Pre-Op

Under this gown, I’m naked and vulnerable. Scared shitless due to the colonoscopy/endoscopy prep I endured. All the while the itchy hospital gown chafes on my skin. I lay in a temporary waiting room before I enter the gates of heaven. The gates of heaven being the bright fluorescent lights glowing above me in the operator room before the anesthesia carries me away. An odd pair preps me for my operation, a middle-aged woman and an older man. The middle-aged woman, whose name I can’t remember, struck out on sticking me and water-filled my hand like a balloon. My hand would inevitably be bruised for the coming weeks. 

The older man who I imagined had a good smile, was blocked by the surgical masks that are stockpiled at the hospital. Instead, I saw him smile through his eyes. He stuck the needle in my arm this time which was a success. An hour passed and nothing had changed, except maybe the backup generator at the hospital turning on. The older man asked me if I wanted a stuffed animal, well of course I did. He handed me a teddy bear wearing a University of Kentucky shirt. This bear, manufactured in the great commune of China would be my best friend for the next day. 

When the anesthesiologist came in I knew I was in for a good time. His words ran circles around my head and then seemingly ran away. I was so anxious at that moment, that there was a tinfoil hat on my head, I was responding yes and no to every question directed at me. Soon enough though my wonderful nurses came in and administered a marvel of modern medicine. A sedative or painkiller that was sure to refurbish my tranquility, ahh. Within seconds I had broken through and entered the cloud realm, a headspace that most definitely caused the opioid epidemic.

After boarding air force one I was wheeled off through twists and turns of hospital hallways. After the long and treacherous journey through Covid ridden hallways, I had arrived at the operating room. As expected fluorescent floodlights beamed down and blue figures suited in their PPE were closing in on me. My bear and my good health were stripped by a nurse as I laid paralyzed on the table. The anesthesiologist counted down and before it was over my body went numb and the lights that were beaming downturned black.

Post-Op

If this is how Michael Jackson felt using anesthesia then God bless his soul. The best and worst sleep I had ever gotten was being quickly overwhelmed with pain from the rear. The nurse assigned to me was typing on the computer and noticed I had awoken from my coma. She offered me a drink, all cylinders fired in my head, the cottonmouth and dry throat would soon be eradicated. She brought a white foam cup filled with so much ice and so little ginger ale that a shot glass would’ve sufficed.

I informed the nurse of my empty cup after taking what had to have been a single sip, and that my pain was creeping up. 15 minutes later she returned with another shot of ginger ale and a syringe of Fentanyl, a true American combo. She plugged the syringe into one of my ivs, and slowly injected it in. The liquid was cold and I felt my blood coursing through my body. Energy shot through my arms and legs, and my heart jumped through my chest. I grinned, I was living through a scene of Pulp Fiction in real-time. Riding down a highway where I’m the only car, and where time doesn’t pass.

A nurse rolled me to an overnight room shortly after I was informed that I would be staying a night for observation, and boy I’m glad they did. My stomach was rattled, after a clean out the day before. The painkillers and my empty stomach seem to have finally become acquaintances. When I saw my main nurse and her student nurse, It was the happiest five seconds in the past seven months. The idea of a hot nursing student taking care of me all night was the best thing to have happened since birth. However, the thought quickly left when I threw up into a tub right next to her. She was still learning, and the lack of experience didn’t bother me under the influence of borderline heroin.

I was brought food but didn't eat anything. I laid lifeless on the hospital bed, every position hurt, and no amount of warm blankets could make me feel warm. Everything was getting on my nerves, a doorknob turning had me clenching the sheets with my fist. Late into the night, my new nurse girlfriend offered me a cheap plastic fan, after all, that is what they teach in med school. As my dad snored I fought the sleep off until it finally backhanded me, and I returned to the void.

The next day I slept through the morning. I woke up to see my surgeon standing in front of me with residents behind her. I was incredibly uncomfortable being observed by these people like I was a hamster. I told my surgeon “I didn’t think you’d come to see me.”She replied, “I am legally obligated to.” After growing up in a warzone she was very good at making jokes to cope, a tendency we both shared. She looked like she had her life together, with her neat white robe and sharp clipboard. Ironic since she displaced my life unintentionally for a little bit. A few hours and a few oxycodone later it was time to depart the Hell I had lived through. 

Recovery

“There is a  fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man’s fears and the summit of his knowledge.  This is the dimension of imagination. It is an area we call... The Twilight Zone,” or in other words, it is my bedroom. Lights out with the blinds closed. My ceiling fan squeaks and rattles, cars pass my house and birds chirp into the evening. 

The mortal body which I inhabit is numb, free, yet restricted. My thoughts are corrupted, maybe a missing 1 or 0 in my cerebral cortex. Intrusive thoughts roam free and the thoughts I willingly create jumble together. No, I am not insane, Mom, I’m on Oxycodone. Don’t get me wrong though it is not fun. I enjoy having full control of my thoughts and body. For a month it feels as if I’m being told a story of my own life, but I’m at the bottom of the well and I can barely hear. I was taken advantage of when one of my best friends wanted to watch anime with me online,  I hate anime. But, to my surprise, I watched 3 seasons of it while we were both in the comfort of our own homes. The old Coronavirus special. Oxycodone had such a special effect on me, think of your local crackhead outside of Waffle House. I was promptly put on Hydrocodone.

My grandma, doing her duty to God, and this nation made sure to remind me to stop taking the painkillers as soon as possible when she called me. Of course, she wasn’t taking into account the amount of pain and suffering I was going through. I never got any withdrawals from the pill that made me feel funny, the only withdrawals I got were from the lack of vitamin D. I barely stepped outside for weeks afterward.  In the past four days, I have been cleared to drive and  I have returned out to nature where my spirit and pale skin belong. Hopefully, the pain is coming to an end, after hours upon hours of doctor appointments, nausea, endless pain, blood, and many anxious nights.