Going, Going…Gone

It’s strange the things that come back to you many weeks after having a general anaesthetic. I’ve had so many surgeries at this stage, I barely flinch when told I need another trip to the operating theatre. I’ve noticed over the years that the theatre staff have lots of tricks up their sleeves to keep you calm. You can’t fool an old timer however.

going going gone

I was the last patient on the list to be wheeled into the operating theatre on that day. My medical condition had deteriorated on the ward and was a real cause for concern. The surgical team looked on as I was transferred to the operating table and prepared for a general anaesthetic.  Worried eyes peered above the masks all around me but I knew I was in safe hands. Within moments, I’d been wired to a heart monitor and a blood pressure cuff was fixed to my left upper arm. My right arm already had a PICC line fitted as I was undergoing prolonged IV treatment. With the blood pressure cuff inflated on one arm and the anaesthetist injecting the anaesthetic into my other arm, an oxygen mask was gently placed over my face. It was then I was asked if I would prefer to hold the mask myself.  As I rapidly began to fade out of this world, I remember thinking “is she having me on?” :mrgreen:

Have you any funny memories of ‘going under’ that you’d like to recall? No scare stories PLEASE.

16 Responses to Going, Going…Gone

  1. Grannymar says:

    I’ll have to come back when I get the new shock absorber! 😉

  2. Steph says:

    Grannymar – I’m expecting ‘live’ blogging from you, from the operating table!

    They do some hip replacement surgery now by epidural (with sedation) so live blogging is not out of the question. You get to choose your own music too, to be blasted through ear phones (to block out the sawing noises). Sorry!

  3. Grannymar says:

    I already offered!

  4. Baino says:

    I just go out like a light. I remember being allowed into theatre when Adam had a small procedure as a child and was fascinated by how quickly he just went under rather scary watching a child actually.

  5. Steph says:

    Grannymar – Good for you and while you’re at it… have a listen to this classic in your earphones…

    Nah – Nah – Nah, nah..nah..nah..nah…Hey Jude!

    Baino – I agree. I’d rather volunteer than watch a little ‘un go under anaesthetic. You feel so useless as a parent.

  6. Geri Atric says:

    Same as Baino – out like a light! Peed myself though, during the operation. (Very embarrassing…*blush*).

  7. Lily says:

    Steph, my one is when the two eldest mice were having grommets in on the same day, when they were about 4 and 2 respectively. They both had had desperate problems with ear infections. Eldest mouse all prepped for theatre, reckoned he didn’t need them and wouldn’t go into theatre. The consultant came out of theatre and sat down beside him, and they both calmly discussed things. I still can see Patrick sitting there on the chair, his legs not even reaching the floor. The upshot of it was, the consultant said, given his reluctance, maybe he shouldn’t have them. Without giving it much thought, I asked to be gowned up and picked up a kicking and screaming child and physically put him on the operating table.

    I came out of theatre, broke down, thinking he would never speak to me again.

    He woke up after the anaesthetic and never remembered a thing. Was I ever so relieved!

    Incidentally, last year Patrick literally walked into a door at home and broke his nose. The same consultant operated on him, so it was funny re-telling him of their previous encounter.

  8. Steph says:

    Geri – I’m quite certain you’re not alone. No need to be embarrassed, I’m sure theatre staff are probably immune to bodily functions. I once vomited copious amounts of blood (it had trickled down my throat during a head op) immediately post-op and despite the anaesthetic haze, I can still remember the panic of the theatre nurse. I was just glad not to have to clean it up myself!

    Lily – That’s a great story! It’s terrible the things we parents must do for our kids. It’s so difficult to walk away from your child when they’ve just been put under anaesthetic. I know I always felt a strong sense of betrayal. Strong tea/coffee is definitely the order of the day.

    I presume middle mouse was too young to know any better?

  9. Elly Parker says:

    I had emergency surgery when I was living in France to remove a pilonidal cyst from the base of my spine.

    All I can remember is waking up from the anaesthetic having been placed on my back, with my weight on the area they had just operated on. I let out a roar and screamed for painkillers – but I had to remember through the fuzzy haze the words I needed in French.

    I was told later that on the spur of the moment that my French “wasn’t as polite as it could have been”. Still it worked and got me the 2 doses of morphine that I needed to block out the pain.

  10. Steph says:

    Elly – Hi there! Pain, is pain, is pain, whatever the language. Glad you got ‘le fix’ approprié eventually.

  11. annb says:

    I think Rory and you probably share the same “frequent flyer” status when it comes to the operating theatre. You’d think I’d be a pro at it now but it’s got to the stage where I just can’t even walk down a theatre corridor without crumbling. I now say good by to him on the ward.

    For his last trip, he was serenaded off the renal ward by a visiting cellist and flautist from the Concert Hall. Out of it on Medaz he smiled and said “oh that’s nice music” and happily went on his way. Now that’s what I call service!

  12. Steph says:

    Ann – Now, THAT’S what I call doing it in style!

    You’re right about being a regular customer but I hope never to be offered a free deal 😉

    btw Great to see you back online. I wuz getting worried, I wuz 🙂

    Having said that, I collected my own husband from hospital today – he had to spend 2 days under observation for a kidney stone. He’s just had his own taste of our public health service!

  13. annb says:

    If you’re lucky you might get a two for the price of one deal! I hear they’re all the rage these days!!

    Seriously though, wishing him well; nasty dose those kidney stones.

  14. Steph says:

    Ann – Cheers! As diagnoses go, it was relief to hear it was a kidney stone. I couldn’t visit him due to the risk of infection (our son did the necessary) so I’m very glad his ordeal only lasted two days.

    We’ve both definitely seen enough of the inside of hospitals at this stage!

  15. Zoe says:

    Hi Steph
    I’ve just been doing a bit of catching up on your blog. You’ve been through so muchjust since we saw you. Hope you are on the mend now. I will cross all my fingers for you!
    Zoe xx

  16. Steph says:

    Zoe – Lovely to hear from you. It seems like another age when you were here.

    I’d had a difficult few days so please continue to keep your fingers crossed!

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