Last week I had to have a ganglion cyst removed from the ball of my foot. It was hindering my walking experience and I’d just bought a new pair of sandals that I couldn’t walk in without pain. I found a great podiatrist and signed up to have it done. The only problem came when I got to the hospital and found out they weren’t putting me out all the way – just sort of out. Which is good because recovery is lots faster. But then he said something that made me nervous. He said the first stuff they would give me is like a truth serum. It works great for relaxing and calming you, he said, but it is also what they use to get people to tell the truth. He went on to say that if I had any secrets, I might just start blabbing them. He was smiling when he said that, but he was thinking about how many things he’d heard that he wished he didn’t know. YIKES!! I glanced at my husband, and he just smiled, but he was thinking that this sure put me in a bad spot. What if I started blabbing about Uncle Joey? Or worse, told people I could read their minds? I wanted to tell him to tape my mouth shut or something, but seriously, how would that look? Then I thought about the time I’d spent with Ramos in Orlando. Though nothing serious had happened between us, I was still glad Chris was not coming into surgery with me. He might get it into his mind to ask me some questions that I’d rather not answer. As the anesthesiologist walked me down to surgery, I realized that I wasn’t even worried about how the doctor was going to cut my foot open, or the pain it would cause. Nope, now I had to worry about keeping my mouth shut. Right before the anesthesiologist gave me the truth serum, I clamped my lips tight. As the stuff surged through my veins, a sense of euphoria and peace saturated my body, making me feel languid and calm. I hadn’t felt that relaxed in a long time, and it felt really good. Just then, the nurse asked me what I did besides coming to the hospital for surgery. Without hesitation, I told her all about my consulting agency. I don’t remember anything else after that. The doctor came to recovery after it was all done with a big grin on his face. He said I did great, but he was thinking I was a hoot, and he’d never laughed so hard in surgery before. That was it, and soon I was home, putting ice on my foot and taking it easy. I still don’t know what I said to make him laugh so hard, but it couldn’t be too bad, right? I mean, even if it was the truth, he’d never believe it. At least I sure hope not.