Last month, when I had surgery, something really strange happened.

For those of you who have never had general anesthesia, in the moments before you meet the Sandman, you are strapped to a table/gurney/bed by your arms and legs.  It’s an odd feeling, as in my head I imagine I look like I’m being executed via lethal injection.  Though, at the time, I don’t mind very much — as I’ve been given pre-op drugs that cause me to be care-free.

Yet, as I was being strapped down, Prince was blaring throughout the OR — I guess the surgeon or nurses really liked their music.  I didn’t mind too much.  I like Prince as much as the next guy.  The thing is, it was the end of the song and the next song that began playing … well, I thought it would creep me out.  It was “Hotel California” by the Eagles.

All I kept praying was, “Dear God, just please don’t let me hear the lyric ‘You can check out anytime you like, but you can never leave,’ and I will be alright.”

I never heard that part.  God is good.