#anesthetic

A fresh update is developing around Anesthetic Management of One-Lung Ventilation in Thoracic Trauma: A Retrospective Observational Cohort Study, based on the latest linked source signal available to NewzQuest. The coverage includes signals from news.google.com, giving the story more than one reference point instead of relying on a single feed headline. What changed The main development is…

It’s a good question, and one that I get asked a lot.

Believe it or not, my medical fetish started when I was reading The Hardy Boys. It’s called “Lost Brother,” the second book of the Lost Mystery Trilogy.

In this book, Frank and Joe are investigating a string of kidnappings that have happened in the same town over several years. Frank winds up getting kidnapped, and he finds all the victims in the kidnappers’ lair. When he resists and tries to leave, they resort to sedating him. More specifically, the beautiful girl who he had befriended sedates him.

Below is the chapter the sedation happens. It’s told from Frank’s perspective, and the only name that matters is Chloe. Chloe was a friend of Frank’s who was training to become a nurse, but she betrays him when the boss says he can be her first patient. The kidnappers used nicknames.

Enjoy!

I stared down at Justin, my head spinning with questions. His eyes were closed. He was lying very still. But I could see his chest rising and falling steadily.

Good. He was alive.

"Hey!" someone shouted from somewhere behind me. "What are you doing in there?" I spun around. Scar Guy was hurrying down the hallway toward me. The big guy he'd called Baby Doc loomed behind him.

Darting out the door, I started to run in the opposite direction. I'd only gone a few steps when several more people appeared at that end of the hall. Three other young, strong, tough-looking dudes. A pretty brown-haired girl in her late teens. And Chloe.

Uh-oh. I was busted.

I glanced over my shoulder. Baby Doc was holding up his taser as he and his pal barreled toward me.

There was nowhere to run.

"Should I fry him, guys?" Baby Doc asked eagerly as they all reached me. He raised his taser.

"No!" Chloe cried.

Scar Guy held up a hand to stop the bigger man.

"Hang loose, Baby Doc," he said. "I just talked to the Big Boss about this guy."

"You did?" Chloe glanced at him. "What'd he say?" Scar Guy shot me a smile. It wasn't particularly friendly.

"Looks like Frank here will be a permanent guest in the compound," he said. "We're supposed to start his prep."

Chloe's mouth formed a little O of surprise. But Scar Guy ignored her, turning to the younger girl.

“Hey, Kerry, grab me a pair of gloves, okay?" he told her.

Despite my present situation, I couldn't help doing a double take when I heard the name.

"Kerry?" I blurted out. "You're one of them! One of the Misty Falls Lost!"

Kerry had been the name of the second child to disappear, about a year after Justin. She'd been eight years old when she was taken. That had been nearly eleven years ago, which would make her about nineteen today.

She stared at me blankly. "What are you talking about?" she asked.

"Shut up, you." Baby Doc's beefy hand darted out, giving me a resounding slap on the head. Ow.

The guy didn't need a taser to do some damage.

Chloe followed Scar Guy as he led the way into the medical room. Baby Doc wrestled me along behind them.

"Listen," Chloe said, sounding anxious, "are you sure about this? Frank's not like the other ones.

He has people out looking for him, and from what I've heard in town I don't think they're going to give up. Or believe he got eaten by a bear, either." Scar Guy just laughed. "Don't worry your pretty little head about it," he said. "The Boss will figure something out."

"Yeah," one of the other tough guys put in with a smirk. "And even if he doesn't, they'll never find us here. You know that, Chloe.

Scar Guy nodded. "I almost forgot," he told her.

"The Boss wanted me to tell you—he wants Frank to be your special project. Says he thinks you're ready." Chloe's eyes widened. "Really?" she said. "He really said that?"

"Uh-huh. So are you ready to get started?" Chloe hesitated, shooting me an uncertain glance. Then she straightened her shoulders and turned back toward Scar Guy.

"I'm ready," she declared. "Let's get this done."

"Chloe!" I said. "What's going on? I thought we were, you know, friends or whatever."

She ignored me. Baby Doc's grip on my arm tightened, and one of the other guys helped him wrestle me farther into the room. Toward that second operating table.

I tried to protest. Kept fighting to get loose. But Baby Doc was scary strong. And nobody was paying attention to anything I said anymore.

Not even Chloe. She was pulling on a pair of black latex gloves. Nearby, Kerry and Scar Guy were opening cabinets and bustling around.

To be honest, I wasn't too focused on them. I was paying a lot more attention to Baby Doc and the other guy. They dragged me over and hoisted me onto the table.

"Let me go!" I yelled, struggling for all I was worth.

It didn't do any good. Within seconds, they had me strapped down onto the table. My arms and legs were immobilized. Even my head was held in place by a wide strap.

I was helpless.

From that position, I couldn't see much. All I could do was strain to hear what they were saying.

Figure out what was about to happen to me.

But they weren't saying much. Kerry mur-mured, "How many cc's?"

"Start with six," Chloe answered.

"You okay here?" asked Baby Doc. "It's almost time to pick up trays. Don't want to break schedule."

"Go ahead, and take Carl with you," Scar Guy said. "T'll stay and keep an eye on things here." Then footsteps. Fading quickly.

A moment later Chloe appeared beside the table. She bent over me, smiling distantly.

"This won't hurt much," she assured me, not meeting my eye.

"Chloe, don't do this!" I struggled against my restraints. They held tight. "Please, just stop and think about what you're doing!"

The only sign she'd heard me was a small twitch of her lips. She tied a cuff around my bicep and inflated it, making my arm throb. Then I felt her gloved hand touch my skin just below the cuff.

"Chloe, please!" I whimpered.

Yeah, I said whimpered. Can you blame me? I was feeling helpless and hopeless. My mind raced, looking for a way out, but I couldn't see one.

Chloe kept her gaze on my arm. She reached for something, and I felt cool liquid dab onto my skin. clinical voice. "Please hold still."

"I'm about to insert the IV," she said in a flat, clinical voice, “Please hold still.”

Yeah. As if I had a choice ...

I felt the needle pierce my skin and slide into the vein. Just then Kerry appeared in my line of vision. She was pushing a tall metal IV rack. Hanging from it was a clear plastic bag filled with bright purple liquid. A tube ran down toward me.

"What's that?" I demanded. "What are you doing to me?"

"Hush," Chloe said soothingly as she finished inserting the IV and then reached for the tube.

"This is all for the best. You'll see."

I felt the first globs of cool liquid pump into my arm through the IV. Chloe and Kerry stood there watching for a moment. Scar Guy appeared too, looking down at me.

I wanted to yell at them. To protest all this. But suddenly it just felt like too much effort. My eyelids started to droop.

"Looks good," Scar Guy said. "Let's leave him alone. It'll work faster if he's less agitated."

They all disappeared. I was vaguely aware of footsteps fading away, of the door clanging shut.

But I couldn't quite make myself care. I was just too tired. So tired ...

He woke with a jump. He was in a dark hospital room with a singular light on above him. He squinted to try to block out some of the light.

There wasn’t much else to see in the room. There was a clear IV bag about 5 feet away from the bed. It had a long, clear tube from the bottom of the bag to the IV in his wrist. The bag was empty so there was nothing flowing into him.

His eyes were teary from the bright lights. He tried to move to wipe his eyes, but quickly realized he couldn’t. There were restraints around both wrists and ankles, as well as a really wide one around his stomach. As he tried to move, the door opened with a jolt.

“Mike,” a nurse said, startled. “You’re not supposed to be awake yet.”

“Well, uh- I am,” he replied matter-of-factly. He got a good look at the nurse as she walked closer. She wore green scrubs, and a blue mask and hairnet matched beautifully with her blue eyes.

“Well, I’ll have to change that,” she said with crossed arms. “I’ll be right back.” She turned and left, and the door shut behind her with a click.

He didn’t understand why being awake was a problem. He also didn’t remember how he got here. And why was everything moved back from the bed? The questions were starting to pile up.

The door opened and she came back in carrying a tray with bottles of medicine, several needles, and a new, full IV bag. She placed it on the counter next to the door and grabbed two purple gloves from a box on the wall. She started to put the left one on with her back turned, and he decided to ask a question.

“Why is everything moved away from the bed?” he asked as the tight latex snapped onto her left wrist.

“You don’t remember?” she asked while turning to face him and taking a couple of steps closer. She started wiggling her right hand into the purple glove as she watched him intently.

“No,” he said while shaking his head. “Am I in trouble?”

“Not necessarily,” she said coyly as she snapped the right wrist of her glove and crossed her hands. “You’re here for some tests -

“What kind of tests?” he asked, slightly alarmed.

“Don’t worry about it,” she replied as she walked over to the IV bag. “The reason everything is moved away from the bed is because you fought us pretty hard on the first test. You hit nurse Becca with the IV pole. We felt it safest for us to restrain you and keep you sedated whenever possible.”

She removed the empty IV bag and walked over to the counter. She put the empty bag down, grabbed the new one, and walked back to the pole to hang it up.

“This is a lot to take in,” he said, clearly confused. “Why didn’t I want the test? Why did I hit a nurse? Is she okay?”

“Irrelevant,” she stated. “Well, yes, she is okay. We will help you get through these tests in a way that’s safe for everyone involved.”

“I don’t think I want this,” he said glumly.

“You don’t really have a choice, man,” she said nonchalantly. “Don’t think about it or worry too much, you’ll be back to sleep in a few minutes anyway.”

She walked back over to her tray and started filling needles from the bottles of medicine. First a medium-sized clear one. Then a medium white one. Then a very large white one. After each was done, she held it up to the light and flicked it, insuring a perfect dose.

She approached with the tray holding all of the full needles. It was intimidating up close, especially since he didn’t know what they were for. She placed it on a stool next to the IV bag.

“Okay, Mike,” she said while picking up the medium clear needle. “This is a little calming cocktail for you.” She slotted it into a port in the IV tubing and pushed it rather quickly.

“What’s your name?” he asked. She was startled by the question.

“Hannah,” she said as she took the now-empty needle out of the port and put it back on the tray. “Nurse Hannah, that is.”

“Nurse Hannah,” he said with emphasis on the nurse part. “If you’re going to put me to sleep, don’t you have to put an oxygen mask on my face? You’ll have to come closer to do that.”

“Yes I do,” she said. “And yes I will. I’ll just wait until the medicine kicks in. And speaking of medicine…” she turned and picked up the large white syringe. She inserted it into the IV bag and pushed the plunger, the thick white liquid mixing with the clear saline.

“What’s that?” he asked, intimidated by the size of the syringe and thickness of the liquid.

“Propofol,” she responded. “It’s the medicine that makes you sleepy.”

“Why not just put that in my IV?” he asked? “I’ve had three surgeries, that’s how they’ve always done it.”

“The goal is to keep you asleep for longer,” she explained. “Propofol wears off quickly. If I gave you all of that at once, you would wake up in 15 minutes. Since this IV bag will last hours, you’ll stay asleep for hours.”

“Oh,” he said. He briefly felt fear, but the calming cocktail was starting to kick in and pushed it away.

“Yeah, good question though,” she said while putting the empty big syringe back and picking up the medium white one. “But if it takes too long to kick in I’ll give you a full dose to start you off.”

“Fun,” he said with a smirk and a little giggle.

“You’re starting to feel good, aren’t you?” she observed. “The calming cocktail is working nicely, huh?”

“Yeah,” he said smirking again.

“Well good, that’s my cue to start the drip,” she said as she turned a knob on the pole. Immediately, the cloudy white liquid started dripping into a cup, gathering at the bottom, and gradually entering the IV tube. He felt coolness enter his IV.

It stung a little, but not as much as when he had surgeries and they gave him the full dose at once. He hoped she wouldn’t do that. He started to feel really giggly, but also tired as the anesthesia entered him.

“How we doin’, buddy,” she asked after a couple of minutes. She still kept her distance.

“Teehee, good,” he said laughing again.

“Nice and relaxed?” she followed up. No pain from the IV?

“Yes relaxed,” he said. “Little sting in IV.”

“That’s normal, nothing to worry about,” she said to him. She then looked over his head. “Becca you can come put the oxygen on him now.”

“Wha?” he said groggily as nurse Becca appeared over him.

“Hello Mike, remember me?” Becca asked theatrically.

“No,” he said plainly.

“Well, maybe you’ll remember this,” she replied as she lowered the oxygen mask onto his face and clamped it on with both gloved hands grasping his chin and neck. He could hear the gas hissing as it traveled up the corrugated tubes.

“Breathe deeply,” she urged as Hannah walked up to the bed now, still holding the medium white syringe.

“Why do all of this?” he asked, heavily muffled by the mask.

“It’ll be over soon,” Hannah said as she patted him on the shoulder. She then screwed the syringe into the port in his hand. She looked at Becca and said, “Tell me when.”

“Just a minute,” Becca replied. Hannah held Mike’s hand as Becca added a little sevoflurane to his mask. “It’s going to smell a little sweet now, Mike.”

He noticed it immediately. He was starting to feel more tired, but wasn’t asleep yet.

“Let’s send him off to dreamland, Hannah,” Becca said. Hannah started pushing immediately.

“Ahhhh,” Mike whined as he felt the burn traveling up his arm. “Is it done?”

“Yes,” Hannah replied. “And so are you by the looks of it.”

“Haha yeah,” Becca agreed as his eyes rolled back and his jaw slacked. She tightened her grip as she tilted his head back.

A new woman entered the room, the anesthesiologist. The white mask she wore outlined her face, leaving only her eyes visible. There was a hardness in her eyes, something almost devoid of emotion, as if she had seen too much of this, too many patients pleading, too many futile attempts to fight what was coming.

Without a word, she readied the syringe. The liquid inside was a pure white, the color of milk.

“Please,” Mike whispered, “Please, don’t—“

The anesthesiologist placed a gloved hand on Mike’s wrist, her touch unexpectedly cool. “You won’t feel a thing,” she said, her voice clinical, almost kind. Her gaze flickered to the monitor as she carefully slid the needle into his IV line. 

And then, a smooth flow of liquid into his veins. The warmth spread instantly through his arm, and for a moment, it felt like relief. The world around him began to tilt, his vision fuzzing at the edges.

“Count backward from ten,” the anesthesiologist instructed. He tried to protest, but the words didn’t come.

“Ten…” he started, voice faint, but still there. 

“Nine…” his head grew heavier, the sterile smells of antiseptic and rubber began to blend into a distant fog.

“Eight…” his limbs felt as though they were being pulled under, slow and silent.

“Seven…”The masks of the women around him were no longer clear, their faces too far away, their words growing muffled.

“Six…” The nurses were like shadows moving around him. He could hear the soft shuffle of their feet against the tile floor, but everything felt distant.

“Five…” his chest was rising and falling in slower, heavier intervals. He tried to pull himself together, to grasp at something—anything—but his thoughts were like smoke, dissipating into the cool air. 

“Four…” A sound in his ear— a nurse’s voice, distant now, almost like it was coming through a wall. He couldn’t make out the words, but he heard something like approval in her tone.

“Three…” his body was no longer his to control. The numbness had taken over completely.

“Two…” And then, just like that, the world stilled.

The sounds. The pressure. The tightening in his chest. Everything went still.

Casey had been dreading this day for weeks. She clutched the armrests like they might keep her from floating away. Her palms were clammy, and her eyes darted to every shiny metal tool laid out on the tray beside her.

“Deep breaths,” said Dr. Smith with a soothing smile. She was the senior dentist, with silver-streaked hair, calm eyes, and a voice that could probably convince a thunderstorm to quiet down.

“Easier said than done,” Casey muttered.

Beside her stood Dr. Singh, the younger associate with a playful grin and hot pink glasses, and Amanda, the dental anesthesiologist, tall and calm with a clipboard and a steely sense of confidence that made Casey feel better.

“We’re just going to start with a little nitrous oxide,” Amanda said gently. “It’ll help you relax before you go under. Sound good?”

Casey nodded, though it looked more like a twitch.

Dr. Singh lowered the mask over her nose and adjusted the dial. “This is the easy part,” she said. “In a minute, you’ll feel like you’re floating on a cloud. Just breathe.”

At first, Casey resisted it—tried to stay tense, tried to keep a grip on reality. But within moments, the tingling started in her fingers, then her toes. Her breath hitched in her chest—and then suddenly, the tension unwound. Her eyes unfocused, and a soft, silly giggle escaped her lips.

“Ohhh no,” she murmured. “I think… I can’t think.”

Dr. Ramirez smiled behind her mask. “That’s the nitrous doing its job.”

“Do you ladies know… do you know how sparkly your voices sound right now?”

Dr. Singh laughed. “She’s ready.”

Amanda leaned in, her tone clinical but kind. “Alright, Casey, now we’re going to administer the general anesthetic. You’ll be asleep in just a few seconds.”

“Sleep? I was just starting to enjoy the party…” she giggled as Amanda pushed the propofol.

She blinked slowly, a dopey grin still stretched across his face. “Tell my teeth… I love them…”

And with that, her head lolled gently to the side. Dr. Ramirez adjusted her gloves and glanced at her team. “Alright, let’s begin.”