From the desk of Mama Piggy:
So I had a laparoscopic ovarian cystectomy on Monday, 27 November.
My eyes started tearing the moment my hubby’s face faded from my view as the nurse pushed me into the lift on the way down to the Operating Theatre (OT).
Yes, call me a coward, but thoughts of never waking up from the operation flashed through my mind. Don’t ask me why.
While in the waiting area, I calmed my nerves and reminded myself that my friends and loved ones are saying their prayers for me, and FORGOODNESSSAKE THIS IS A MINIMALLY INVASIVE PROCEDURE so get a grip on yourself woman!!
No way, man, I tell you. My whole body shook uncontrollably – I don’t know if it’s from the cold in the room (I was only clad in a thin hospital gown), hunger (having had my last meal of the day at 7.30am, and my operation was scheduled for 6.30pm) or simply, senseless fright.
I’ve always thought that they would knock you out before wheeling you into the OT (at least, that was what they did to me when I was a 9-year-old undergoing operation to remove a growth on my wrist). I had a good look around the OT. The medical apparatus and wired devices intrigued me. My pulse rate remained at a cool 60 bpm. But I didn’t feel calm at all.
They had to insert a humongous intravenous needle into my metacarpal vein for an IV drip. The anaesthetist assured me that it’s not gonna hurt. I didn’t dare to peep. He gave me a local anaesthesia on my left hand (he was right, it felt like an itsy bitsy ant bite) and proceeded to insert the needle into my numbed vein.
I waited for what seemed like eternity before the surgeons finally appeared in the OT. Here I was, shivering and shaking and feeling somewhat embarrassed that the surgical team could see me trembling under the thick blanket. Their reassuring smiles and cheerful banter did nothing to relieve my mounting tension.
“Are you ready?” My gynae asked.
You gotta be kiddin’, Doc.
So this is it. Honestly, I don't remember being so fearful undergoing surgery as a kid.
The anaesthetist did his job swiftly, telling me at the same time to think of beautiful things, such as holidays and nice places. I felt the tingly anaesthesia rushing up my arm. Before I knew it (it must have been less than 5 seconds), my consciousness faded into a black abyss.
Mama Piggy is now recuperating at home, with Kootoo Monster providing good company.
* * * To be continued * * *
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