

D: You're spacey.

A: I'm not spacey. You're LOOKING very spacey.

A: You know, my uterus is pretty mad.
{By the time I begin to express anger and sarcasm, Doug keeps an eye on the monitor they're using to measure Bimp's heartbeat any my contractions - which are effected by the intensity of whatever emotions I'm feeling. A nurse the other day told me that the uterus is the most finicky and sensitive muscle in a woman's body. It reacted instantly to whatever I said. Amazing. Now we know why relaxation is so important - why patient care really makes a difference. }

Uterus: What's so bad about contractions? All you fuckers are taking my job away from me! I'm supposed to have 9 months to practice and build muscle strength.

A: Wull, yeah. It'd be nice, huh? You're not the only one whose natural born job and bodily functions have been monitored and then taken away. Talk to the placenta.

Talking to the placenta: You, my friend, have fucked up. Thanks for ruining this whole experience for me.

Uterus: I gotta fight this bitch who owns this body. She's going to fight against what I'm trying to do. Maybe I'll get lucky and be able to get everyone down and out like I'm supposed to. I MIGHT could do my job if it weren't for those two motherfuckers - the placenta and um, YOU, Anne.

Uterus talking to the doctors: Oh, you gonna cut me? Look here you ass wipe. Make sure you take your time stitching her up. You think twice before you cut me and fuck it up and do a c-section.

{Using Tony Soprano's toughest voice after an unpleasant conversation with nurse Marva, who tricked me by waiting for me to swallow the 2 Ambien before telling me she wanted to give me a shot of fucking morphine, to stop my contractions, the majority of which were caused by her own nervousness and patronizing bedside manner}.

Placenta: Now you wanna give me morphine to emasculate me?

FUCK you PEOPLE.

This is when we fired Nurse Marva.

5 comments:

Tania Rochelle said...

Forget the Celexa. I want some Ambien.

Doug Elser said...

these nightly conversatins with anne and ambien are going to be great fodder for bimp one day.

maybe anne could publish a book, much like "conversations wit god," called "coversations with ambien." i know it would certainly be a more entertaining read.

minus five said...

ambien is some pretty sweet stuff.

MCALDWELLC said...

That shit is crazy...my ex used to take it and would entertain herself (and me) by staying up instead of falling asleep on it. One night she spent 30 minutes explaining to me that there were cobwebs ALL OVER MY APARTMENT and there was a little dwarf in the corner that kept giving her the evil eye. aaaaaah, good times!

Keep posting while you are under the influence....it's VERY entertaining.

Jason said...

man, I don't read blogs for a couple days and this is what happens? Good luck with everything, Anne. You are in good hands. It can and will be scary at times, but they've got their eyes on you. Bimp will come when he's ready. He's an anxious little guy.