I postponed the surgery to the following week. “I have to make some
arrangements at work,” I told the surgeon. I lied. I could just go through with
it immediately but I wasn’t mentally prepared for the surgery.
His nurse penned down the date for surgery. She booked the room and
cleared with the insurance company on the necessary payment. I was to be warded
the day before for pre-surgical procedures.
After the appointment, I went to the office and then back to my own
house. My staff thought I had done the surgery the way I was carrying myself. I
told them the painkiller was my best friend.
Seriously, I have no problem being put under for the surgery. My
problem is the pre-surgery procedure, especially having to draw blood for
tests.
You see, I had a painful and traumatic experience when I was
hospitalized for suspected dengue in 1974. I was poked three times in each arm by an
inexperienced nurse. She couldn’t locate the vein on my arm to draw blood. A
doctor had to draw blood at the wrist instead and using a big needle, it was
painful.
So, when the lab technician (that’s what she described herself) came
by to draw blood, I told her she will not be able to find a vein on my arm. She
has to poke my wrist instead. She told me only doctors are allowed to draw the
blood from there.
So, she tried to find a vein on my hand instead. “Your veins are
very thin,” she said. She went off after three failed attempts to get any blood
out of me.
After that, a nurse came to do the same thing. Even before she could
do it, the anaesthetist came by. “What are you doing?” he asked the nurse. “Nak
ambil darah untuk lab,” she said.
“Let me do it. I may as well put in the IV line also,” the
anaesthetist said.
Well, he didn’t put in the IV line. It took him a few minutes to
finally get half a vial of blood. But my blood was splattered all over the bed
when the nurse, who was applying pressure on my arm, did not release it after
the anaesthetist took out the needle. It shot out like water from a hose.
I felt like crying. “Dahlah susah nak dapat darah saya … bila dah
dapat, terbuang macam tu saja,” I said. The anaesthetist patched me up and
left.
The next morning at 11.30am, I was wheeled into the operating
theatre. I remembered how cold it was in there (I had surgery before to remove
a torn meniscus tissue removed from my right knee in 1989).
“Let’s put in the IV line,” the same anaesthetist said. “Aren’t you
supposed to put me under first before you put in the IV line?” I asked him. “We
only do that with children,” he said.
It was really fast. “It’s in. You see how easy it is here under the
bright lights,” he said.
A few minutes later, I was asleep. I was asked to start the zikir
but didn’t even get to finish the first line.
The surgery took about one and a half hours.
I woke up choking.
- To be continued
No comments:
Post a Comment