I had been looking forward to today as it was my day to meet the anesthesiologist for my surgery next Monday. For those of us unaware, the anesthesiologist (I keep hearing it pronounced anaesthetist..) is the character that puts you to sleep in the operating room. He walked me through the procedure but I left still unsettled.
As I’ve previously touched on, this surgery has me at like a 9 in regards to being a nervous wreck. I had hopes of some sort of reassurance today that things would be easier leading up to the big surrender on that cold slab with all the bright lights. I wanted to hear yes, we can pump you full of morphine and yes, we can give you the epidural and then you’ll be so out of it you won’t remember any gas. None of those words found my inner ear in that meeting.
Apparently in having extreme sleep apnea this whole sedation thing is a double edged sword. Maybe I’ve talked myself up too much but as much as I’ve volunteered for this procedure let it be clear I don’t want to do it. I’m stressed about going into that O.R. and I’m freaked out about waking up in the seventh circle of hell pain wise.
Thing is the more sedation they administer to me the less likelyhood I’ll have in waking up. They want to give me enough to stay under but anything else puts me in a dangerous spot of flatlining. This is why I’m not supposed to drink or do drugs. It’s a gamble with my life.
Each morning I wake I feel it’s a miracle I made it. This is how it’s been the past week. I go to bed praying to be spared and I wake up thanking God for another day. One of two things is taking place: 1) I’m making this into something bigger than it is or 2) I sense that if something’s not changed or fixed right away then I truly am a goner.
I still have time. There are six full days ahead of me and during so I hope to achieve some semblance of calm about the whole ordeal. It didn’t help much this morning when I tried to verify that they break my jaw during the surgery. The anesthesiologist said no, they saw it apart. Saw. You could see my blood pressure going up.
Is this like a boxer going into the fight of his life? Am I the captain and this is my Titanic? I suppose all a guy can do is just breathe because soon that’s all I’ll be doing for several days postop. I’m not digressing much. That’s not a good sign. This too shall pass? Just knock me out now with a 2×4 to the temple then wake me in about two weeks. I beg you.