Not all there

I had a medical procedure on Tuesday. It was a big deal for me, since I just hate it when I have to be bothered with the inconvenience of hospitals, tests and doctor visits. The nurse put an IV in my hand and wheeled me into the procedure room. It was like diving into a blue-green pond: cold, dark, and very subdued. I got positioned on the table and the doctor chatted with me for a couple minutes while he tried to push the medication into my IV without my knowing it--as if I would get that warm, heavy feeling for no reason at all!
Anyhow, it felt just absolutely marvelous--warm, heavy, soft. I commented on how wonderful it was. The nurses and doctor smiled knowingly. Wanting to add a superlative, I began to say more but midway through the sentence my brain gave out and my subconscious took over. "Wow! That's better than eggnog!" The last thing I heard was the nurse cracking up and saying off in the distance, "I've never heard that before!" I woke up in the recovery room. Funny thing though, I don't like eggnog.
That wasn't the first time my mouth engaged without my brain. I once worked a double shift and came home to drop into a deep sleep. My friend, Sarah, planned to call me at 1:00 p.m. to see when we could leave for a shopping trip. That would give me five hours to sleep before our outing. When she called, I was aware that the phone had rung and woke up enough to answer it. She wondered if she had wakened me and I protested that in fact, I had been awake all along. I don't know why, but I've always done that when I'm awakened out of a deep sleep. As Sarah began telling me which mall she should like to visit, the "lights" went out. She must have asked me something then, like, what time would I be ready for her to pick me up. I don't remember what she said, only that there was a silence and I felt compelled to respond to an unknown question. I have a vague recollection of saying, "I don't think I can go; I have to get all my teeth pulled this afternoon."
There was a stunned silence. In a voice full of concern and consideration for my altered state, Sarah reassured me that we could go shopping another time and that perhaps I should just rest for awhile.
I don't remember hanging up the phone but five minutes later I woke up with a start as I realized what I'd said to her. I have no idea where this thing about teeth came from, but there it was.
I wonder if this kind of mental disconnect is what people feel like when they have brain surgery or strokes. I recall taking care of a man, fresh out of brain surgery, who responded to all my inquires with, "Whining, twining...whining, twining." This was all he said for two days. It was as if he had some broken links somewhere--which, I suppose he had. At first he had no idea his words were inappropriate, but by the second day he was in despair. The third day dawned and he could say his name, "Yes" and "No."
Our mental wiring never ceases to amaze me--even though there are days when mine is loose.