A Big Gap (in Memory and my Gum)

Friday, I awoke before my alarm as usual, except my alarm was set thirty minutes earlier than normal. My mother was coming to pick me up for my surgery at 9:45 and I had to be awake and ready to go by then. I don't think my internal alarm gets the credit for this one though; my nerves were pretty much constantly waking me up every hour on the hour all night. It was just random chance that I happened to wake up one minute before the alarm rang out to greet another brand new day.

Aside from the toothpaste, I had not had anything to eat since 11:30 the night before. This basically meant that, although my nerves were desperately trying to throw something up, there was nothing in my stomach for them to throw. This did not stop my mouth from preparing itself for the non-vomit to not come; nor did it stop my throat from trying to work up what was not coming. It was a rather uncomfortable feeling that was only relieved by my mother having the Grateful Dead station on her radio and a very good “Wharf Rat” playing when she arrived at my house.

In my sleepy state it was easy to lose myself in the music. I also found myself suddenly remembering that the “thingie” I was going to have removed had disappeared. There was, in my mind, now a better than decent chance that no surgery would be needed. This, with the previously mentioned “Wharf Rat” still playing, had completely put my sleepy head at ease. I was going to have a three day weekend without the bother of pain.

Upon arriving at the doctor's office, I happily bounced like a Tigger into the doctor's office and said “Hi, I'm Brad and I'm here to have an operation on something I think has gone away.” I was all smiles.

Maybe my mother said that come to think of it...I was still basically asleep, but, either way, the idea that we may not need to operate was conveyed by one of us and we were rather quickly ushered into the room I had my initial exam in two months ago.

“The doctor will be in to see you in a moment” a pleasant nurse said as she closed the door behind her.

The doctor was soon in the room with my mother and me, too soon if you ask me, and was just as quickly looking in my mouth and happily saying “no, I still see plenty there for me to get at.”

Swing and a miss. Heart slowly speeding up. Sweat glands clocking in to work.

I was escorted by a new nurse into a new room and I found myself mentally in some Hostel/Disney hybrid. The room was bright, but there, in the center of this room was the chair from the films; the torture chair that innocent people have squirmed and suffered in. And next to it, the small table of shiny sharp objects used to cause said squirming and suffering. The nurse was even dressed in the same garments as the torturers in Hostel as well; only instead of black leather surgical garbs, she had happy teddy bears and and smiling flowers. It was all still very creepy and surreal, or I need to watch a lot less horror movies.

The nurse soon places a thermometer to take my temperature before the surgery begins and I see this as my last chance to stop the operation from happening. If I can raise my body temperature then they can't operate on me until I feel better. My nose had been stuffy all week, so it is possible that my nausea was actually due to an actual illness instead of my wimp-factor when it comes to potential pain. There was still hope!

I thought of every kitchen I ever worked in. I thought of physical education classes in the middle of the hot Florida afternoons I suffered through in my youth. I thought of steam engines, fever, disease, deserts, the sun. I imagined myself a marshmallow slowly becoming engulfed by the open flame it sits above. Any and everything that was hot, I imagined to absolutely no gain what so ever. My temperature was normal and the surgery was going forward as planned yet again.

Swing and a miss. No point in resisting any longer. Eyes closed and mind wandering far, far away. Needle just felt in left arm...

The next thing I know, I am waking up at my parent's house, in the guest bedroom. I am in a bathrobe and shorts and under the sheets of the bed. In the background, I hear Brian Williams and NBC Evening News. Next to my head is a tiny heart-shaped bloodstain on what I think is an expensive pillow; the label had a first and last name. It was really kind of cool though to be honest.

I have a small hole in my gum that goes all the way through. My cheek gets sucked in a bit when I swallow for now until I relearn a new way. To imagine what it feels like, remember losing a tooth as a child and that is the almost the same feeling, except I have not lost any teeth; knock on wood.

I never used any of the pain killers I was prescribed either. Damn doctor did all this great work in such an amazing way that I feel no pain at all. I can't find a good excuse to take them. Curses!