Review: Anesthesia

This post is going to be a story about a time that I had anesthesia.

Once upon a time, my heart was confused and was not doing the beats the right way. Apparently even my heart doesn't have a good sense of rhythm. Maybe this is why I can't dance.

Anyway! There's this really simple procedure where they talk to your arteries in your groin (ew, gross) and laser out these extra electrical pathways in your heart that are messing up the beats and making you a bad dancer. It's really really common, and you don't even have to be asleep during the whole thing.

Since you don't have to be asleep, the anesthetic they give you isn't the kind that will necessarily knock you out. The doctor told me right before that almost everyone falls asleep, or at least lightly dozes, so I should expect to fall asleep.

Guess who doesn't react normally to anesthetic?

My anesthesiologist (or nurse anesthetist, whichever he was (the word anesthesia SUCKS)) was a guy named Dale. As he switched the IV over to the anesthetic, he told me to tell him if I felt anything and needed more or less. 90 seconds later, drugged-me took this as an invitation to tell Dale anything and everything that I had ever thought about ever.

They wheeled me into the operating room at some point. Or maybe it was just a regular room. I don't remember. Dale was sitting next to my table/bed/flat thing that I was lying on.

"Dale," I said, "the ceiling is moving."
"No," Dale said firmly, "it is not."
"But Dale, are you looking at it?"
"Yep."
"I see it moving."
"Well, it's not."
"But Dale, I'm looking right at it and it is moving!"
"I promise you, it's not moving."
I turned my head slightly to look at him. "Well your head just turned into a giant eagle, so whatever."
Dale made a sound through his beak that sounded like a chuckle.
"Kay. Talk to me when you're done being a bird."

At that moment, Dr. Kleinberg walked in (that's not his real name, I changed it to protect his privacy) (cuz you know, I'm super cool and professional and whatnot).

"Hey Dr. Kleinberg!" I shouted.
"Good morning Beth. How are you feeling?"
"I feel so amazing right now!"
"Good, good."
"How are you feeling?!" I was still shouting.
"I'm fine, thank you."
"Dr. Kleinberg, I did not shave my armpits before I came here."
"That's okay."
"Also I didn't get a bikini wax."
"Okay."
I looked back at Dale. "Hey Dale, you're back!"
"Hi Beth."
"Dale, this one time I got really drunk at a Passover seder, and it was really fun."
"That's nice."
"But guess what?"
"What?"
"This is SO much better!"
"Hm.
"No really, this stuff is fantastic! Can I take some home?"
"Nope."
"Can I buy it?"
"No."
"You're such a Debbie Downer, Dale."
"Yep."
"Dale Downer! You're such a Dale Downer! Hey guys," I yelled at all the nurses and miscellaneous people wearing scrubs and lab coats, "Dale is a Dale Downer!"

At some point, they got to the part where they were actually laser-ing in my heart. I knew this because I felt it. It didn't hurt. If you can imagine what it would feel like if your heart was drinking hot chocolate or tea, that's exactly what it felt like.

"Oh my god. Dale! I feel the laser! Guys, I am AWAKE right now! I am going to remember this when I wake up!"
"Okay, okay," Dr. Kleinberg mumbled.
"Dale, is he trying to tell me to be quiet?"
"Yes."
"Oh. Okay, I will whisper," I said in my loudest whisper voice. "Dale, I think we just bonded."
"Okay."
"Are we friends now?"
"Sure."
"You're a good friend, Dale."
"Thank you."

And I NEVER SAW DALE AGAIN.

I did see Dr. Kleinberg after, where he told my parents that I am very animated when given anesthetic. I had to stay in the hospital for the rest of the day so that they could keep me in a bed that was standing up. They wouldn't let me move or eat or go to the bathroom or anything. Instead, they used the IV to give my stomach food and water and such.

And this is the most exciting part: at one point, I said that I was super thirsty, and the nurse said, "I can fix that," and she switched something on the IV and it was the WEIRDEST feeling. It felt like I was drinking water, but through my veins. My throat wasn't dry anymore, and then I had an epiphany-- this is what a tree must feel like! Because trees don't have mouths, they drink through their roots, which are kind of like veins!

Moral of the story: I know what it feels like to be a tree. I am the Tree-Whisperer and it is the greatest thing ever. The end!

Also drugs are the best thing ever.

Review of the old lady at the doctor's office

Once upon a time, I had to go to the doctor's office. I had not been to this particular doctor before, but I was in the process of switching from my pediatrician to an adult doctor and as such was having an intake appointment. They made me fast because you have to fast like 12 hours before you have a blood test, and so I was very tired and out of sorts.

So I walk in with my mom (she drove me because I was afraid I would fall asleep if I didn't eat breakfast), she sits down in the waiting room, and I go to the desk to fill out paperwork or whatever. I kind of like paperwork and filling out forms and stuff, by the way. Just FYI.

Anyway, the receptionist asks for my insurance card, and I give it to her, and she walks away for two seconds to scan a copy for the doctor's records. Meanwhile, since I'm waiting for her to come back, I stand at the desk and start filling out some of the forms. Totally boring and normal, nothing out of the ordinary.

And then SUDDENLY there is a burst of wind and in storms this little old lady. She was in a hurry, like she had so many important places to be. She walks up to the desk, which is pretty small, and kind of stands in front of me and nudges me and my clipboard of forms out of the way. And I didn't really know what to do, so I stepped backward and continued to fill out my forms and wait for the return of the receptionist.

The receptionist comes back and tries to talk to me and hand me back my insurance card, but this lady butts in and says, "I have an appointment to give blood!" Which is great and all, but I don't understand why it's necessary to shove me out of the way in order to do so.

So the receptionist smiles and tells her to sit down, and someone will be right with her. And the lady sits down, and she looks kind of pissed, like since she is giving blood she is the most important person in the room (which only has three people in it, two of which were me and my mom).

A few minutes go by, and the doctor comes to the doorway and sticks his head in to look in the waiting room. Before he can even say anything, the lady jumps up and yells, "I'm giving blood!"

And the doctor looks at her and smiles and says, "That's great," and then he looks at me and says, "Beth?" and then I get to have my appointment. And the lady is FUMING because she is obviously so much more important than everybody else, even if the other people were there before her, and everyone is ignoring her precedence over other people, since she is clearly the only person who gives blood in the entire universe.

Lady, donating your bodily fluids to other people doesn't mean that you always get to go first. On the contrary, maybe you shouldn't be giving blood because yours is obviously contaminated with Snob. Plus, you don't know that the people you're trying to step on haven't given blood themselves. In fact, some of us have repeatedly been turned away for not having enough iron. SO. You, lady, are 100% a rotten tomato. F-.