Balled Out Of My Mouth

I decided to get my tonsils removed a few days ago, and now I'm food deprieved. I can't wait to have my solid food again. But the frappes are a welcome!

I was initially looking forward to this operation, to the better quality of life it promised and because it was my first ever operation. You know, the excitement of doing something for the very first time? Yes I'm weird. Then as the days got nearer, I started to freak out a little. I started wondering the what if's. What if things go wrong? What if they find something they weren't suppose to? What if I wake up in the middle of the op? What if...

I have a side of me that has affinity for morbid thoughts.

Well the day came, and as I sat in the room with the ReliableOne counting down the minutes, I began to wonder.

Were they really going to wheel me down in my bed? I felt like I was taking advantage of these nice nurses. Perfectly healthy (except the tonsils) 25 year old over-stretched human being going for a free ride. That's not how my momma taught me. Or was I gonna walk down to the OT? Walking around in the gown made me feel obscene and that would be so undramatic of an entrance, no?

So in the end, I was wheeled down in my bed. There I lay, not sure where to look, what to think of, what to do. I tried to act natural and look at the ceiling, but not knowing where I was going was even more nerve-wrecking. In the cockpit, we always have one of the pilot's heads up. Usually that's me because I like to see what's coming. Hence, I felt a bit crippled and out of my place in that bed.

Let me just say, for my years of being infatuated with Grey's Anatomy, being a patient surely feels shitty. You're like a slab of meat being pushed around, nervous and cold. Then everyone around is prancing about doing something important, and you're just there humming to yourself. They lift you, slide you, poke you, and you realize the Operating Theater isn't that grand. Or much of a theater at all. So much for dreaming of a concert. It felt a little morgue-ish in fact.

The anesthetic doctor was a kind old man. He tried to entertain me, asking me what I did, where I studied. But I was plain nervous giving him simplest answers. Then I met my ENT for a whole 2 seconds, said hello and went missing. Then I was back to mr anesthetic and he was telling me what he was going to intoxicate me with. He said he was starting with the painkillers, and that's going to make me sleepy.

I was flying by the end of that shot.

Seriously, I felt why would I need anesthetic if I already felt mighty fine with just the painkillers alone? Then the anesthetic kicked in.

And I was knocked out cold.

For a surgery that was suppose to take half an hour, I decided to be a bloody patient. Took the doctors an hour and ten minutes instead ;p