Handicap (2) – Surgery

I’ve always been a curious girl. I want to understand how things work, and why. If somebody presents me a ‘fact’ my brain immediately comes up with an endless list of questions to probe further. I can just imagine what trouble I was as a kid when my little world started taking shape.

My curious nature didn’t change over the years. My approach to seeking answers however did. My questioning technique improved manifold when I ventured into journalism. Equipped with the essential “Five Ws + H” I get what I want to know faster and more precisely. According to my anesthesiologist, my questioning faculty is intact even under sedatives!

When my doctor said my bone is not healing properly and that it will require surgery he started an avalanche of questions. Most of which he didn’t answer to my satisfaction. I sought a second opinion from a different doctor. He immediately impressed me with his scientific approach to explaining what’s going on. Instead of saying “I think you’ll recover well” he took a protractor, drew lines on my X-Ray, measured and said “You’ll lose 40 degrees of the range of your wrist motion if we don’t correct the displaced bone within the next three days”.

I understand that language. Now that he had convinced me that surgery is necessary, he had opened Pandora’s box! Rather, Jana’s box of questions about the procedure itself, the options for anesthesia (yes, there is an alternative to general anesthesia!), and various risks. He answered my questions patiently and the schedule was set.

Enough time for me to consult “Dr. Google” on the cobra fixator, and to track down my anesthesiologist to ask him about the nerve block procedure which I had chosen as an alternative to general anesthesia. He took his time explaining to me the short-term sedative that will “relax” me first, and the axillaries block, which will numb the nerves of my arm for 8 to 12 hours.

The last words I remember in the operating room were “If you feel sleepy now, just close your eyes.” I sure did – without my glasses on. When I woke up in the recovery room, however, they were neatly placed on my nose. Turns out, I had asked for my glasses during the procedure when my doctor showed me the X-rays of the corrected bone. Why don’t I remember any of this? Well, apparently, in the haze of sedatives and nerve blocks I had been asking too many questions on what’s going on! That’s when the dose of sedative had been cranked up to shut me up! I can just picture the two doctors rolling their eyes listening to my drugged smart-ass talk! Which, by the way didn’t end there. I interrogated my doctor again in the recovery room. How many pins had he put in? How long did I sleep? Was setting the bone a problem? Again, nothing I remember!

Although I wished I could remember more of the procedure and not have bossed my doctors around, I’m happy to know that asking questions has become an instinct which my brain performs even under the influence of various drugs!