A little gas...

After a couple minutes of forced breathing, it’s time to intubate. The anesthesiologist removes the mask and picks up the blade. She opens it and turns the light on.

She holds the blade in her left hand. With her right hand on the crown of your head, she tilts your head back as far as she can to open your airway as much as possible.

Her right hand moves to your lower jaw and opens it as she leans over you to get the best view. She lines up the blade as she holds your slack jaw open with her thumb.

She leans over you, her face mere inches from yours, her breasts brushing against your forehead. She inserts the blade, suppressing your tongue and illuminating your throat, as her left hand descends onto hour face.

Her hand is fully resting on your face as she holds your jaw open. The nurse places the breathing tube into her right hand, and she promptly slides it into your mouth, down your throat, and between your vocal chords.

After being satisfied that the tube is in position, she removes the blade turns around, and places it on the cart behind her.

She picks up an empty syringe and turns back to you. She fills it with air, attaches it to the hose in the tube, and inflates the cuff, securing a perfect seal.

Then she attaches the breathing tube to the anesthesia machine’s corrugated gas tubes.

After the line is firmly connected, she puts on her stethoscope. She leans over you, the crown of your head in her tummy, and listens to your chest.

Satisfied that the air and gas is filling your lungs and the seal is tight, she tapes the tube to your face so it doesn’t move during the procedure.

DID YOU KNOW there's a REAL PLACE in Florida where you can get a tattoo under anesthesia?? You better have a fat wallet tho- prices START at $15000 😱😱😱

Would you rather be knocked out by just the anesthesiologist? It’s just you and her. Once you’re on the operating table, she straps you in, puts a pulse oximeter on your finger, and lifts your gown at the neckline to put jest monitor stickers on your chest. Every move is measured, calm, and precise.

Then she fiddles with the anesthesia machine. She turns toward you and approaches with the oxygen mask in her right hand. Her left is reaching around your chin and tapping in an upward motion as she says “Chin up, please.” It’s framed as a request, but it’s not. You’re going to do it. Then the mask comes down and settles on your face with light pressure from her gloved hands.

After a couple of minutes of oxygen, she lets go of the mask, but it stays balanced on your face. She starts putting medicine into your IV. The first couple of syringes are small and clear. You don’t even feel anything.

Then the last one is huge, and full of a thick, milky, white liquid. As she snaps it into the port and holds it with her left hand, the right hand grabs the mask and holds it firmly on, creating a tight seal. She’ll say something like “You’re about to feel sleepy, pick a nice dream.”

Then she pushes the propofol. It burns. You get this metallic taste in your mouth. Lights pulse. Sounds feel farther away. Your eyes roll back, and then you’re out.

It’s a slower, more peaceful induction, but one person can have so much power over you. She controls the pace of everything, from prep to induction. She controls what you feel, what you see, what you hear. She takes over your breathing, your blood, your body and your soul. Total domination in minutes.

Or, would you rather be knocked out by multiple people? The anesthesiologist has a nurse or several nurses that help with everything from prep to induction.

You get on the operating table, people surround you. Gloves - all sizes and colors - move in a blur completing different tasks. Blue gloves strap you in. Purple gloves hook up your IV fluids. Gray gloves put a pulse oximeter in your finger. Black gloves lift the neckline of your gown and place heart monitor stickers on your chest. Pink gloves hold your hand.

Black gloves lower the oxygen mask onto your face and hold it there with pressure. Both hands are on your face, fingers on top of the mask and wrapped below your chin. You can’t see who but someone straps in your ankles. Purple gloves are fiddling with the IV line with a tray of syringes within reach.

The anesthesiologist nods at the nurse and something thick and warm floods your veins. She turns around, keeping one hand on the mask but removing the other, and twists something on the machine. The air becomes heavier and smells sweet.

As she comes back and her hand returns to your chin, forcing you to look up at her, she says “See you in recovery.” You groan and try to move your hand to protest but the nurse holding it doesn’t let you. Then you’re gone.

It’s a faster induction since several people can do things more efficiently, but it’s more chaotic, even with the one holding your hand. Lots of gloved hands moving on and around you, quick and gentle but also relentless and overstimulating. Many sensations, feelings, visuals, and sounds all at once, but it abruptly fades when the propofol hits. They tried to be sneaky about it too!

But it took several people to get you down, it was a team effort that everyone had a small role in. One controlled your movements, or more accurately, lack thereof. One controlled your breathing - what you breathed, how much, and when. One controlled your blood and what went into it. One controlled your heart, keeping you steady and grounded. And now they all share the responsibility of your wellbeing during the procedure.

Ultimately it doesn’t matter how many people are in the room. The result is equal: you’re out cold - senseless, motionless, thoughtless, emotionless - in an operating room for whatever procedure you need. But it’s interesting to think about the power dynamics between one person knocking you out, or several people teaming up to do it.