Surgery

Benjamin Fillmore

The slight pinching on the back of my hand was a minor annoyance, but one that I found almost impossible to ignore. I clenched my teeth as I thought about the tiny, flexible catheter floating inside my vain. My priorities may have been a bit off, but the fact that my ear was about to be cut off didnt bother me near as much as that wretched IV. Bernie was making small talk with me as I fidgeted incessantly with the back of my hand. She rested her hand absently on my leg as we talked, and her mere presence made things easier to deal with. Had I been alone in that disturbingly sterile hospital room, Im certain the the combination of the constantly dripping IV and the smell of anesthetics would have driven me to flee. I dont like hospitals. Too much pain. Bernie smiled at me. She must have known how I felt. She had stayed with me the first time the doctors had removed the growth from my inner ear. That surgery had been extremely painful, and I had reacted poorly to the anesthesia. I had stopped breathing a few times during surgery. The doctors assured me that advancements had been made in anesthesia, and that the medicine they were going to give me would be much better than before. Hollow words. No matter how true they may have been, I was still sweating an inordinate amount. Especially from my palms. That was probably why Bernie was touching my leg instead of holding my hand. It probably felt like a dead fish.

The door opened, and my anesthesiologist stepped into the room, followed by a young nurse wearing Winnie the Pooh scrubs. The doctor proceeded to fill us in on the logistics of my surgery, while the nurse took my vitals. I was poked, prodded, measured. A thousand tortures, each more cruel than the previous, were inflicted upon me in the name of medicine. The blood pressure cuff, however, was a special kind of hell. As the nurse inflated it, the pressure made my IV needle shift, and the pinching I had felt earlier morphed into a tearing sensation. It was too much. I cracked. Half hysterical laughter bubbled out of me. Everything came into focus. I realized that for the next few hours, my life would be completely out of my hands. Maybe everything would go perfectly. Then again, maybe I would die on the operating table. Maybe half of my face would be paralyzed and disfigured. But they were all maybes, and they were all out of my control. I laughed more, and my fear melted away. The doctor and nurse regarded me a little strangely, and I couldnt find any way to explain myself. Bernie to the rescue! She told them that I tend to laugh in uncomfortable situations. That is why I love my wife. She knows me so well that shes not a bit surprised when I start laughing for no apparent reason. She knows me better than anyone else and she still decided to marry me. Best. Woman. Ever. My laughter calmed down, and the doctor gave me an injection. He said it would make me feel drunk. Ive never been drunk before, so I dont have anything to compare it to, but it was awesome! They wheeled my bed out of pre-op and down the hallways. Every motion of the gurney felt like the whiplash motions of a roller coaster. I giggled

more as the fluorescent lights whizzed by over my head. My memories get a bit fuzzy at this point. I remember being on a metal table. A cold metal table. I was wearing an open back gown. The sensation was... invigorating. The doctors injected me with the anesthesia medicine. They told me I was going under soon. I certainly felt it. I grinned as the the room started to dance around me. WAIT! I shouted suddenly. All the people in the operating room stopped what they were doing and turned to look at me. They all looked a touch concerned. You said anesthesia, not euthanasia. Right? Those doctors were flabbergasted. Nobody knew how to respond, and I devolved into another round of riotous laughter. They told me later that it took over twenty minutes to put me under. Apparently thats a long time. Ive often wondered why I started laughing so hard that day. Id like to tell myself its because I was being brave, and facing the oncoming danger with a smile. But if I was to be honest with myself, I would have to admit that the truth was probably less noble. I really think that I just went slightly insane that day. Dont worry. Im better.