I wasn’t nervous about the minor surgery on my right hand until I was lying on a gurney in the operating room. I looked at the bright lights on the ceiling and then glanced around the room to watch the doctors and nurses bustle about me. In my left arm, an I.V. was dripping its solution. Someone strapped down my torso. Another person stretched my right arm out on an extended support and strapped it down too. Everyone seemed busy and efficient, but I still felt jittery.
I heard a nurse say, “We’re going to put on a tourniquet,” and feeling even more unsettled, I shut my eyes to regroup. After a moment, I opened my eyes, planning to ask the anesthesiologist when he would start putting me to sleep (or under deep sedation, to be more accurate).
However, instead of seeing him, I saw the face of an unfamiliar nurse coming toward me, and she said, “You’re in the recovery room. The surgery went smoothly.” Indeed, my hand was bandaged and my body was free from restraint. I was tremendously relieved and also amused that I was unaware that I’d already undergone the operation. It was the easiest experience in a hospital that I’ve had.
I’m glad to report that the surgery was six months ago, and my hand is perfectly fine now. I had no need to worry at all.