Pathos
katryxx's starkly candid account of a normally very private matter.
Pre-Op/Post-Op Post
It's Sunday night, late because I've been putting off the coming moments for as long as possible now. There's no avoiding it, so I go upstairs to face it.
Standing in front of my big mirror, I get naked. Not sexy-naked. Stripped down to a soul made of cold steel naked. I take off the necklace I happened to be wearing. I pull the rings from their particular places on my fingers. I remove the diamond earrings from my ears and put them carefully on the counter. I can't remember the last time I had them out, and now I'm really, really naked.
As I go through this pre-op ritual, my jewelry isn't the only thing shed. Also lost are my modesty, my feelings of shame and embarrassment about my conditions, and my reticence regarding the disgusting and unpleasant things about to happen to me.
Everything soft and gentle is taken away and everything that remains is as cold and sterile as the operating room in which I will soon lie.
Monday morning and I'm not really a person anymore, so much as a string of numbers. Height, weight, social security, birth date. Last menstrual cycle, last time I ate. My medical record file at the hospital could beat the shit out of any eighty year old's. I'm twenty five.
I love how they tell you not to eat or drink anything the day of your surgery and then are surprised at how difficult it is to get an iv needle into your dehydrated veins.
I like being in the kids' prep room, they have two of them. The walls are painted in bright colors, big murals of magical mushrooms and smiling flowers. I like being prepped in those rooms because it usually means that there aren't any real children getting ready for surgery. Too young to have to deal with so much. I don't get to be in the kids' room this time.
The nurses at Rose Medical Center are the BEST anywhere. They do a really good job of reminding me that I really am a person, and not just a disease or condition. We chat about my student teaching as she asks whether or not I have any contact lenses, dentures, or other implants that need to be removed. I get to pick where my iv goes, and rather than giving me shit about not taking out the earrings in my cartilage, she gives me tape to put over them instead. We laugh about me probably being more familiar with the pre-op procedures than she is. Somehow, it doesn't really make me feel better to be an old hand at this, but we all know that it's definitely to my benefit that I'm not nervous or worried about it.
As I get undressed, the nurse tells me that she'll be right back with warm blankets. I tell her that they're my second favorite part. Naturally, she asks what the best part is, and I tell her, "The vercet." Ahh, yes, I already know all their tricks. I'm eagerly awaiting my introduction to my second favorite doctor. My favorite doctor is always the same, she's my surgeon. My second favorite is always the anesthesiologist with the sleep in his shirt pocket.
In return for my signature on consent forms, and after I kiss my sweetie, my second favorite doctor pushes his syringe full of milky white drugs into my iv and it burns as it goes. I receive a stylish hair cap over my pigtails. "Feeling anything yet?" "Nope, not quite yet. Ooohhh, there it is." I focus on the sign next to the door across the hall until the letters lose their sharpness and become a jumble of black and white. Then there is no more focus anywhere. I tell the doc that I'll try not to "WHEEE!!" too loudly down the hallway as we go, and he tells me that if it isn't the drugs, it could well be his driving.
It's a good thing I'm nearly numb as we roll through the doors and into the or, which is freezing beyond all reason. I try to catch my distorted reflection in the enormous light poised at the foot of the bed that I crab-walk onto from the gurney. My favorite doctor is only barely recognizable at the foot of the bed, and at last it's impossible for me to think about the things that are about to happen. I scoot myself into position, and someone behind me puts an oxygen tube over my head. I adjust it to fit into my nose, lay back, and slip into the darkness.
Pre-Op/Post-Op Post
It's Sunday night, late because I've been putting off the coming moments for as long as possible now. There's no avoiding it, so I go upstairs to face it.
Standing in front of my big mirror, I get naked. Not sexy-naked. Stripped down to a soul made of cold steel naked. I take off the necklace I happened to be wearing. I pull the rings from their particular places on my fingers. I remove the diamond earrings from my ears and put them carefully on the counter. I can't remember the last time I had them out, and now I'm really, really naked.
As I go through this pre-op ritual, my jewelry isn't the only thing shed. Also lost are my modesty, my feelings of shame and embarrassment about my conditions, and my reticence regarding the disgusting and unpleasant things about to happen to me.
Everything soft and gentle is taken away and everything that remains is as cold and sterile as the operating room in which I will soon lie.
Monday morning and I'm not really a person anymore, so much as a string of numbers. Height, weight, social security, birth date. Last menstrual cycle, last time I ate. My medical record file at the hospital could beat the shit out of any eighty year old's. I'm twenty five.
I love how they tell you not to eat or drink anything the day of your surgery and then are surprised at how difficult it is to get an iv needle into your dehydrated veins.
I like being in the kids' prep room, they have two of them. The walls are painted in bright colors, big murals of magical mushrooms and smiling flowers. I like being prepped in those rooms because it usually means that there aren't any real children getting ready for surgery. Too young to have to deal with so much. I don't get to be in the kids' room this time.
The nurses at Rose Medical Center are the BEST anywhere. They do a really good job of reminding me that I really am a person, and not just a disease or condition. We chat about my student teaching as she asks whether or not I have any contact lenses, dentures, or other implants that need to be removed. I get to pick where my iv goes, and rather than giving me shit about not taking out the earrings in my cartilage, she gives me tape to put over them instead. We laugh about me probably being more familiar with the pre-op procedures than she is. Somehow, it doesn't really make me feel better to be an old hand at this, but we all know that it's definitely to my benefit that I'm not nervous or worried about it.
As I get undressed, the nurse tells me that she'll be right back with warm blankets. I tell her that they're my second favorite part. Naturally, she asks what the best part is, and I tell her, "The vercet." Ahh, yes, I already know all their tricks. I'm eagerly awaiting my introduction to my second favorite doctor. My favorite doctor is always the same, she's my surgeon. My second favorite is always the anesthesiologist with the sleep in his shirt pocket.
In return for my signature on consent forms, and after I kiss my sweetie, my second favorite doctor pushes his syringe full of milky white drugs into my iv and it burns as it goes. I receive a stylish hair cap over my pigtails. "Feeling anything yet?" "Nope, not quite yet. Ooohhh, there it is." I focus on the sign next to the door across the hall until the letters lose their sharpness and become a jumble of black and white. Then there is no more focus anywhere. I tell the doc that I'll try not to "WHEEE!!" too loudly down the hallway as we go, and he tells me that if it isn't the drugs, it could well be his driving.
It's a good thing I'm nearly numb as we roll through the doors and into the or, which is freezing beyond all reason. I try to catch my distorted reflection in the enormous light poised at the foot of the bed that I crab-walk onto from the gurney. My favorite doctor is only barely recognizable at the foot of the bed, and at last it's impossible for me to think about the things that are about to happen. I scoot myself into position, and someone behind me puts an oxygen tube over my head. I adjust it to fit into my nose, lay back, and slip into the darkness.