"The Great Escape"
October 22, 2018; Memoir
I’ve had many health issues throughout my short life. First, I was born with jaundice. When I was seven, I slit my thigh open on a cinder block. When I was eleven, the saga of my cartilage issues began with three surgeries in less than five months. While many would describe a first surgery as their most dramatic or relevant one, I’m going to talk about my second.
My second knee surgery was less serious than the first, mostly to remove my giant inconvenience of a cast and take out the screw my doctor had embedded in my bone. My mother was with me, only because she had to be, and was sitting with me in my designated curtain-square. My nurse pulls the curtain back, asks how I am. I answer “It is six o’clock in the morning and I am about to be cut open.” This particular nurse, Scarlet, named after the character from Gone With the Wind, has done my IV for all of my surgeries, and is now used to me being generally grumpy as she stabs my in the hand. Scarlet leaves, I ask my mom “Why did you curse me with terrible joints?”. She doesn’t answer. I don’t think she feels very bad about it anymore.
Another nurse enters, here to give me the good stuff: actual drugs. If you’ve ever been on rides like “G-Force” at the Space and Rocket center, you are aware of the feeling of being pushed back against those uncomfortable and germ infested mats, and then being unable to move much away from it. He connects the drugs to my IV while moving my hospital bed.
“You feeling anything yet?” he asks.
“N-oooooh. Yeah.” He laughs as I fall back and become plastered to the bed, but suddenly I am having a lot more fun. Now, I don’t condone drug use, but I would be lying if I said I don’t understand why people do them.
He says bye to my mom, I think I tried to wave, and then he was taking me to the OR. While you’re being carted to the operating room, the nurse will try to keep you awake, because it’s easier to move you from your bed to the bed in the OR if you can help. Our conversation goes as follows:
“So,” he glances at my medical wristband,” Katherine, do you play any sports?”
“Buddy, I’m in here having knee surgery, even if I played sports I wouldn’t be now.”
“Fair point. Do you do any other school things?”
“Yeah, I’m on the greenpower team.” I’ve been on a greenpower team (Discovery and Bob Jones) for three years now. It is a major part of my life, and I’m used to explaining it to people.
“What’s that? Like, you work on a greenhouse?”
“It involves cars. I think.” He laughs, but we arrive at our destination before anything else is said. I am moved to the operating bed, which is freezing.
Dr. Buckley, my surgeon, is pulling on blue latex gloves, “So, how’re you doing?”
“I don’t know.” The anesthesiologist places a green breathing mask on my nose and mouth. He asks me to take deep breaths, which I do, then he says he wants me to count backwards from ten. Now, this wouldn’t be an issue, except for the fact that my pain killer muddled mind decides that, because he’s a ginger, he must be a leprechaun. I don’t know why I assumed that this man must be trying to sell me “Lucky Charms”, but I think he’s probably used to it.
I begin counting, and easily count ten through seven. I black out around six.
Waking up from surgery is one of the strangest experiences of my life. I am confused and barely conscious as my mom makes me drink Dr. Pepper out of a little styrofoam cup. My hands are shaking, so she has to hold it for me. Once the nurses deem me okay to leave, my mom goes to get the car to pick me up. The outpatient surgery center has a little roundabout area in the back to pick up patients for convenience.
The nurse gets me into a wheelchair, then wheels me to the hall. Then leaves me. While I’m still very high. I think she had to go help another nurse, but she wasn’t coming back. So I waited, and waited, and waited. Then, I realized something, “maybe she left me here so I would leave by myself”. This was not the case, obviously, but again, I was high. So I unlock the safety on the wheelchair, something I don’t know how to do now, and begin rolling down the hallway to where my mother, and McDonalds, await. I am stopped halfway by a separate nurse, then my original nurse shows up, laughing. Which, that’s reasonable, but wow rude, you’re the one that left me alone while on “happy juice”. She takes me to my mom. My attempt at escaping the hospital had failed, but I still got chicken nuggets anyway.