"Mr. David! Mr. David!"
A hand on my left shoulder gently shakes me.
I wake and through bleery eyes look at the big clock on the wall. It is 0530 hours. I've been asleep four and a half hours.
"We must clean you for surgery."
Off go the bedclothes. Off go my shirt, cargo shorts, and underwear.
Administering my "cleaning" are a man and woman that were working around the ICU when I first arrived.
I'm a modest guy. This is the first time I have been naked in the presence of a female involuntarily.
I am embarrassed. (I'll soon learn to get over it.)
They apparently have NO washcloths in all of Europe. They use a damp sponge with mild soap to cleanse my body, then wipe me down with a clean towel. I'm embarrassed to be nude, but being clean is still quite pleasant. When I am King of the world, I'll have nubile young women to bathe me all the time!
They bring in a gurney and I struggle to shift my body over onto it. I am wheeled to the O.R..
There are eight or so technicians bustling, (and I DO mean bustling. All were working efficiently, and obviously had specific jobs they were intent on doing.)
One of them produces a magic marker and, on my right leg, scribes an arrow point toward my ankle, the total length of my right thigh. I know WHY they do this, but still wonder about the intelligence of a professional that needs this kind of guidance to properly do this surgery.
A technician appears over my head with an oxygen mask. He informs me, "This is only oxygen", and puts the mask over my mouth and nose. Another technician on my right side, puts a syringe in my IV port. From previous colonoscopies I assume it is Propofol.
The next thing I hear is, "Mr. David! Mr. David! Wake up. It's over."
Amazing.
I feel no pain.
I am back in the ICU.
The big clock on the wall says it is 1100 hours.
Yes, I am relieved.
4 comments:
Last Friday my brother went through some serious cancer surgery. If he woke up early it meant they tell him to enjoy the rest of his life as short as it would be but if he woke up late that meant the surgery proceeded and was probably successful. I was the second person to talk to him after surgery and I asked what his first thought was. He said "What time is it?
It was long enough.
I never broke an ankle, but sprained one bad enough to see it bent at an impossible angle. The initial numbness gave the most concern. I couldn't feel anything from the ankle down; and was torn between wanting the numbness to leave, and wanting it to stay.
Clear skies, and a good tailwind.
Nice to see competency! :-) And glad they were able to fix you up!
Gracias for the update, amigo. Bosslady feels much better.
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