I wrote this months ago, but never published it because I didn’t have any good photos to go with it, and kept thinking I’d redraw my sad little sketch in Illustrator or something. But I never will, and blogs with new content to read on the weekends is rare, so here you go. Enjoy my humiliation, it’s what I do.
Adding the ‘read more’ link just in case I decide to set this post on fire later.
I was waiting around for something to happen. It was my surgery day and I was all dressed up in full length compression leggings, a thin gown, and one of those lovely hair-hiding paper shower caps. I’d been wheeled into a freezing cold hallway and left up against a wall next to a fire alarm. I’d seen a string of nurses and student doctors and answered the same questions over and over. Finally, the anesthesiologist paid me a visit. He seemed nice enough with reassuring white hair tufting out from under his surgery cap, and I hoped I’d be falling asleep sooner rather than later. He went through the same questions I’d heard ten times already and wrapped up with asking (again) if I’d ever had a bad reaction to anesthesia.
I said I hadn’t (again), but explained that I tended to wake up badly – sometimes in the middle of the operation, flailing about, pulling out my IV and sending blood spattering everywhere. I have hazy memories of getting heavy weights placed over me and velcro straps on my arms before I went back under. I laughed, because isn’t that funny? But he didn’t seem to think so, he raised his eyebrows and assured me he wouldn’t let that happen, probably muttering that this is why they ask questions over and over, because it finally breaks the patient and they fess up. I really just hadn’t thought waking up badly was a very bad reaction.
He must have upped my dose somewhat, as I didn’t wake up while they were up in my business with sharp objects, so that was nice. However, when I did come to in the recovery room, I was full on Crazeballs.
I’m pretty sure that is a real, diagnosable condition.
After both my jaw surgeries, I was informed that I used my hands to sign M-O-M over and over (I only know the ASL alphabet, and not well… I can never remember the sign for P or Q). I vaguely remember signing M-O-M and H-O-M-E after my second jaw surgery and pissing off my then-significant other who wondered why I wasn’t signing his name in my drugged up state. Shouldn’t my besotted subconscious be longing for his care and tenderness? (Spoiler: no. He was for-real-Crazeballs.)
I don’t know why this barely-known, never used sign language alphabet jumps to the forefront of my barely-subconscious thoughts post-anesthesia, but apparently, that is the way I roll. The first thing I remember about waking up last month is the nurse repeatedly pushing my arms down and telling me in a “I’ve had enough of this, lady” voice that I just had to knock it off. I uncharacteristically refused to cooperate, however, because I had a SUPER IMPORTANT MESSAGE that had to be be communicated, so I continued to thrust my (abnormally long) arms straight into the air over my bed to sign broken bits of the ASL alphabet with fierce determination and complete disregard for recovery room rules.
The room around me was all fuzzy and dream like and I was slapping my chest primate-style, periodically shaking the bedrails like the world’s most obnoxious patient in all history of time, ever – all to get the nurse’s attention. And for what? To sign my husband’s name desperately in her face and point wildly around. She pushed my arms down again and again, and with strained patience said, “Look, I thought you were deaf. I had to call in a translator, but all you’re signing is your husband’s name. I know it. It’s right here on the chart. I’ve underlined it a few times if that makes you feel better.” Somehow this punched through my foggy cloud a bit more and I came to understand that it wasn’t completely necessary to wave my arms about like a frenzied Helen Keller.
Not signing M-O-M, but my husband’s name over and over… and over. I suppose that’s pretty sweet – my subconscious is good and truly besotted this time, that’s good to know.
I had enough presence of mind to stop making my spouse’s name a matter of utmost urgency and instead cast my eyes about in an attempt to clear the fog from my vision. I soon noticed a doctor in surgery scrubs and cap striding over to our corner of recovery. A patient had just been wheeled up next to me, and he stood at the bottom of the gurney to check her over. She was coming to with delicate little moaning noises and kept her arms fully by her sides like a proper patient. Someone said the doctor’s name – we’ll call him Dr. L – and this caught the wispy dreams of my drugged attention with the force of a runaway truck.
I realized I knew Dr. L. He wasn’t my doctor, but I knew him. The urgency returned ten-fold, only this time it was to connect with this man whom I barely knew in reality, and who was probably very busy with various people to cut into and stitch up. I started smacking my bedrails again and flailing about, straining out of my hospital blankets, trying to sit up, gesturing wildly in his direction.
Okay. Dear blog readers. We need to stop right here. I… never, ever behave this way when I’m in full control of all my braincells. Even if I saw someone I actually knew in, say, the grocery store, I’d likely be paralyzed with anxiety (what to say? what to say?!) and busy myself with the nectarines until she either passed me or initiated a hello herself.
SO. The fact that I was now hailing some doctor I barely knew to… do what? is almost unfathomable. I wish I could show you in person how I was banging, waving, and choking incoherently. It’s horrible, it’s what my nightmares are made of. When I tell this story in person, people are crying with laughter at this point, and I don’t think I can communicate the full effect of my thrashing, uncoordinated limbs stripped of all inhibition well enough via the written word, so let’s just go back to the story.
Dr. L notices me (how can he not, I’m acting completely mental) and heads over to my bedside, shooting the nurse a curious look. I’m sure she was like, “OH, YOU HAVE NO IDEA” with her eyes, but I was too intent on talking to Dr. L. I started signing again, right up in front of his bemused face and he quirked another look at the nurse who explained that I wouldn’t stop. I patted my hoarse throat (I’d been scoped) and croaked out with much gesturing and arm waving a bunch of incoherent nonsense. He nodded like he knew exactly what I meant. I continued, adding more bedrail shaking and stomach patting and chest pounding. Miraculously, some level of true understanding broke over his face (I think I croaked out my maiden name) and he said, “Yes, I know your grandfather well,” and he turned to go. I banged some more and flung my arms wide, “No… also. School… with… kids….” and stopped to pat my head mysteriously as for some inexplicable reason I couldn’t come up with his kids’ names. Funny, since I barely knew them in high school. He nodded, and this gave me even more encouragement. “Yes… you. my… gack, gack, croak.” He smiled and patted my arm, and I was fully satisfied. I nodded — more of an enthusiastic head bopping — and released my prisoner.
You guys. I didn’t really know him, I’ve never even properly met the man. I knew of him. His family lived in my school zone and I went to school with his kids. His daughter was a year older than me and was my arch nemesis over one very dorky boy. His son and I were in drama together, and despite the boy issue, none of us knew each other all that well, and I hope to high heaven neither one of them remember me now. My grandfather was, actually, his Stake President for several years, and I’m fairly sure he did my mother’s hysterectomy a bajillion years ago, though even if he could make the connection, I’m sure it didn’t top his list of important things to do that day. Good gravy, I hope he forgot the entire exchange and chalked it up to serious, serious drug problems.
Satisfied that I’d finally found someone to satisfy my extreme and immediate need for pointless conversation after major surgery, I settled down to behave like a sane patient. The haze over my brain continued to clear, and not too long after the doctor left, I turned to the nurse and whispered, “I… I think I handled that badly.” She clucked some soothing words — probably just glad I wasn’t signing all up in her grill any longer — and spooned me some ice chips. As I continued to wake up, the realization of how I’d acted and what I’d done sunk in. I was mortified.
My family heard this story as soon as I could speak properly — I thought my grandpa (the one who knows Dr. L) was going to have a stroke, he was laughing so hard — but I continued to suffer every time I replayed the wispy events in my head. It especially haunted me at night, and I’d bury my head in the pillow and whisper, “Oh my word” over and over while I felt the burn creep up my face to singe my ears off. I tried to convince myself that patients waking up badly can’t be an altogether uncommon occurrence but I’m pretty sure I’ve become a story for the nurses (and doctor) to tell around the water cooler. At least I didn’t strip and run around in nothing but compression hose?
I have a plethora of embarrassing moments, but this is definitely one of the top 10. What is your most humiliating experience?
This is certainly one of my all-time favorite stories and I pee my pants every time I hear you tell it…the extremely long, flailing arms create a visual picture that has me laughing hysterically.
Don’t burn it, this is a post for the ages.
One of the lucky few to hear it in person, ha ha ;o)
When I was in labor with my first, they gave me “something” for pain that didn’t help the pain but it made me completely drunk. Apparently I kept trying to assure the nurse that we’re really nice people, not people who normally bother nurses with silly things like giving birth and pain. I pled with her to understand that we like boardgames and other normal people things. That’s when they gave me an epidural and told me to sleep it off. Very good call.
I tend to ask for the husband when I come out of anesthesia. I just like to know that the person holding my hand will keep me safe when I’m in that vulnerable state.
Andrea, that is hilarious and sounds like something I’d try to do. I kept apologizing after my D&C, and heard the anesthesiologist say, “You’re the most apologetic patient I’ve ever met.”
It really is so vulnerable, I’d probably behave myself if I knew my husband was there with me.
This is the first time in my blog-reading years that I have read a post that caused me to laugh so hard I had tears running down my face. I’ve only been under anesthesia once – to have my wisdom teeth removed in high school – and I had the same reaction as you’ve had in the past. I woke up mid-surgery, crying and thrashing about. I can still remember them having to subdue me a bit before switching me from the IV to the gas. Good times, indeed!
Thanks for sharing. It’s totally something that I can see happening to me. You made my morning. :)
Ha, you are so welcome!
About four years ago, I had my hip replaced. I was under heavy anesthesia for about five hours… I am told that as I was coming out of it, all I would do is cry and scream “OWIE! IT HURTS, IT HURTS” over and over. All I remember is the nurse yelling at me to be quiet. She yelled that I needed to stop screaming, so at least you were nice with your gestures and sign language, I just scream hehe.
Ha ha! I’m a polite druggie.
This is hilarious. I think the anesthesia really does do a weird number on our brains.
It’s far from my most embarrassing story, but one of the several times I went in for some sort of activity to be peformed via my girly parts, I tried — very hard — to score a job for my husband. He was a volunteer firefighter, thinking of a career as a paramedic, and I think I thought some medical experience would help that. And here I was, idly chatting (really — that’s how it was in my mind, at the time) with medical people in a medical place where there were bound to be all kinds of medical jobs. Right?
Only I think I wasn’t so very casual about it, because before I went completely under, I remember hearing someone tell another about it, and laughing.
Also, I wake up from anesthesia completely and utterly bereft, and absolutely have to have to good long cry right then and there. I have no idea what I’m sad about, but the waterworks are a-flowing.
That’s so funny! And you probably thought you were making perfect sense, right? I wonder how slurred and crazy you sounded. Too funny.
Aw, sad about the post-anesthetic sadness though! it’s just traumatic!
ROFL! :-) I agree with Tracy. This post is one for the ages.
Years ago, while employed at a medical center, I suffered a severe bladder infection. I tried and tried to recover without a doctor’s appointment, drinking quarts of cranberry juice and water. Finally, exhausted and with a fever, I gave in to seeking medical care. While I was meeting with the doctor he gently pointed out that I had a long piece of toilet paper stuck to the bottom of one of my shoes. I had trailed this lengthy piece of toilet paper while walking from my apartment to the car, then from my parking place in the employees’ lot to the shuttle bus, a seat in the bus, the clinic’s check-in desk, a chair in the waiting room, and the examining room. I was left wondering who among my neighbors and co-workers had seen me during this humiliating episode. Very embarrassing!
Oh goodness, that would probably happen to me with no good excuse! I’ll have to remember for when it does and claim that I have a terrible infection and high fever :o)
I know I should think this is really funny, but I just feel bad for you! Actually, I’m just annoyed the nurse wasn’t more understanding! I’m not sure why nurses try to speak rationally to people just coming out of anesthesia.
One of my kids had surgery when he was two. When he woke up he was crying and wailing and trying to pull out his iv. They wouldn’t let us be there when he first woke up, so I come in to find my little guy screaming and crying, and a nurse trying to rock and comfort him saying, “Don’t cry and don’t pull that out, it’ll hurt” over and over. I just thought, “He’s 2. He isn’t that rational anyway, and particularly not when he’s just been put under.” I also though, “You are a stranger! What good do you think this is going to do for him?” She was almost annoyed that he continued to cry and wasn’t listening.
Don’t they teach them what it’s like so they can be more understanding? It’s so patronizing to be treated like you (or you child) is acting crazy when you (they) are just under the influence of some really powerful medication.
You know, she might have been, I think I’d just worn out all her patience. I was grateful that she was kind when I finally woke up enough to realize I’d been super silly and wasn’t all, “You nut job!”
It’s true though, I’ve met lots of nurses I thought maybe ought to have chosen a profession in an assembly line somewhere rather than in the patient care arena. Also really weird how they wouldn’t just come get you to comfort your child :( Some hospital policies are so enraging… course that’s why I ended up having most of my babies at home! I didn’t want to fight the policies.
Haha, I’ve had a bad reaction to anestetic too. After having my 4 wisdom teeth out. Back up to the beginning, I asked the dr if I could be awake, as I didn’t want to go under all the way. He said sure, but must not have caught my urgency of REMEMBERING the procedure. They gave me twilight – sure I was awake, but didn’t remember anything other than them laughing at me when I said I felt drunk. All black after that.
When they woke me up, I FREAKED OUT. I was yelling, screaming at them, with chipmunk cheeks full of packing and cotton wool. I was crying hysterically and telling them how evil they were, and that I said I wanted to be awake. They told me I was awake during the whole thing, but since I couldn’t remember any of it, I just kept freaking out and calling them liars. They asked me to calm down repeatedly, telling me I was scaring the patients waiting, but being so paranoid I kept screaming and yelling at them, in hysterics, until they escorted me out the back way to wait for my sister to pick me up.
I was so paranoid I didn’t sleep for 3 days straight, and to this day I make sure I let any dr’s know about this, and about my fear of not remembering. ;)
When I had to go back for my check-up a week after surgery, I was a bit embarrassed, and they asked me to wait in the room at the very back of the office, instead of the normal waiting room. Imagine that… ;)
Aw, that is super scary though, isn’t it? Just having no memory of this huge chunk of time? I was so shocked when I found out my D&C took 5 hours… plus the time it took to wake up fully and stop acting crazy. It was like losing a whole day.
That’s super funny about the special waiting area though, maybe you have a sticker on your chart, ha ha!
I’ve had a few embarrassing moments with anesthesia. I cried and hummed off key during my first c-section, the entire time. After surgery on my neck I remember waking up right after the surgery and freaking out about my legs (they had put the compression things on). I kept yelling that there was something wrong with my legs but I had neck surgery!
The worst was after I had my wisdom teeth out. My dad took me and he says I went back for the surgery and after a while he hears someone crying and moaning. Then 2 people who went back for surgery after me come out and leave. He finally asks someone what’s taking so long and they bring him back to me where I cannot stop blubbering. I cried the whole way home and for about an hour afterwards.
Oh that reminds me of my husband! When he broke his face and had to have reconstructive surgery and plates put in, he was singing Primary songs at the top of his lungs as they put him out. He was so determined to stay conscious for some weird reason, and has no memory of being wheeled into the O.R. singing “Jesus wants me for a sunbeam” at high volume. The nurses were all standing in the hall and patients were poking their heads out of their rooms to see what all the fuss was about!
That crying thing is so sad! I wonder what triggers that, just the trauma maybe?
Seriously Jessica, I’m not sure I have one that tops that! But give me a second while I laugh! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Hee, did I not tell you this story after it happened? So embarrassing!
My post-anesthesia story isn’t all that grand–I’d had a cystoscopy and when I came to in the post-op area, I just launched into earnestly telling the closest nurse allllll about how it came to be that I was in the hospital having that cystoscopy (to be fair it is quite the story, but I digress) and thankfully she just nodded and smiled quite a bit and didn’t make me feel like the loon I’m sure I sounded like. Even better was the part in the middle of my ‘discussion’ where I started to feel very very nauseas and suddenly started telling the nurse ‘Uh Oh. Uh Oh. UH OH’ in a progressively more panicky tone until they gave me phengren to help.
Just to add that I had a friend in high school who had a deviated septum and had to have some really awful surgery to fix said deviated septum–she NEVER swears or says anything terrible along those lines. However, the recovery room nurses later told her (her mom was also an RN @ the same hospital, so she knew alot of the nurses already) that she came awake post-surgery just totally swearing a blue streak. Funny how the parts of our brains work :p.
Oh how funny! I think everyone who knew me would die of shock if I started swearing like a sailor, that is hilarious!
Oh my, I just laughed so hard I cried! Don’t feel embarrassed, that is one of the most hilarious stories ever. If you were that out of it, just be glad you didn’t do something much more embarrassing. I can not stop laughing.
I think I can laugh about it now, though if I ever run into Dr. L or any of his children I’ll probably duck and run the other way as fast as I can!
My most recent embarrassing moment was just 6 weeks ago. We blessed our baby that day in Sacrament Meeting and my husband got up to share his testimony. He told of the blessings we have experienced by adding #5 to our family, and how it has been different because the other kids are a little older. Then I just heard something jumbled about ‘(my name)’s body…” I look at him wide-eyed and slowly shook my head no. He backed up and said how the kids are more aware of her body and how it works. Oh-my-gosh-NO!. It sounded so awkward and I was really embarrassed. He assured me that no one will think of it, but I am certain that it came out really weird and we are already the weird homebirthers in the ward. My sisters poked fun at me that afternoon, but no one else mentioned it. I was sure they were just laughing to themselves in the privacy of their own homes that day.
Oh and see? I’d've just smiled and nodded because I think that’s a wonderful benefit to homebirth too! Lots of people won’t have even noticed. I’m always surprised that even after giving birth at home three times, there are loads of ladies in the ward who just can’t even process that and assume I’ve had them all in the hospital like a normal person. Hee hee.
Don’t burn this! I love this story! The fact that the nurse thought you were deaf and ordered an interpreter–slays me! I laugh whenever I think of this story because I always visualize you telling us about it with your arms up high, flailing and signing and shaking the imaginary bed rails.
I’m not sure about my MOST embarassing moment. Perhaps the time I broke the toilet at Wingers? There’s always the good old standby of farting in front of my seventh-grade crush. Maybe the time I put my arm around my fiance’s waist, hooked my thumb in his belt loop, layed my head on his shoulder and looked up at him adoringly, only to find the bewildered face of my future father-in-law. Horrible. I couldn’t even speak. My future BILs were rolling on the ground laughing. The worst part was that a little while later, I did the EXACT same thing at the BYU Museum of Art to a total stranger while not paying attention during the audio tour. The guy’s wife was shooting daggers at me with her eyes and all I could do was stutter an apology and find my new husband, who saw the whole thing. Who does that??
AMY. I need to hear all of those stories in person! My aunt, shortly after she married my uncle, came up behind my dad (her husband’s brother) and wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his back. HEE-LARIOUS. For us. Not for her. Ha ha ha!
I know it’s going to be a good day if I laugh so hard that hot tea comes shooting out my nose. Great story—and so…I don’t know…ironic? bizarre? tragi-hilarious? that it was so embarrassing to you to weird out the hospital staff, when they were the ones that gave you the anesthetic in the first place?? Sigh.
One time, after hand surgery, I woke up in the recovery room and tried to beckon the nurse closer. Like, just a little movement, the come-hither finger waggle. Except that I had no actual control over my limbs, and while my brain sent a small-motion finger signal, my whole arm responded with a fully-extended, rapid flail outward. Picture albatross wings. I thought, “That’s weird,” and tried again. Even bigger flail this time, and finally the nurse hurried over to restrain me from knocking over the IV stand and everything else. Either that, or she was running to hand me semaphore flags…because I think I could have landed a plane in that room. And of course, I was completely mortified, even though my rational brain chimed in that it wasn’t my fault. Sigh.
Ha ha! Sorry about the tea, I hope it didn’t hurt!
Laughed out loud over the semaphore flag reference. Our poor brain synapses, trying to communicate and failing wildly.
The timing on this is perfect. My 11 y.o. daughter had an endoscopy yesterday (tube down her throat) and they put her under. The doctor came out to talk to me and said they’d be out to get me soon. 25 minutes later!!! the nurse came and got me. They’d roused her, but she wasn’t coming round so they thought my voice might bring her out faster. I ended up employing every trick I knew to wake her. It was a little disarming seeing my little girl “drunk”. She will appreciate this story. Thank you for the uncontrolled laugh, full on howling, tears streaming down my face.
Aw, so hard to see! I hope everything went well and that my story cheers her up :o)
So I haven’t had this sort of reaction with general anesthesia, but when I got my wisdom teeth out they gave me nitrous oxide and I most definitely got the crazies. I am really afraid of dentists and tooth stuff in general, so I brought this contraption with me that helps me to relax (kind of like a biofeedback machine, it regulates your breathing), and I was going to show my dentist the machine since I figured he would be interested in it. I went back to the office and they gave me the nitrous, and then I remember hazy horrible awful dentist drilling and extracting stuff but I didn’t care so much because of the weird nitrous, and I was trying to use my breathing apparatus, and freaking out and hallucinating all these crazy things, and then all of a sudden it was over and I was out in the receptionist area, waiting for the rest of the nitrous to wear off.
Once most of it was gone, I was able to leave, but as I was getting ready to be escorted out to the taxi, I remembered that I hadn’t shown the dentist my machine yet. So I asked the receptionist if I could go back and show him, and she starts laughing, and the dental hygienist who just walked up starts to laugh, and then the billing person comes out of her office laughing her head off. Apparently, I had shown the dentist the machine when he first came in to start the extraction. And then again, and again, and again, and again… countless times, through the procedure, I was struggling to tell him about my fantastical, wonderful, amazing breathing apparatus. And the dentist, who is the nicest man on the planet, was very patient and said “Oh yes, I see, what an interesting machine!” Every. Single. Time. And then I came out, and showed the receptionist, and the billing person, and the dental hygienist, and other patients, over and over and over again. May I also add that this wondrous breathing apparatus looks kind of like a glorified cd player, except a teensy bit bigger? SO impressive!
Oh I laughed out loud! Isn’t that hilarious? Like our poor brains are all foggy and confused but we’re still focused to a crazed point on one little tiny thing that is SO! Important!