On the Operation Table

By Adwait at 7 February, 2010, 11:31 am

Generally, all of us fit humans, only hear about operations and surgeries. We hear about them from friends and family, see them in the movies and on television. They generally look all slick with the doctors saving the day in the end, well in most cases. I was a never big fan of these operation table stories, but as luck would have it, I was in one just a week ago.

I hate hospitals and everything that has anything to do with them: the smell, injections, medicine, stretchers and basically everything you would find in a functioning hospital. I have to confess that all of it did intrigue me, but I was never attracted to it! I always wanted to stay away from these medical institutions. But then the day came. My doctor told me if I ever wanted to play football again, I would have to get my ruptured ligament reconstructed. That meant surgery… which meant hospital… leading to anxiety.

So the operation was scheduled for the 1st of February. I was asked to get in the hospital by the Jan 31st to complete various formalities with insurance and small check-ups such as blood and sugar. So there I was, watching the United Arsenal game on Sunday night, in my hospital room. I had no idea what was going to happen. A couple of my friends had already undergone this surgery but both of them had different details. I didn’t know which applied to my surgery. So there I was happy, that United had thumped Arsenal in London, at the same time anxious to what was going to happen tomorrow morning.

So the day came. February 1st 2010. I got into the funny smelling hospital gown and shirt and was stretchered all the way down to the operation theatre. Then came the big nervous breakdown moment. I signed in a big thick book, and then I found myself sitting in the theatre, well actually sleeping on the bed inside. The next ten minutes where more like movie scenes. I remember a saline being injected into my left hand, then an injection in my lower back, made my feet go all numb. By the time I was completely lying down, there was another mask out over my mouth to make sure, I wouldn’t move during the operation. And the last thing I hear were some drilling noises. The amusing thing here is, though I was knocked out, not in my right state of consciences, my eyes were open. I could see a group of doctors constantly hovering around me, with various little shiny metal objects in their hands. But vision was the only sensory function working for those 47 minutes (the time the surgery took). I couldn’t feel anything. Nothing at all. There was absolutely no sound. It was as if someone had pressed my internal mute button. There was no question of taste, thankfully.

The next I remember was waking up in the recovery room. With two thick blankets over me. The doctor woke me up. We spoke briefly. He told me the surgery went well. I was still a little drowsy, so I couldn’t catch everything he said. But I’m sure nothing went wrong.

And here I am, sitting, five days later, writing this little experience, hoping to get well, hoping to get back to playing sport.

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