Operate On Me

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.

I love that moment where the anesthesiologist is standing over you and you’re watching the mask descend onto your face by her tightly-gloved hands. “Chin up, take some deep breaths for me,” she commands.

Then, the mask is on. She’s holding it on with enough pressure to create a tight seal, and you feel it on the bridge of your nose. The oxygen is pure, but the mask smells plasticky.

The other nurse then reaches over and holds the mask while the anesthesiologist attaches a large, white syringe to your IV and tells you that you’re about to feel sleepy. She starts to inject the propofol, and you feel the warmth in your vein.

The propofol is almost gone, and so are you. Your vision softens and blurs, sounds feel further away, warmth creeps up your vein. A brief moment of euphoria, then your eyelids flutter, and you’re gone.

You’re blissfully unaware of everything happening now. The anesthesiologist takes control of the mask again. For a brief moment, both nurses have their gloved hands on the mask, making sure it is on tight.

The anesthesiologist lets the nurse hold the mask once more. She picks up a medium, clear syringe and attaches it to your IV. She injects the paralytic quickly, lavender hands working in practiced precision.

She asks the nurse to remove the mask. She rips off a piece of tape, shuts your left eye, with her right pointer finger, and secures it with tape.

She rips another piece, closes your left eye with her left pointer finger, and secures it with tape. She runs her fingers over both eyes, ensuring the tape will stay in place.

The anesthesiologist retakes control of the mask. Her left hand clamps it on, her grip much more firm than before. Her fingers wrap and your chin and squeeze to ensure a tight seal, while her right hand squeezes the breathing bag, forcing oxygen into your lungs.

This lovely anesthesiologist is going to take us on an all-encompassing anesthesia journey. This is Part 1: Pre-Op. This stage covers the first few things that patients go through before a procedure.

First, the nurse takes you into the prep room. You change into a gown, and she puts a hairnet on your head. Then she asks you questions. What medications do you take? When did you last eat? Do you smoke? Drink? Do recreational drugs? Have you had surgery before?

Then she takes your vitals. Her stethoscope roams across your chest and back as you take deep breaths. A pulse oximeter goes on your pointer finger. Everything is slightly high from nerves, but we move forward.

Next, she puts on purple gloves. They’re tight, and she releases each with a snap of the wrist cuff. Then she takes your hand and has you hold your arm out. She lets go, and starts poking with her finger to find a good vein. She finds one, and reaches for a wipe to clean it the area. It’s cold and smells like antiseptics. Then she gets the needle, uncaps it, lines it up, and says “big pinch.” You get scared, but the needle slides in with little more than a pinch. She connects your fluids, which feel cool as they enter your vein.

Then the anesthesiologist comes in. She talks to you and begins to move you to the OR. She’s pushing from behind you while the nurse steers from the side. You watch the square ceiling tiles roll by as they talk to you and try to keep you calm.

Then you turn the corner. The gurney stops as the nurse scans her badge, quickly followed by the OR doors opening with a hiss.

The gurney starts moving once again. As you cross the threshold of the OR, it begins to feel like there’s no going back. The cold air and antiseptic smell hits you as they push you in further.

As you approach the operating table, the nurse walks around the other side as the anesthesiologist parks the gurney. The anesthesiologist grabs the IV bag and the nurse move the IV line out of the way as she asks (tells) you to scoot over.

You put your hand on the operating table and start to scoot over. It’s tricky because your gown gets caught under you, so you have to move slowly. The cool air of the OR hits your arms, giving you chills.

The anesthesiologist hangs the IV bag as you settle onto the table. The nurse pushes the gurney away, comes back, and raises the armrest. You lay back as they start working around you.

Since I can only post 10 photos at a time, it will take a few installments to tell the whole story…

The sterile, cool scent of the operating room filled Anna's nose as she lay back on the table, the cold metal pressing against her skin. A thin white sheet was all that covered her, and it didn’t cover much. The bright lights above flickered softly, and she could hear the faint hum of machines, their digital beeps synchronized like a distant heartbeat.

A wave of nervousness curled in her stomach as the nurses snapped gloved on and fastened Velcro straps around her arms and legs. She did her best to remain still, but was curious to look around.

Dr. Miller, the anesthesiologist, leaned in close, her face warm but professional, her scrubs a shade of pale blue. Her brown eyes were kind, offering Anna a comforting look amidst the cold clinical atmosphere. "You're going to feel a little pinch, Anna. Just a quick one, okay?"

Anna nodded, the unease rising slightly in her chest.

Nurse Claire, standing beside the IV stand, smiled gently. "We’re going to take good care of you," she said, her voice soft, yet strong with reassurance. The soft rustle of her scrub sleeves was the only sound that followed her words.

Anna’s heart rate picked up as Dr. Miller prepared the syringe. The needle was thin, but it glinted in the bright lights. She felt a sudden tightening in her wrist, the pinch sharp but quick. A cool sensation spread up her arm. "Just the first step," Dr. Miller murmured. "That will make you feel a bit drowsy. Don’t worry, it’ll be easy after that."

The drug spread through Anna’s veins in a wave of coolness, a calm weight settling over her chest. Her eyelids fluttered as the heaviness of the anesthetic began to pull at her consciousness.

Nurse Claire placed a wrapped her purple-gloved hands around Anna’s, her fingers gentle and grounding. "You’re doing great. We’re here with you, okay?"

Anna’s eyes struggled to stay open, her vision becoming blurred at the edges. Dr. Miller moved fluidly beside her, now holding the oxygen mask in her gloved hands. It was clear, the rubber straps hanging loosely like a pair of soft ribbons. The mask, once held above her face, came closer, and Anna inhaled the sterile, faintly sweet smell of the air in the chamber.

"Just relax and breathe normally," Dr. Miller said softly as she carefully positioned the mask over Anna’s nose and mouth. The mask was snug but not tight, and as it sealed gently over her face, a soft hiss of oxygen escaped, calming the rapid rise and fall of Anna’s chest. She felt her breath fill the mask and the cool air rush in—every breath more deliberate, more natural, like the world was slowing down for just a moment.

Nurse Claire adjusted the straps, securing the mask comfortably. "Nice and easy," she whispered, smoothing the edges of the mask to ensure a perfect seal. Anna could feel the cool plastic against her skin, the faint pressure of it across her cheeks and nose.

The world around her began to fade. Each breath seemed to take her deeper. The sound of the machines grew distant, as if she was hearing it from another room. Her limbs grew heavy. Something was slithering its way up her IV. The rhythmic rise and fall of her chest was the only thing tethering her to reality.

A small voice broke through the soft fog in her mind. "You’re going to sleep now," Dr. Miller said gently, her words like a lullaby. "Just relax. You’re in good hands."

Anna’s eyelids fluttered one last time, the weight of the anesthesia pushing her further into darkness. She could still feel the cool mask, still hear the steady breathing of the women around her, but the pull to sleep was too strong.

I’ve seen some posts about people worrying what parts of their body get exposed during surgery.

Some people were worried about what parts of their body get seen or touched. Others were worrying about what position(s) they’re put into on the operating table.

I might be in the minority here… but I don’t think that’s something anyone should worry about.

You’re surrounded by medical professionals. Several of them. They’re not going to do anything nefarious while taking care of you.

You’re unconscious. You have an anesthesiologist watching everything that’s happening to you like a hawk and speaking up on your behalf.

And you’ll be told what will happen during your procedure in your appointments leading up to it.

Some procedures, such as endoscopies, don’t even required being exposed. You lay there in your gown and they don’t touch you other than probes going down your throat.

Other procedures the only parts exposed are the parts their working on. Everything else is either kept under your gown or draped.

It’s common to have bathroom accidents during surgery. Your body enters a state of relaxation that can’t stop anything. Would you rather they leave you in a soiled gown and you wake up feeling disgusting, embarrassed, and stinking up the hospital? Or would you rather they clean you up? And you would never know it happened.

And as far as position goes, why do you care? There are some surgeries that are able to be done less invasively because of the positioning of your body during the procedure. For example, endometriosis surgery has the body titled backwards to move her organs out of the way. Imagine if they had to make a large incision for someone to put tools into your body move the organs out of the way? That would be a much more difficult recovery.

When I had my gallbladder out, they told me that my midsection would be exposed because obviously that’s where the laparoscopic procedure would be happening. I asked if anything else would be visible, and the doctor said when they took my gown off there would be some brief exposure but they would be draping my lower half so nothing would be touched or remain visible.

And even if they had to see or touch me in some way out of medical necessity, I would want them to take care of me.

And I’m no smoke show, let me tell ya.

I’m overweight, and I have stretch marks in a lot of places. I have a scar across my chest and under my armpits from when I had shingles there as a kid. I have acne on my face and even on my shoulders. I have scars from my gallbladder removal surgery on my core, and one from a baseball injury on my shin.

This is all to say that I am not confident in my body, but it’s me. It’s all I know, it’s all I am. And if healthcare professionals need to see or handle something, then they need to do it.

When I’m unconscious and can’t control my wellbeing, I want smart, empathetic people calling the shots. Who better to do that than doctors and nurses, and where better to be than in the OR?

You’re never alone in that situation. In fact, there’s probably never less than 5 people in the OR when a patient is in there. You have the anesthesiologist, the surgeon(s), the nurses, the circulators, usually students shadowing some of them.

If something inappropriate were to happen, at least one of them would speak up for you. Realistically, probably more.

I understand the elements that go into this fear. You have no control under anesthesia, you don’t see, hear, or feel anything. Your brain doesn’t form memories, so you have no knowledge of what happened to you. Fearing the unknown is understandable in some cases. You’re vulnerable, and depending on the procedure, may be put in exposed positions by are handling your body.

But we’re not talking about the Epstein files here. We’re talking about medical professionals who are empathetic, intelligent, and have dedicated their lives to helping and healing others.

“Drew?” a pretty woman in black scrubs with a white mask around her chin asked as she opened the door. He stood up and began walking towards her.

“Hello, I’m Vanessa,” she continued as he got closer. “How are you?”

“I’ve, uh, been better,” he said shakily, his nerves taking over as he passed through the threshold of the door as Vanessa held it open. “This tooth is really bothering me.”

“We’ll get that fixed for you,” she said with a nod as if to say she understood his pain. “I saw your X-rays, you’re going to feel much better once it’s gone.”

“Uh, yeah,” he agreed. “I just - well, I don’t do good with medical stuff.”

“We’re going to take great care of you,” she said while putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. She stopped and opened a door as she said “Come on in, we’ll get you setup.”

As walked in, he noticed the antiseptic smell got stronger. There was one chair in the middle of the room with a stool on each side.

“Please take off your hat, glasses, and remove all personal belongings from your pockets,” Vanessa said clinically, pointing to the counter. “You can put them in the back corner there.”

He gathered his phone, wallet, and keys and placed them in his hat. He put the hat on the counter, and then took off his glasses and put them on top. He heard the distinct sound of two gloves being pulled out of a box.

“Perfect,” Vanessa said from the stool on the far side of the chair. It was slightly muffled with her mask up now , covering her whole face except for dark-brown eyes. She patted the chair and said “Come on over and sit down.”

As he did, she began pulling the gloves on. They slid on as she pulled them taught, stretching them almost to her elbow, and released each with satisfying snap. They looked so smooth on her, like a second, nitrile skin.

He enjoyed the show. Something about gloves excited him. He tried to hide his smile though, he didn’t want her to see that.

He felt uncomfortable, he sat on the edge of the chair for a few seconds unsure if he wanted to sit all the way down. She suddenly appeared in front of him and sat down on the stool on this side.

“You’re nervous,” she said. It was a statement, not a question. She enveloped my right hand in both of her purple-gloved hands. “That’s normal, we’re going to help you get through this.”

“I-,” he trailed off, unsure how to continue but overcome with emotion as his eyes teared up.

“Sit back, you’ll be more comfortable,” she said kindly, even though it was more order than empathy. He begrudgingly swung his legs up and leaned back into the headrest. She swung the armrest into place, which made him feel like he was locked in.

“I’m going to walk you through everything I’m doing, okay?” she asked rhetorically as she took his right hand in her left. “First, I’m going to put a pulse oximeter on your pointer finger. This tells us your blood oxygen level and your pulse. It’s really soft, it feels nice.” She clipped it on gently, it was very soft.

“Next, I’m going to get you a bib,” she said as she got up and disappeared from view. He listened to her footsteps fade, a cabin door open and close, and then her footsteps approach again from behind. The paper bib came over his head with the metal clip on the left side. She appeared on his right as she looped the metal chain around his neck and clipped the bib on the right side. She gently patted it down to make it flat on his chest.

“Okay, Drew,” she started as she disappeared from view behind him once again. “Next step is to start some nitrous. This’ll help calm your nerves and make you comfortable.”

“Is that nec-necassary,” he said, voice cracking mid-word and his eyes tearing. She appeared with a mask hooked up to long corrugated tubes on his right.

“I think you just answered that question,” she said as she held up the tube with the open side pointed at him. It got larger as it came closer, settling around his nose with the tubes wrapping around the side of his head.

“I don’t think I want this,” he said hesitantly as she walked behind him again.

“Just try it,” she said. “I promise it’ll help you relax. Just take some deep breaths, I’ll be turning it on in a moment.” She tightened the mask to the back of the chair and began fiddling with the machine. He then heard the tapping of thumbs on a smartphone.

“Here we go, you should feel it soon,” she said as she sat on the stool next to him, intently waiting for a reaction. Her piercing eyes were locked on his face.

The smell in the mask changed, it became mildly sweet. Within a few more breaths he started to feel himself relax and sink into the chair, a tingling feeling extending down his limbs.

“I don’t want this,” he said, still on edge.

“Yeah…That’s not really how this works,” she said matter-of-factly. “We need you to be calm to do the procedure. I’ll turn it up for you so you feel it more.”

“Wait, no!” he yelled, afraid. “You can’t drug me.” She had already doubled his dose.

“Yes, I can,” she said confidently, her right cheek raising above her mask indicating a proud smirk. “I am in charge of your safety, and I need you to be in a good place to do this procedure.”

At that moment a new woman in blue scrubs entered with a cart. Wires and tubes came from everywhere, and there were several screens.

“This the guy who needs GA?” the new woman said brashly.

“What’s GA?” he asked incredulously. No one answered.

“Yeah, thanks for coming so quickly,” Vanessa said. “He’s very anxious and agitated, I started his nitrous really light but just doubled it so hopefully he’ll calm down soon.” The new woman looked at the monitor.

“Double it again, I’ll be right back,” she said as she turned and left. Vanessa reached back and twisted a knob.

“No! What are you doing to me?” he asked, clearly terrified. “Woah,” quickly followed as the new dose reached him.

She took his right hand in both of hers and said, “Drew, it is not safe to do this procedure on you while you’re this stressed out, anxious, and scared. We are going to put you under general anesthesia. You won’t see, hear, or feel a thing.”

“I didn’t consent to this,” he declared while trying to get up. He didn’t know that the mask was tied to the chair, so he couldn’t move his head. As he fiddled with that, Vanessa took a long restraint from under the table and put it around his ankles so his legs were stuck to the table.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked. He was trying to be angry but the nitrous was making that hard.

“Because I care about you and your safety,” she said gently. “This is what’s best for you, and for us.”

“Alright, let’s do this,” the new woman declared as she came back, entering the room, holding a silver tray. “Vanessa, would you be able to sit on the other side? I don’t think the cart will fit over there.”

“Sure thing,” she said as she got up. And walked around his feet. The nitrous was definitely hitting harder now, he was having a hard time focusing,.

“Thank you,” the new woman responded. She sat down on the stool on my right and looked down at me.

“Hello, Drew,” she said, staring at me intensely. “I’m your anesthesiologist, Dr. Charlotte Zimmerman. I hear you’re nervous about today’s procedure?”

“Hehe, yeah,” he said as the nitrous won. He was still angry and scared, but it was being suppressed by a tingly, euphoric feeling.

“I’m glad the nitrous is working,” she said before looking at Vanessa. “Can you recline him please?”

“Absolutely,” she said, with a metallic clank underneath me. The chair started moving with a jolt before she even finished the word. It made his body tingle as he moved with the chair.

“Drew, have you had anesthesia before?” Dr. Zimmerman asked.

“No,” he responded.

“Do you drink or smoke?” she continued.

“No,” he responded again.

“Do you take any medications?”

“No,” he said.

Do you have any allergies?”

“No,” he said again.

“Excellent answers,” she said admirably as she held up a blood pressure cuff. “Vanessa is going to put this on your arm. I’m going to start your IV.”

“No, she cant do that. I don’t want this, I didn’t agree to this,” he thought while the blood pressure cuff got passed over him. But he couldn’t vocalize them under the effects of the nitrous.

“Drew, can you extend your arm for me?” Vanessa asked politely. He didn’t want to, but she pulled his hand and he let her. Once taught, she placed a Velcro strap around his wrist and the arm rest, restraining his left arm.

“Why?” was all he could muster. He heard Dr. Zimmerman snapping on gloves in the background, a sound that made him nervous.

“Your arm needs to stay straight for the blood pressure cuff to work properly,” she said.

“Drew, can you extend your right arm for me?” Dr. Zimmerman asked. He knew what was coming and dreaded it, but he didn’t see another option, so he did it.

He was surprised when she took his hand and began poking it, delicately prodding for a good vein to place the IV. He looked over at her, poised, confident, every action measured and deliberate. But he still knew it was only a matter of time until his right arm was strapped down too.

“Umm,” he started, but was unable to put his thoughts together to continue.

“Drew, look at me,” Vanessa said from the other side as she held his left hand and began massaging the back of it with her thumb. He turned as she continued, “We’re going to take a great care of you. Keep breathing and it’ll be over soon.”

“Over?” he asked quizzically.

“Yeah, over,” she doubled down. “We’ll get some calming medicine in you, then you’ll fall asleep, and when you wake up it’ll be over.”

His eyes were teary. He didn’t want this, but he couldn’t fight it. He was also touched by Vanessa’s kindness and reassurance as she spoke softly to him and held his hand.

“There we go,” Dr. Zimmerman said as she located a good vein on the back of his hand.

“This is going to be a little cold, Drew,” she said as she began cleaning the area with a wipe. He started to look towards her but Vanessa stopped him and squeezed his hand.

“Keep looking at me, buddy,” Vanessa said as Dr. Zimmerman lined up the IV.. “It’s okay, we’ve got you.”

“Okay, Drew, big pinch,” Dr. Zimmerman interjected.

“Oh god oh god oh god oh god,” he thought, scrunching his face and clenching his eyes as he braced for pain.

The reverse psychology got him again. The needle slid into the vein with little more than a scratch. He felt dumb as he exhaled. Tears escaped his eyes as he unclenched his eyes.

“Aww, let me help you,” Vanessa said, retrieving some gauze. She dabbed the left side of his face. “Turn towards me so I can get the other side,” she said as her left hand turned his chin. Dr. Zimmerman taped the IV down.

“All better,” Vanessa said as she turned his head back to neutral. Coolness flooded his vein as Dr. Zimmerman flushed the IV with saline.

“Thank you,” he said. “You’re nice.” He really liked how caring she was, even though she was the reason he was stuck here.

“Okay Drew,” Dr Zimmerman said. He turned his head to see her holding a medium-sized clear syringe up to the light and flicking it. “This is a nice cocktail for you, you’ll feel very relaxed in a moment.”

“Do I need this?” he asked as she twisted inserted it into the IV port.

“Yes,” she said curtly as she pushed the plunger. Vanessa held his other hand and looked on intently as he waited to feel the effects.

“I don’t feel anything,” he said with a hint of disappointment.

“You will,” Dr. Zimmerman said as she removed the now-empty syringe from the port and let the IV fluids flush the line.

A few more seconds went by and he noticed his vision softened. The edges blurred, lights appeared brighter, sounds came from farther away. The tension melted from his body, his shoulders and hips sinking into the reclined chair.

“Woah,” was all he could muster to summarize the calm euphoria that flooded his body.

“Feeling good, buddy?” Vanessa asked as her cheeks rose up in her mask, indicating a smile.

“Yeahhhh, buddyyyy,” he said, the last letters of the words dragging as his jaw slacked.

“Oh wow, you like that,” she said with a chuckle, before looking at Dr. Zimmerman. “I think he’s ready.”

“Me too,” Dr. Zimmerman agreed. She reached for a medium clear syringe on her cart, popped the cap off, and inserted it into the port.

“What’ssss thatttt meannn?” he asked, barely able to speak as she pushed the plunger.

“You’re going to be asleep soon,” Dr Zimmerman replied firmly as she removed the now empty syringe, put it on the cart, and picked up another one. “Just a couple of medications to help with that and then we’ll give you the sleep medication.”

“Ohhh, youuu alreadyyy gaveee meee theee gooddd stufffff,” he said with a smirk. “I- I feeellll sooo awesomeeee.”

Dr. Zimmerman removed the second empty medium syringe from the port and put it on the cart. She then picked up a large syringe full of a thick, white liquid.

“Ohhh shittt,” he said as he recoiled, unable to find the words but scared by the size of it.

“Don’t worry, Drew, you won’t feel a thing,” Dr. Zimmerman said. “This is the sleep medicine, we’re going to take great care of you.”

“Ummmm,” he said, afraid but unable to find words. He writhed against his restraints but they held strong.

Dr. Zimmerman ignored him and looked at Vanessa. “Do you want to do the bite block before I push this?”

“Yeah that makes sense,” she said as she turned around to grab something from a tray behind her. Once she had it, she moved her stool directly behind the top of his head. Dr. Zimmerman attached the syringe to the port, but didn’t push yet.

“Hey buddy,” she said, her brown eyes looking directly into his. “Can you open wide for me?” she asked. He did, her purple left hand appearing over his face with her pointer finger. She slotted it into his gum to help open his jaw while her right hand slid the turquoise bite block into place on the right side of his mouth. It was uncomfortable and tasted bad, and she knew that by the look on his face.

Vanessa sat there staring down at him with her gloved hands rhythmically massaging his cheeks. He smiled, or at least as much as he could with the bite block in.

“You like this, don’t you,” she asked.

“Yahhhh,” he said, having difficulty speaking with the bite block. “iiiii feeees gooo”

“Good,” she said softly as she looked up at Dr. Zimmerman and nodded. She knew what that meant and immediately started pushing the propofol. He knew what that meant and feared how it would feel, dreaded losing control, and worried about how he would feel later. It was all pushed away by the calming meds.

“You might feel a little warmth in your IV or have a metallic taste in your mouth, Drew,” Dr. Zimmerman said. “That’s normal. Just pick a nice dream and we’ll see you in a little while.”

“Keep looking at me, Drew,” Vanessa urged, sensing him getting nervous. “Let’s have a staring contest, look at me and don’t blink.”

“Okayyy,” he said, fully knowing he didn’t stand a chance. A warm feeling was starting to spread around his body.

“You’re doing great,” she said as Dr. Zimmerman drained the first syringe, removed it, and grabbed the second. He didn’t even notice.

“Woahhhh,” he said as warmth turned to euphoria, his whole body tingling.

“Don’t look away,” Vanessa said. “You’ll lose!” His eyes started rolling back, but he brought them forward.

“Ooooh, nice save,” she said admirably. “That was close, keep going!” His vision was fading, he knew he was toast.

The next rollback wasn’t fightable. His eyes rolled back and his eyelids began to flutter shut.

The last thing he heard before the void of unconsciousness swallowed him was Vanessa coyly saying “I win.”