“Alright, were ready for you Chris,” the surgeon’s assistant said in a lighthearted voice.
This was the moment that had been troubling me for the past few days. It was my time. I was fighting back the tears. I was petrified. My mom was weeping away as I, walking at a snail’s pace, slowly made it into the hallway. It seemed as if everyone was staring at me. To see what though? Perhaps to see if I would cry or have an emotional breakdown. This was the worst thought of all. Maybe they were looking at me because this was the last time that anyone would ever see me. A million and a half thoughts ran through my head.
Surgery Essay Example
What if I die?
Am I ever going to see my parents again?
No of course I am not going to die, I trust the surgeon, but then again what if he makes a mistake?
This was the worst thought of all, what my brother said the morning of my surgery:
“Can I keep all of your money when you die?”
All of these thoughts ran through my head as I trudged down death row. At last, I was there, standing at the door of the very room that they would put me under and sever into my skin with a sterilized precision tool to reattach my tendon.
Bupbup, bupbup, bupbup. The ticking time bomb in my chest was about to explode. I was laying down on the table in the operating room. To me, it looked exactly like what you saw in the movies. Looking up, all you could see was an tremendously luminous light that made you feel like you didn’t know whether you were about to die or if you on the table in an operating room. To tell you the truth, I felt both. Looking around to the sides of the table, it was even scarier; people in Scrubs and sterilized precision tools. I stared as they put the intravenous tube in my arm. I knew that the end was near. In my head lay a vivid image of my mom crying which did not help me at all. Looking over to the side, I saw my dad who was about to leave and the surgeon with his helpers getting ready to make an incision into my hand. There was only a less than one percent chance of me bleeding internally or something going wrong, and like anyone that was ever in this situation, you always think that that will be you.
Then all of a sudden, “We’re going to start giving you the anatisia now,” said the anatisiologist.
“Ok,” I replied.
All of a sudden, my limbs began getting heavy, I started to get extremely tired, my eyes started to close, they put and oxygen mask on my face.
Two hours later I woke up only to see not the surgeon, but my parents. I was so contempt at that very moment. It is not everyday that you realize how much your parents mean to you. I was so caught up with seeing my parents that I did not look at my hand. When I did, I was shocked; it was all bandaged up and appeared huge. It did not hurt then. As we were leaving the hospital, they took me out in a wheelchair because I had difficulty walking from just getting out of the surgery. I was so worn out from the surgery that I could barley walk or talk. Later that evening, when the medications from the surgery wore off, I was in excruciating pain, I only slept a couple hours that night. It was as is someone kept stabbing me again and again. I hardly slept at all that night.