Nurse, the screens!
I have my knee arthroscopy tomorrow.
In order to paint a picture of my current state of mind, there follows the transcript of an email I sent to the Other Half this afternoon:
From: Surly Girl
Sent: 22 April 2008 14:18
To: Other Half
this afternoon's irrational fear:
that i won't wake up from the anaesthetic tomorrow and i haven't made a will so you don't have any custody of Small Person and the Ex takes her and she grows up all pikey and feral and works in Budgens on the fag kiosk for the rest of her life.
xxx
There, you see. I am not altogether confident about the chances of my waking up from a general anaesthetic tomorrow afternoon. This is irrational for many reasons.
I have had four general anasthaetics so far in my life. Two of them were for wisdom tooth extraction at the dentists, back before it was illegal to knock people out at the dentists (this legislation was introduced some years ago after some government bean-counter realised that people who had a general at the dentists were quite likely to die, owing to there not being an anasthetist or anything - they more sort of drugged you, pulled your teeth out and sat around with hopeful looks on their faces, silently willing you to wake up).* I have also had my adenoids removed (aged nine, left me with a pathological fear of giving urine samples that persists to this day) and, somewhat bizarrely, had an enormous verucca removed from my foot (aged seven - I don't even want to think about how big that motherfucker had to be in order to warrant a full-on operation).
So I am no stranger to pre-meds, to counting backwards, to coming to round in the recovery room with an inexplicably aching body. Only now, you see, my irrational fear extends to what might happen while a person is under the anasthetic to cause that sort of aching, exactly. I mean, for surgeons, it must be like slipping a librarian a roofy in the local nightclub. I am convinced that within half an hour of coming round, the internet will be awash with pictures of me in all sorts of unnatural positions, presided over by a succession of grinning middle-aged men in operating theatre wellies and golf club ties. Brrr.
Please, make it be alright. Only I've just started reading this really good book, you see, and I need to see how it comes out.**
See you on the other side.
* I know. This is a long, irritating sentence and could I please shut the fuck up with the "general anaesthetic" repetition already. Acknowledged.
** Yes, of course I would be more bothered about never seeing my daughter or partner again. I'm just showing off, innit?
In order to paint a picture of my current state of mind, there follows the transcript of an email I sent to the Other Half this afternoon:
From: Surly Girl
Sent: 22 April 2008 14:18
To: Other Half
this afternoon's irrational fear:
that i won't wake up from the anaesthetic tomorrow and i haven't made a will so you don't have any custody of Small Person and the Ex takes her and she grows up all pikey and feral and works in Budgens on the fag kiosk for the rest of her life.
xxx
There, you see. I am not altogether confident about the chances of my waking up from a general anaesthetic tomorrow afternoon. This is irrational for many reasons.
I have had four general anasthaetics so far in my life. Two of them were for wisdom tooth extraction at the dentists, back before it was illegal to knock people out at the dentists (this legislation was introduced some years ago after some government bean-counter realised that people who had a general at the dentists were quite likely to die, owing to there not being an anasthetist or anything - they more sort of drugged you, pulled your teeth out and sat around with hopeful looks on their faces, silently willing you to wake up).* I have also had my adenoids removed (aged nine, left me with a pathological fear of giving urine samples that persists to this day) and, somewhat bizarrely, had an enormous verucca removed from my foot (aged seven - I don't even want to think about how big that motherfucker had to be in order to warrant a full-on operation).
So I am no stranger to pre-meds, to counting backwards, to coming to round in the recovery room with an inexplicably aching body. Only now, you see, my irrational fear extends to what might happen while a person is under the anasthetic to cause that sort of aching, exactly. I mean, for surgeons, it must be like slipping a librarian a roofy in the local nightclub. I am convinced that within half an hour of coming round, the internet will be awash with pictures of me in all sorts of unnatural positions, presided over by a succession of grinning middle-aged men in operating theatre wellies and golf club ties. Brrr.
Please, make it be alright. Only I've just started reading this really good book, you see, and I need to see how it comes out.**
See you on the other side.
* I know. This is a long, irritating sentence and could I please shut the fuck up with the "general anaesthetic" repetition already. Acknowledged.
** Yes, of course I would be more bothered about never seeing my daughter or partner again. I'm just showing off, innit?
posted by surly girl at 6:37 pm
13 Comments:
To be fair, in the context of your exceeding long list of irrational fears*, at least this one has a faint whiff of rationality about it.
Anyway, you can't die on the operating table: you haven't worn your new shoes yet.
*so large that it's probably larger than it should be and could therefore be classed as a Surly phobia in its own right.
BTW - hope it's not too nasty.
See you back in the office whenever one of us makes it back there.
(Official diagnosis from doctor: "a fluey-virally thing".)
ah, the fluey-virally thing. i trust that because it's "viral" you're just going to have to "shake it off by yourself"?
Good luck tomorrow honey. Judging by my spam email of late if those pictures appear on the interweb I'll be the first to know!
All the best Surly,
Anaesthetics for arthroscopies are just about the safest there are. I'm sure you'll be OK - although I appreciate it's easy for me to say.
Torn between wishing you well and wanting to see the pictures.
Just the kind of person that I am.
i have just had some bread and butter and some orange squash. nothing now until later. i am what is known in the trade as "shitting my pants" and trying not to go near google and type in "anaesthetic death".
on the plus side, i had a dream where i explored a derelict hospital with robert plant. he was all worried about his hair, bless him.
gah.
Reading this a bit late due to lack of interweb yesterday, so I hope that it is all going well :-)
Your tea's on the table. Are you coming round?
oh COME ON DAMMIT SAY SOMETHING.
I have the exact same fear. exactly.
now please post because you're freaking me out.
*googles 'surgical drapes multiple piercings is this a tattoo or a birthmark you decide'*
So, are you dead then?
How are you? How ARE you? How are YOU?
C'mon, dying to know (uh, p'raps not the best phrase) how it all went.
Hope all ok. Really really.
Good Job! :)
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