“Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it.”
― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire
The mood was disastrous and confusing. I was feeling sick, obviously, I was in a LOT of pain, feeling scared but the pain was covering most of that up and I was glad they were finally going to take those monsters out of my temple.
When they finally arrived, the anaesthesiologist explained to me all the risks of going under. Why? Why would they do this right before the operation?
They made me put on white toe-free socks and a stupid back-free vest. They tucked me into my treacherous bed like Gretel and pushed me into the operation room. It looked a little bit like in the movies but far more threatening. I got to walk to the operation table while five people undressed me and covered my body leaving out my arms on which they attached a few different devices to monitor stuff.
The rude woman who looked very angry, put the oxygen mask over my face very nonchalantly. She did something I could not see and then returned to put the mask where it’s supposed to go: on my mouth and nose. All the while the beeping of my heart in the background was making me nervous. Soon after or hours later, the doctor injected the first substance while telling me it would feel like drinking a glass of wine. I waited, feeling nothing. Do I drink too much? Do they know how much I drink? Did I answered the question about alcohol wron… wow that is a really strong glass of wine.. He began injecting the second substance. I can’t even remember closing my eyes. I was dreaming something. There was a light, and I was talking to someone, and it felt quite nice and peaceful. The next moment someone called out my name and I turned my head saying – hu?
Four people were transferring me into my bed, and I immediately started coughing blood, which went everywhere. I was still too confused to react properly, and I did not really care. I cared about not being able to stop coughing though. The underground drive to the waking room was a blur of lights, doctors in green scrubs telling me the coughing would stop eventually, blood and coughing.
They left and apparently straighten my bed up. None of which I can remember. There was a woman sitting in front of a computer. She was also very unfriendly. She told me I should stop coughing because my wounds would open again. Well, thank you, I did not realise that could happen and I was really enjoying the whole chocking thing.
I closed my eyes for a second and she was gone. There was a doctor there, asking me if I needed more pain meds. More? I was still trying to get my brain back, I needed to be able to think. I was tired but sleep was not an option. My throat felt like it was full of sand and stones and my jaw was hurting a great deal.
– If you are in pain, you should get more pain killers. Now you have the chance to get the good stuff. The doctor told me. I agreed reluctantly. No idea what he gave me, but I felt more awake and able to think than before. I asked him a few questions before some guys picked me up again and brought me to my room.
My roommate was gone. I was looking forward to sleep in the quiet room as the door opened. It was dark outside, and I am not sure what I had done so far, besides answering a few messages from my friends. They brought in an old woman with dementia. It took the poor nurse three hours to get her into bed and. By that point I was really in need of sleep and definitely more pain medication.
Aromatic deception 