Did I tell you they bamboozled me while I was in the hospital?

I was casually diagnosed by the anesthesiologist as having “white coat syndrome” – my blood pressure goes up in the presence of doctors.  I’m totally freaked out about anesthetic.  It’s not like going to sleep, it’s like being DEAD.  You don’t feel the passage of time when you’re under anesthetic.  I’m extremely phobic about this; it completely freaks me out.  So, they suggested that they give me a little sedative cocktail ahead of time.  Sounded great to me, so I agreed.

They got me in, and I got that supercute dress on.  We did the paperwork, they gave me some meds and set up an IV.  All was okay.

Then I got into the operating room, and there was a whooooole bunch of people in green with masks, and they put me on the table with my arms out for crucifixion.  Then the anesthesiologist put the mask on me and said “we’re just going to start you on a little oxygen…”


No “Relax and start counting backward from ten.”

They actually lied to me.  It was a great idea, lying to me, because it made the whole thing WAAAAAY easier.  I had already signed consent to be put under, so I don’t see any moral problem with it.  I didn’t say “wait, I don’t want to be put under”.  They just DID it.  They did it fast, they didn’t chit chat about it, they just did it.  I didn’t have time to get all worked up about it.  I can get all worked up even if you do give me a sedative.  I’m pretty excitable, sometimes. 

Everything should be like that.  RIIIIIP.  The bandaid is off.  Come on in, the unpleasant staff meeting is starting right now.  I’m packed, and I’m leaving you.  Anticipation is ten times worse than the actual event, I think, because you have to deal with the implications both before AND after the event.

That’s why I hope I die in an accident, and not from a long illness.  I don’t wanna know what hit me.


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