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Posts Tagged ‘surgery’

The nurse at the pre-anesthesia room was reading the classified ads. She’s looking for a new job, maybe for an opportunity abroad, I told myself while observing her from my bed, waiting to be brought to the operating room.

“What’s your nickname?” the anesthesiologist said as she reads through my chart page by page, and interrupting my amusement for the nurse openly looking for a job while at work and with doctors and nurses around her.

“Barry, doc” I said, smiling.

“Ah from your surname,” she mused, as if to convince herself. I affirmed her with another smile.

“Okay Barry, it’s your time.”

That didn’t sound right at first, but she’s right, it was my time. I had long wanted the tonsillectomy to be over and done with. But as two nurses were carting me off to the operating room, I realized how much trust  a patient needs to have on doctors to allow them to gamble on an operation. There are risks involved; my doctor was patient enough to explain to me all the possible complications, the most extreme of which is death. That doesn’t help build up the trust, does it? 🙂

I recall him trying to reassure me: “I’ve done this procedure for over 20 years and none of the complications has happened to any of my patients.” I recall just replying with a nod and a smile—to reassure myself more than to acknowledge his declaration of expertise.

So there I was on Valentine’s Day, lying in my hospital bed, being carted away to the operating room, after having mustered all the courage to trust my doctors for my first major operation under general anesthesia—my break-up with my tonsils. 😛

My ENT doctor welcomed me with a pat on my shoulder. Good boy, eh? Then one of the nurses played “Killing Me Softly” on the radio as I lay on the operating table and nurses were putting all the contraptions to my body.

“How apt,” I told myself, while trying to remember the sequence of events in my mind, and negating the song by singing Bon Jovi’s “It’s My Life” in my head. I’m serious. I was really singing it in my mind. And doing this helped me calm down until the anesthesiologist placed the oxygen mask on my face and I felt groggy and very, very sleepy.

The next thing I knew, the doctors and nurses were waking me up. “Barry, it’s over. It’s okay now. We’ll bring you to the recovery room.” Shit,I thought it was St. Peter and his angels waking me up as there was only blinding light when I tried to open my eyes. I’m dead, I thought. 🙂

I woke up again and saw myself in the recovery room. I saw other patients still sleeping and the nurses busily attending to each one. After over an hour in the recovery room, I was brought back to my room.  Before sunset one of the doctors checked on me, then just before leaving she said that people in the operating room found me quite amusing.

“When we woke you up and told you that you’ll be brought to the recovery room, you smiled at us,” she said.

I smiled, unable to ask: “I did?” But in my mind I continued the thought: “It must be Bon Jovi’s song, doc.” 🙂

Today as I write this I’m eating vanilla ice cream, still unable to speak clearly, and working from home for a week. It’s finally over and done with, my first major surgery. Now I think I’m ready to be 30. 😀

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i thought i could carry on with it, brush aside all the pain, endure the agony as if it were an indispensable part of me, hoping in vain that the longer i bear it, the lesser it would hurt.

but she proved me wrong today.

for a week i ditched all thoughts of seeing her again; about two months ago, she told me i’ll come running back to her, my ego set aside, and finally coming to terms with what she said was inevitable. “it’s being a man to admit you’re in pain,” she said. i only smiled in reply.

but smile i could no longer do for the past two days. and this morning, i could no longer bear the pain, the anguish, and the nagging thought that i must see her again, my ego set aside, and finally coming to terms with what i now believe is inevitable.

“i know why you’re here, without notice,” she welcomed without looking at me, as if the sound of my footsteps was enough to ascertain who i am and why i was there. “ang yabang mo kasi eh.”

i didn’t know what to say for fear i might give away all that i feel, which i didn’t want to do even if i knew i was on the losing end. i was left with no choice. i slowly walked towards her, close enough for her to turn to me and hold my face with her hands. and then there was silence.

but only briefly.

“you need an operation,” she said. “we need to surgically remove your wisdom tooth which causes you that severe pain. let’s do it tomorrow at 11:30 a.m.”

my dentist was right all along: i have to succumb to her needles and tools. i have to face my fear of surgery and have my impacted wisdom tooth removed. how can you blame me for my fear? it will be my first surgery, and like a few other things in life, the first almost always hurts. 😛

not on this one,” netizens on Yahoo! Answers all said in a thread. i am relieved by the thought that many others before me had gone through the same procedure uneventfully.

so there. i’m finally doing away with a kind of wisdom i don’t need. i don’t care if in Korea, they call it the “love teeth,” referring to the young age and the pain of first love; in Saudi Arabia, “the tooth of the mind”; or in Japanese, “oyashirazu,” literally meaning “unknown to the parents,” from the idea that it erupts after a child has moved away.

all terms and definitions are pointless, because a wisdom tooth is worthless. and tomorrow, at 11:30 a.m., i’m putting mine to its eternal rest.  

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