Sunday, 15 October 2017

The OR experience

Symbolic pic, that's not really me. But it's what it looks like. Freaky as fuck.

I mentioned before that the first time I had a minute, non-invasive procedure a few years back, they gave me a downer to calm me - not that I needed it, first time in, but just as common procedure. I remember everything got warm and funny. The girl who was being gurneyed out was smiling and talking happily to herself while still unconscious, so I figured they gave us good stuff. They should have given me one this time, because I REALLY needed one, I was freaking out, but they forgot.
I kind of thought, though, beforehand, that it may be interesting to experience the whole thing un-stoned. And this is how that goes:

When the time comes, they ask you to lie down on the bed and two nurses gurney you into a lift, taking you to the basement. I don’t know whether all ORs are always in the basement, because a basement is the place that is going to stay operational <sic> the longest during natural disasters or air strikes. The antechamber of the place was very dark, but I could see people prepping in the room ahead. They are all dressed in green, with hats on and masks. I saw a male surgeon I’ve seen before exit, he greeted me and I greeted him back. An older lady said: Good day!, approaching me with another gurney. Because she didn’t get a response from me – I must have been looking around too intently – she repeated. I grinned and said: good day to you!
                They made me switch, slowly and carefully, onto the slightly higher gurney, at which point the other two nurses bid me farewell. The older lady (probably nurse, but also in green) wrapped me in a sheet. She said: look what I have for you! Latest fashion! and we put my hair up and under a paper cap. I was pushed into the OR. I used to find the super big round lamps scary, but this one wasn’t turned on, so it was okay. The anaesthesiologist was there and also his… assistant, I assume? - Who was a young woman. They were talking humorously about which drug to use and he chose the latter, and she said good, because she was all out of the former.
                One thing that surprised me was the anaesthesiologist saying: “You’re allergic to dust mites and cocoa and not much else, right?” and I was: “How would you know that?” .. I hadn’t mentioned that to anyone in 20 years – those tests were done when I was a kid and I hadn’t taken them seriously, because they aren’t real allergies, they just make me itchy or upset my tummy. Same as milk does or ascorbic acid. Nothing really threatening and no fucking way am I not eating ice-cream or chocolate :D I was surprised he’s done his homework and found those records. It was impressive.
                We joked about the maul as I’ve mentioned in the previous post. The older lady made me sit on the operating table with the legs-up thingie, the gynaecological kind that is never fun to see when you enter a room, and they began to undo my gown. I think they could see I kept covering up my modesty, because then they just sort of let me keep my chest covered and put a sheet over my privates. I don’t really feel very shy in hospitals, regarding my lower bits, it just feels weird about the chest. But almost all of the people touching me had warm hands, so it’s okay. The anaesthesiologist put the diodes on my shoulders and even touched my boob to put one on the torso, but he made an effort to do so simply lifting the gown, not removing it – he was polite about it, not a robot. I don’t know whether or not these people are rude when you’re out, but while I was awake, they were utmost kind.
                The anaesthesiologist kind of fixed my cap to not sit so low on my forehead, kid of adjusted it. It felt akin to someone stroking my hair to assure me. During, the young assistant put the needle in the back of my palm and actually, though it stung like a bitch, she did it really well, because later on I was able to sleep completely comfortable with it in any position. I know sometimes those things sting all night long. She then wrapped my arm in a cloth and kept it resting on a side table.
                … Don’t remember much else. I think my surgeon came in by then and was talking to me, but am not sure. Maybe. Probably. I do the same thing my dad does when he’s scared or uncomfy – he tries to make sexy jokes to appeal to people’s sympathy. It works a lot of the times. Sandra said not to look down on people who show their humanity when they are on their back, or pretend to be some sort of super woman. In fact it felt good to let go and show fear. The staff were very understanding.
                General is a little less, haha. He keeps getting upset if I cry. I cried a little while ago when we were showering me and it just felt bad. Not painful or truly unpleasant, just bad. Everything felt wrong – the water, the weight of my stomach, the feel of my genitals, the odd plasters on my tummy, which I didn’t dare look at yet. So I cried for about a minute. He says I’m abusing the signals for distress. It’s because I am always a super woman when I’m around him and he’s not used to seeing me this fucked up. Poor G. He wants me to walk the dog and go to the store already, first day home. Not allowed to be a plebe around him :D