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I Love the Smell of Anesthesia in the Morning – GRS cont…

Operating RoomThrough no fault of your own, I seem to be back on an accelerated schedule in my writing. Maybe it’s the time off from work, maybe it’s the need to publish after these long hiatuses, but more likely it represents a sadistic desire to have you all share my pain and triumph, but mainly the pain. Ahem, be that as it may…

When last we left off, our heroine was fervently checking her alarm and bemoaning a combination of hunger and a freshly sanded back door. I had just fallen asleep when the alarm went off on schedule. As per my standard, I gave myself enough time to ready myself in a hurry, and then stare at the wall for an hour until it was time for the car service to pick me up and take me to the hospital. The car was due at precisely 5:30 sharp, and by 5:40 I was in a total panic as the creepy lightless street remained headlight free. I was right to be in a Tijuana tizzy as this always seems to happen to me. If a name is going to be left off the roster, it’s always mine. Usually it’s because my last name usually sends me over to the back of the page that no one ever checks. Zelda Zyxzz, you know what I’m talking about girl.

OK, everyone calm down, the car did come after two hissy fit calls to the dispatcher and the ride to the hospital was uneventful. I couldn’t help but notice we passed a gorgeous looking Sheraton right near the hospital with fun looking eateries right nearby. This would haunt me in the days to come. I have to say, the Lower Bucks hospital staff was fantastic and acted like people blew in at the wee hours of the morning every Tuesday to have some major remodeling done to their tackle. A beautiful calm settled over me, which is totally unusual by the way, and I went through the motions of donning the faded backless gown and socks with the little treads on them. For once I didn’t worry about tucking; if anyone had to guess what I had down there, I was in deep shit.

The wheeled me in a gurney to the pre-op area where I was delighted to see that Heather, the PA from Dr. McGinn’s office, also kept drastically early hours. With the best bedside manner ever, she went over the standard mountain of paperwork with me, most of it indemnifying everyone in a 40 mile radius in case anything went wrong. I had to wonder if anyone at that point said, “yeah… fuck that”, hopped off the gurney and went to hunt down their gear. I realized my relaxed state was mainly due to the promise of sweet, sweet anesthesia right around the bend that would take away my hunger pangs and give me some solid shut eye. Hard to have performance anxiety when your primary role is to act like you are sleeping one off. Dr. McGinn dropped by briefly but rushed off like she had something important to get started on for some reason. Shortly thereafter, they wheeled me into a surreal room.

I immediately understood why Target was always short on 1500 watt bulbs as the eastern seaboard supply was simultaneously lit in the operating room. I squinted my eyes as masked men helped me shove my fat ass on to a table nearly identical to the one I was already on. People shuffled around looking professional, very busy, and yet like it was the usual Tuesday morning hump at the same time. I caught another glimpse of Dr. McGinn. I’m going to be able to eat right after this, right? “Um, no.” Dammit. A friendly man put a clear mask over my face after giving me a shot in the arm. Determined to fight the effects for as long as I could, you know, just for kicks, I faded to black.

The piss about anesthesia is that you wake up microseconds later still tired, but the clock is indicating you accomplished nothing all morning, you useless sack of crap. Immobile and disoriented, I was grateful to realize I was in no pain below the waist, though from the neck up I was a hot mess. I once read of an Inquisition era torture technique where they would use water to force a piece of scratchy adhesive linen down the throat, and then yank it out to tear out the esophagus lining and I was reasonably sure this had been done. Fuck, my check to the hospital must have bounced. These guys don’t play around, do they? Let’s just hope they didn’t install additional testicles down there. No, it was just the intubation that somehow managed to produce the same tortuous effect in a caring medical environment over 400 years later.

I yearned for the tiniest sip of water to ease the smoldering wreckage that was once my throat. I painfully croaked my desire to the approaching nurse. “Sorry dear, no water for a while for you. Oh, and here’s the phone. It’s your mom.”

Stay tuned for the thrilling next episode in our serial in which Michelle figures out the exact timing when the morphine pump goes live again, receives visitors, and manages to hump her ass out of bed early to the ire of the other patients.

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About michellelianna

I'm a transgender woman now in the maintenance stages of transition having all the electrolysis and surgery one can reasonably be expected to undertake. While busy exploring my new world, I took to blogging about it with dubiously popular results. I don't have quite as much to say as I used to, but I'm not quite done yet either.

9 responses »

  1. All the best Michelle, my heart is with you and I pray all goes well. I just hope that when my time comes in February that I will be able to understand my Thai doctor and hospital staff and communicate with those that likely do not have much fluency with English, if any. LOL;)

    Reply
    • I forgot to mention that today, Nov. 27 is my second birthday, that is my second anniversary of my public coming out and living the life I always believed I should have had.

      Reply
      • Happy belated second Birthday Deanna! I tried conceiving of my own, but couldn’t pick a date. Date of self realization? Diagnosis? Going full time? Surgery? Ugh. I’m too indecisive. 🙂 I hope your own journey this February goes incredibly well for you!

        Reply
  2. Surgery is the pits. I’ve had 4 non-trans related anesthesia surgeries (knees, fibroids, knees, and hysterectomy) and each time the worst part was coming out of anesthesia in the recovery room.

    Morphine and Percocet rule. Sounds like you did good. I’m envious.

    Reply
    • Thanks Jamie! Yes, is isn’t much fun coming out of it, is it? Morphine is the bomb and too bad they took away my precious, precious pump after just 2 days, the sadistic bastards. Thank you so much for commenting!

      Reply
  3. he he – I looked at the illustration and immediately thought of a certain scene in REVENGE OF THE SITH. Luckily you didn’t (I assume) wake up in an black exosuit and a bad temper.

    I had different experiences with my surgery. I went to Phuket and deliberately got a VISA card which I put money INTO with a $10,000 daily limit. Just before the surgery I paid for everything but as I was being wheeled into the theater the assistant came in and said that payment was rejected! It transpired (after a phone call in the theater itself) that the card had been given an $8000 limit by mistake! Sorted it, by breaking the payment intop two smaller parts – but for that one moment it was a nightmare come true.

    When I woke up 6 hours later it wasn’t my throat but my eyes that hurt – probably for the same reasons. Five hours of half open eyes in an air conditioned room had dried them out worse than leaving contacts in! Did you try that experiment post epipdural, of slapping one leg to see what it felt like?

    Reply
    • It’s funny you should say that. I wasn’t in black when I woke up but I was in a bad temper, and allegedly (I can’t quite remember) I kept shouting, “where the hell is Padme?”

      Wow, that sounds like a nightmare! I was expecting exactly something like that to happen to me, but my pre-surgical manic paranoia served me well for a change. I think I got lucky with the eyes – that sounds way worse than a sore throat! You know, I never thought to try slapping my leg. I was way too out of it, plus was wasn’t really clear on all that was going down there, so kept my hands up where I could see them. 🙂

      Reply
  4. Jayden Alfre Jones

    My precioussssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss! My precioussssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss! It wants more now!
    As usual, thumbs up!!! your biggest fan. LOL Jayden

    Reply

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