life in the darkness

The date of my eye surgery is confirmed. 14th march. We are going ahead. Operation cr. Calcium removal lol! It’ll be painful I know, but I can do it. This is my second time under anaesthesia. The first time, I was about 12. I was having a root of a tooth removed and they had to go digging. I can remember the machines beeping and the coldness of the anasthetic room. The anaesthetist was standing beside me and was telling me what to do. Counting backwards from 100 I think it was. I never got very far. I asked him before-hand, what it’s going to be like. He said, like going to sleep at night. Just like that. He was holding my hand as the canular was unscrewed and the drugs administered. The last thing I heard, was the beeping of the machine monitoring my heart and oxygen levels and as it faded, a warm sensation went down my throat. This I now know, was the boujie and endotracheal tubes to intubate me. I can remember swallowing almost instinctively, then nothing. The warmth was gone. Next thing I heard echoing voices and people talking next to me. I went to sit up, but was gently told to stay where I was. My throat was sore and scratchy. I was extremely tired afterwards, but quite alert. Now this time however, we have the seizures and POTS to contend with. It may be a walk in the park. It may not. We shall see. I have heard good experiences, and so far, my experience of the royal has been nothing short of exceptional. Except the drops issue, which is the IOM fault, not theirs’. So here we are. We shall see. Compared to the deep sedation I’ve had at the dentists and hospital for other things, which went well, apart from the mydazolam making my sats drop alittle,. That I’m used too. Those experiences too were very strange. The gas and air, entonox “was very strange. It starts off with a kind of warm, tingling sensation, which if the gas is increased quickly, can turn to nausea, so you have to be careful. Eventually, when you have the levels right, you start to feel like a pillow is underneath your head and you are looking down on the scene from above. Your hearing is dim, but not distant. You have coverings over your ears. And you feel very calm and relaxed. Slightly slurry but fine. With the mydazolam experience however, that is different. You start off quite normal, but then, you can taste alcohol, rather like the smell of sanitiser. But sleep washes over you. Rather like being groggy. Very drowsy. When the drugs ware off, you are sort of groggy, very tired still, but your brain is fighting sleep. Like a springboard, your head is sprung upwards off the pillows. The tears start to fall. I was asked, what are you scared of? As I told the nurse not to leave me. Infact, I pleaded with her to stay by my side. She asked the question above, what are you scared of? I said: I don’t know! I tried to ly back on my pillows, my brain fighting against the urdge to sleep! Like something was going to happen. Like it was slightly unnerving. Like I couldn’t be alone! I just couldn’t! Something was going to happen and I had to have someone there. In reality, nothing was going to happen. I was safe, They were watching me when they could. But in my mind, the sedated one, I was alone and didn’t have anyone beside me to make sure I was okay. It eventually wore off, but I was still very tired. ‘They discharged me off the dps, Day procedures suite, but I didn’t really want to leave. I was cosy, warm and in my pyjamas and just wanted to rest! Instead, I had to go home. Resting there. I couldn’t deal with eating. Even though I’d had to starve all day. The irony is that before an operation, you want food desperately, as it’s all around you and you can do nothing, but smell it. Hear plates and cups rattling. Afterwards though, you just don’t want anything. A drink perhaps, but not food! It’s strange that. We shall see how I cope this time round. The wards I’ve been told, are luxury compared to the IOM. Your own room with a toilet! Wow!!! We have nothing like that! Just a bare open ward, with a toilet at each side and a shower room I think. With beds and curtains around them. The door always open so the bells can be heard outside. Your sleep very irregular and hard. Your sleep punctured every now and then with the bells going off and the sound of people coughing. Or you yourself coughing. THEN at 5 AM, an early rise, as your obs are taken. Breakfast at 7 AM then you dress and wash, before waiting for the doctor to come and see you. Before discharge. You feel weird when being discharged. Like entering back into the outside world from somewhere. Back into the unknown. Into the day, but it feels like night. The hospital kind of felt like normality You were used to it, but back home, things felt strange. Yes, you were in your own surroundings, but everything felt earlier. You’d sort of gone back in time! Hmm! Very odd. Hopefully though, you’ll all get an experience discription. When I have the surgery. Just sitting here listening to music as I write. It’s still a cold snowy night. With frost in the air. The biting northerly wind. I love those nights and mornings. The crisp air. I remember I had to do stamina exercises at school. To run from one side of the yard to the other. The air was cold, icy and crisp. Running through the yard, I remember it making me cough. But I still did it. I used to enjoy it. When ever it snowed, I would always ask, can I go out and feel it? Feel the flakes of cotton wool? It would never stay long enough though. I would always be praying for a snow day. Praying for one less day of my support worker. For one less day of anxiety. For one cosy day at home. But it never really came. Yet here we are, in the 6th year of my psychology degree with my graduation hopefully this year! Thank you to all who are supporting me on my journey through life! It means so much to me! Have a big virtual hug! insertion point at end