I’ve been knocked out for minor surgeries twice before, and they were both very different from today’s experience. The first time, I was fifteen and having all four wisdom teeth taken out. I remember getting in the chair, and I remember talking to Bob the Anesthesiologist. I remember they couldn’t find a vein to put the IV in, and they poked and prodded and finally, when they threatened to stick the needle in my big toe, a vein popped out in my hand. Apparently. The last thing I remember before waking up in the room across the hall is Bob the Anesthesiologist saying something about howling at the moon. The second time was about four and a half years ago. I had a septoplasty and I remember the doctor putting the IV in before we went into the operating room. My next memory is of getting dressed to go home.
This morning, they waited so long to knock me out that I was a little afraid they’d forgotten that part. I walked into the room, sat on the chair. Waited. They took my glasses off and put protective glasses on me. More people came in, they strapped my arms to the arms of the chair (way to keep me calm, guys), and then they draped a hose over my face and told me to breathe through my nose. Then they propped my mouth open. I was getting more and more tense by the second. I could hear all this stuff happening, but I couldn’t see anything, I wasn’t numb, and I was STILL AWAKE.
Then they stabbed me in the arm. Seriously, they weren’t gentle.
Next thing I remember, I was staring at the light overhead, listening to noises I could make NO sense of, and then I remembered where I was. And I TOTALLY understood why they won’t let you drive yourself home. Ten minutes later, in the car, I was convinced I could drive right then. (I was probably wrong. Thankfully, John wasn’t up for testing my theory.)
I’m home, the numbness has worn off, and the whole right side of my face aches. I’m supposed to keep an ice pack on it, 20 minutes on, 20 minutes off, for the first two days. Let me tell you something. It’s H A R D hard to do almost anything but watch TV when you’re holding an ice pack to your face.
My 20 minutes off is over now, so I can’t type any more. (No, I’m not going to tie this thing to my head somehow.)