Written by I knew that general anesthesia can mess with one’s body and mind, but I had never had it before, and it wasn’t quite what I expected. Wikipedia says:
General anesthesia is a state of unconsciousness and loss of protective reflexes resulting from the administration of one or more general anesthetic agents. A variety of medications may be administered, with the overall aim of ensuring hypnosis, amnesia, analgesia, relaxation of skeletal muscles, and loss of control of reflexes of the autonomic nervous system.
Luckily I didn’t read that before my surgery. And in case you are wondering analgesia is “absence of the sense of pain without loss of consciousness”. This was one of my big fears – that I would be one of those people you see on Oprah, who got enough anesthesia to disable their capacity to speak, but not enough to take away the sense of pain. I talked to the anesthesiologist about that, and he said he wouldn’t let that happen. I don’t know, I didn’t feel reassured.
I had erroneously thought that I wouldn’t remember anything that happened in the OR, but I’d remember everything else. What do I remember?
- Driving to the hospital
- Checking in at the front desk
- Big gap
- Being in a little room with a hospital gown on
- The anesthesiologist coming in, trying to start an iv, infiltrating the vein, and having success with my other hand (that was lucky since I only have two)
- My surgeon coming in, dressed in a three piece suit. It was navy blue with gold pinstripes and I asked why he was wearing a suit, that I didn’t get the memo and I’m in a hospital gown. I asked if he would wear it during the operation, I believe he said no.
- I had brought my ipod, the hospital suggested it as a way to relax before surgery. I didn’t know I had listened to it until I checked it a few days later and saw that I was 15 minutes into my “Relaxing Sounds of Rain” new age nature recording.
- Rolling down the hall and going into the OR.
- Big gap
- Waking up with my husband and my mother staring at me and feeling like I was going to puke. I believe the first thing I said was, “I’m going to throw up!” and a nurse ran over with an emesis basin (a vessel one uses to throw up in).
- Realizing that every time I moved my head, even a quarter of an inch, I was engulfed in nausea. I had told the anesthesiologist that I wanted lots of anti-nausea drugs (I don’t actually remember telling him that, but I was told that I did tell him). I yelled, “I can’t move my head!”
- A nurse came running, probably assuming I was paralyzed from a post general anesthesia stroke, and asked me why I couldn’t move my head. I told her if I moved it I would throw up. She wasn’t very interested in me after that.
- Big gap
- Laying on a bed in my new little room with tubes and needles and drains everywhere. The nausea was going away, maybe they did put something in my IV to control it.
- Coughing, laughing, crying all caused extreme discomfort and I got a little pillow to hug whenever I needed to do any of those things.
Mostly everything after that is mixed up and blurry. I kept asking Mr. Lemon and my mother the same questions over and over:
“How long did the surgery take?”
“Four hours.”
“Did he take out my whole kidney?”
“No.”
“How long did the surgery take?”
“Four hours.”
This went on for days.
My mother told me that my boss was the at the hospital in the morning during the surgery; I had no idea he was planning on coming. He sent flowers as well. I wanted to call him and thank him for the flowers, but I couldn’t remember his phone number. I thought I remembered it, but when I dialed it was someone else.
“Is this Ron?”
“No, this is Joe.”
“I’m sorry, I must have dialed wrong.”
I thought I dialed wrong, so I dialed again.
“Is this Ron?”
“No, this is Joe.”
“I’m sorry, I must have dialed wrong.”
About four hours later I sat up in bed and yelled “301-555-5555!” My mother asked me what was that, and I told her it was Ron’s phone number. And it was.
The pathetic part of this story is that his phone number, along with his fax number, his home phone number, and every member of his family’s phone numbers, are already in my phone. All I had to do was touch the little picture of Ron on my phone and it would have called him.
Apparently general anesthesia takes away one’s ability to handle technology.
A couple of days later I asked Mr. Lemon where the Dr. Pepper and Saltines came from that I was eating for two days. He told me I called and asked him to bring it. Big gap there.
This memory problem continued even after I got home.
“Where did these ramen noodles come from?”
“You asked me to go to the store and buy them.”
“Oh, that was a good idea.”
Friends came over the first day I was home apparently. Well, I do remember them being there, but I didn’t realize it was the day I got home. I do remember getting on the scale and seeing that I had gained 6 pounds. Now that is something you wouldn’t forget. I guess that was from the fluids they were pumping into me, and that all came out in about one day.
On the one hand I wish I could remember more details, I think what if I forgot to thank someone for something, or I was mean to someone. On the other hand, having it be kind of blurry could be a good thing, maybe there are things I wouldn’t want to remember.
“How long did the surgery take?”
“Four hours.”
“Did he take out my whole kidney?”
“No.”
“How long did the surgery take?”
“Four hours.”
