It is THE morning, five o'clock sharp, was awoken by the nurses coming into the room. It is a bit of a strange feeling, i wish i could have said i had been waiting for this operation for the last six orvseven years and it is finally the time to get it done. Reality is of course that i have wished to lose a lot of weight to make my life easier, i have wished that for many, many years. This operation, though, came as a bit of a surprise, not planned, a final result of a number of improbable circumstances, by chance meetings and other happenings, it was an opportunity delivered on a silver platter. I took the chance.
Got my instructions to go and take my shower, use a special anti bacterial soap for hair and body, not to use any other products, no deodorant, no perfumes. Was happy for the surgeon and his team that it wasn't an eight hour operation, can u imagine..eight hours without deodorant?
I don't know if this is the place or the time to make this observation, but uhm, isn't every soap supposed to be anti-bacterial? I mean, like the great war monger said, if you're not with me, you're against me.... So if the soap isn't anti-bacterial, then is it pro-bacterial? Personally i think it is just a brilliant marketing gimmick. One brand of soap suddenly brings out a world astonishing anti-bacterial soap, and all the other brands had to follow, else the people wouldn't want to buy theirs again.
But i recall my previous operation turning out pretty good, and i had used the hospital's anti-bacterial soap, so why change a winning horse, eh? Or soap in this case! Shower done, teeth brushed, hospital shirt on. Gone back onto my freshly made up bed. Now waiting for my driver to take my bed and me to the operating room. Dum diddi dum dum... 5 minutes to seven.... And yes, they are on time, 7 o'clock and there he is, my driver.
I really do not know how to describe my state of mind at that point, because i was soooo relaxed. A reasonable person should at least have been a little bit nervous, but i wasn't, so i guess i was unreasonable? I don't know why, but i was not worried, i was not scared, and its not because i am a person with heroic ambitions or anything such, because i knew very well what they were about to do with me, how they were going to cut me, the possible problems i could have afterwards etc... I am starting to think that doing all the research before on this whole procedure, talking to the unbelievable cool people on Facebook, Twitter and email, people who i never met before but who were so very fantastic to share their experiences with me, that really, really helped me. Also read about others who had had problems, had an understanding of what the worst scenarios could be as well after the procedure. Then there was my wife who was very supportive, i had a team at home, i had my families in both europe and the caribbean who were supporting my decision. There was the great surgeon i happened to meet, the great nursing team i had experienced last year, i was safe! I felt safe! That all contributed to my relaxed state.
And off we went, through the corridors of the hotel, sorry, no, hospital! People on the side, visitors from other patients looking you into your face with a pity look on their own, not knowing if i am awake, if i have already been operated on or not. Into the elevator, far away now from "my" room, away from everything that could possibly comfort me, and lets be blunt, on the way to the people who are literally going to have my life in their hands.
Elevators stops, out we roll, i can see signs of "Intensive Care" flashing above my head as we roll on, and suddenly i see three doors and i am thinking "And what's behind door number one?" , yep, that's how relaxed i was. Turned out i got door number two, guys opened it as if they had cameras to see us coming, it was like a beehive inside there. Five guys prepping me in the anesthetics room. Hey, i was supposed to have my good looking anesthetics girl there who interviewed me weeks ago, that wasn't fair! Had to do it with the five guys now, okay, so i really didn't have to do anything, they were the ones who had to "do" it. Only thing i had to do was to move from my comfy bed onto the operating table. One of the guys introduced the team to me, ok, but forgive me for not remembering their names. Second guy strapped my legs to the bed "for during the operation". I guess they have had patients who woke up them during the operation and tried to walk off? He told me that it sometimes happens that people dream and try to act it out. He asked me if i have chosen my dream, i asked if i could see the menu of dreams then, he chuckled, saying they're good, but not that good yet. Maybe one day i told him in French. Another guy suddenly slid a plank like extension from under the bed and asked me to rest my arm on it so he could start prepping me. Then the next guy extended another part from the other side for my second arm and told me he would just strap it down for later as he will be going into my artery, but after i am asleep. Sure go ahead, strap me down, i tell you, i think a regular person would have freaked by then. but i was cool, i was soooo relaxed. I have never smoked anything but a cigarette in my life, but thinking back, i think now what it feels like to smoke heavier stuff, because i was sooo relaxed.
Then the mask went over my mouth, and i thought, bye bye world, Hasta la Vista! Turned out to be just oxygen, they said it was to oxygenate my body before the operation. One of the guys had apparently slipped out of the room and just came back in with the announcement that he was called away to another operation room. It was the guy who introduced me to the rest of the guys, ok, so still four guys left then i thought, should be enough! Not like i could object or complain, i had the mask over my mouth. Then a question came, did the surgeon sign me? What? Sign me? Oooh, yes, i recall that from last year. Apparently they had actually had two people with same name and similar birth date in the hospital for different operations by different doctors and yes, they got inadvertently switched. Since then the surgical team has to sign your body with a felt tip pen so the team would recognize it as being their patient before they operate. It was a standard procedure now. After a while one of the surgical team came in, took my mask off, asked me who i was, who my prof was, what my birthdate was and what operation i came in for. He then signed my body. Hey, when it comes to cutting my body i am very appreciative of all the procedures being followed, no complaints from me!
So still there, strapped in by feet and arms, naked under a sheet, four guys in the same room, a gas mask over my mouth and nose. I suddenly hear one of the guys saying in French... Ok, let's go with this! I was then instructed to start breathing deeply, i did. I thought that one of my veins was prepped for a chemical to put me to sleep, but i guess it is going to be gas today? Breath deeply sir! I did...but nothing happened, took another deep breath, I exhaled, and another one, but nothing ally happened, i was really doing my best! Then the door opened of the room, i expected the surgical team to come in, but it looked like only one person. Keep breathing deeply! I did! Hey, it looks like the female cute anestisiologiosisttttt....itsist....ist...finalllllleeee arhiveeddd... I was gone! Good night! Merry dreams!
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