For a month I hadn’t slept well (actually it was probably years) which meant I was extremely tired which meant I was rather anticipating that “getting-put-under” moment. Sleeeeeeeeep. It was worth going under the knife.
And, of course, I trusted Dr. Garwin.
So I got all gussied up in my hospital gown, hopped into bed, and laid bare my arm for the I.V. It wasn’t long till I was feeling loose and relaxed, so I inquired of the little nurse if they had put something in the I.V. to relax me. She just looked at me a little odd and said, “No.” So I guess it was just the lying down… or the finally “getting-er-done”… or the I-just-can’t-imagine. Whatever happened during the pre-surgery moments caused me to be so relaxed that I was downright silly.
It wasn’t long till I noticed my pastor and his wife walking down the hall. I leaned way over the bed so they could see me and yelled, “Hey, you guys, come on in.” This wasn’t a private room. It was a long room with lots of beds with people in those beds awaiting various procedures or surgeries. Jack and Millie had a bit of a surprised look on their faces as they came to the bed. Maybe I’m not that friendly on a regular basis. I know I hadn’t been that happy for quite a long time.
It was time to go; the big moment had arrived. I was wheeled into the after-pre-surgery-pre-surgery room. This was the room between the super relaxed room and surgery. The room where they made sure you didn’t remember anything of what was to come.
I liked this room. I really liked this room.
Sandy, Doc’s great nurse, had arranged with me for her husband who was in nursing school to come in and observe the surgery… as long as he brought me a shake later. So all the players were there: Doc, Sandy’s husband (I still don’t know his name), and all the other people who poke, prod, cut, sew, suction, etcetera.
We were shower capped and ready to roll. I was in relaxation haven.
Until the next day. The day I clicked the little button in my hand hoping it would just keep pumping that pain-relieving medicine into my bloodstream. I had no idea that day those masochists set it on a timer.
At some point during the day Doc came in to check on me. She stopped right inside the doorway with this huge grin all over her face.
“You don’t remember anything about yesterday, do you?”
“No. What’s so funny?”
“I told them you weren’t going to remember any of that.”
“Any of what?”
“Oh, you were saying all kinds of things.”
“I was? What was I saying?”
“Wow, this is great stuff! What is this, man? I love this stuff.”
I know it sounds like I am an old hippie. I know how it sounds.
Doc goes on to tell me how they all really enjoyed the show I was putting on; I must be a happy drunk, so to speak.
Last but not least was Sandy’s sweet husband who brought me a shake, a chocolate shake. Who also enjoyed the show: the cutting, poking, prodding part and especially the “I love this stuff” part.
It’s still all a big mystery to me though, and truthfully, I don’t want to know how it’s done, what happens in the surgery room, none of it. I’m happy with the mystery… especially the mystery of that forget-forever-pre-surgery shot.