The Operating Room

Not much to tell here. Once I clarified that the nurse was kidding (and she was), I was moved to the table. Doctor Slagle came in looking confident. I liked that. You really do want your surgeon to look confident. In fact, bravado would have been considered a real asset in my eyes. We spoke for a few minutes. He was reassuring and kind. I knew I liked this guy for a reason. He asked if we were working on the right knee, and I said that it did not matter, but what the heck, let’s start with that one.

They strapped me into place and, as soon as my arms were strapped down, I got this tremendous itch on top of my nose. Never fails, as soon as you cannot do something, you really want to do it. Suddenly scratching my nose seemed almost as important as my last pee. I decided that I would tough it out, mentally imagining my noise being rubbed by sandpaper.

We waited for the anesthesiologist to arrive (probably still laughing with everybody about the nurse’s scrubs). He arrived after about a 5-minute wait. I remember them talking about shaving my knee (that is the least of my worries) and that I would be getting sleepy. They told me to breathe in the oxygen and that I would be getting sleepy. I never even had to count backwards. The next thing I remember is waking up in a recovery room.

CONTINUE...