Sensory-wise, the most vivid sensations were those related to temperature and sounds. The machines beep beep beep conversation/announcement of my body -- "my vitals" and the cold air on my skin which felt bare despite the gown and blankets. I felt small and childlike.
the first attempt at inserting the IV didn't go very well, although I have "good veins" -- fat blue veins at my wrists and in my inner elbow (there must be a better word for this part of the body, right?). I wanted to go home. I had visions on the needle penetrating the vein and exiting the other side, of all my body's warm blood soaking the thin sheets. I looked away and saw K and my mother, but it was like they were far away.
I felt see through -- like a ghost -- there like a film. like a film projected on a sheet. my face is one of those faces that cannot hide feelings well unless I have the energy to feel a different feeling. I had no such energy. It's like I was wearing paper. I *was* wearing paper, but I mean my *face* felt like paper.
When the doctor came in, I felt a little more brave. I smiled, but my lips were trembling.
It's a good idea -- anesthesia. The nurse kept telling me that it is so much more sophisticated now compared to just five years ago. The anesthesiologist was young and pretty. "Will I dream?" I asked.
"One person told me they dreamed of being in a casino, and all the machines were spitting cash!" she answered. When she put the first bit of medicine in my IV, she murmured "some people compare this to a margarita, others to champagne."
The world got farther away. And the bed was moving. My sense of how far the bed was pushed -- how many long hallways were traversed and large elevators entered and exited -- must be exaggerated. It seemed to last for hours. It felt vaguely like being in that movie Tron -- neon and maze-like.
The operating room was cold and black. Huge, round lights -- like flying saucers -- hovered overhead.
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