While undergoing surgery in 1995 I was so convinced that I had driven 600 miles for a MRI that I couldn't wait to tell all my visitors about it in the morning. One of my visitors was my cousins' husband, who worked in the hospital as a psychiatrist and who didn't believe for a second that I had made the trip but didn't initially call me on it.
He knew that I was a long time user of cannabis so when he finally got around to discussing it, he had already chalked it up to "excessive" smoking and wondered if I had indulged heavily before the surgery. I hadn't but I was beginning to have doubts about my 'trip'.
However, I already knew about out-of-body experiences so by the time they convinced me that I had been in the recovery room the whole time, I understood how my consciousness had removed me from the scene.
Sadly, the psychiatrist died before I could explain to him how shortsighted the discipline of psychiatry had become.
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