Today I wake up at 7, like I usually do on weekends. Then again. there's no need for me to go to school today, so I roll over, prop up my fractured wrist from the awkward position I woke up in, and go to sleep again.
It's 9 when I next check the time. Anticipation for today's surgery and the hunger gnawing away at me as a result of the required pre-surgery fast ensure I don't go back to sleep. Grudgingly, I get out of bed, walk the two steps to my permanently-on laptop and check a few things online before replying the sms-es that contributed slightly to my waking up.
A tedious 20 minutes I spend in the bathroom trying to ensure I lather all the parts of the body I can reach, before drying myself clumsily and putting on a loose shirt and a pair of jeans. It's 11 and I'm not allowed to even take a sip of water, so with a parched throat I set out for NUH.
7 minutes and 800 steps later I find myself at Clementi MRT, cursing my luck as the train to Pasir Ris rumbles off in the distance. I sit down for a 6 minute wait, and am shortly joined by my mother and sister, whom have just arrived from the clinic on account of my sister's fever.
It is nearly 12 when I report to the appointed place. The nurse there takes my weight (I cringe slightly as the red digits stop changing), makes me change into the clothing they provide (a disposable underwear, trousers which must be TIED, some kind of jacket like thing worn from the front but TIED around the back and finally a kimono) before providing me with a locker and telling me to wait until 1.40. I burn the first 30 minutes on my handphone playing GameBoy games while wondering why they designed the clothing to be so tortuous to wear, before putting my handphone into the locker and settling for the numerous magazines and newspapers provided.
The time passes slowly until finally a nurse comes and put me in a wheelchair before asking me a series of questions which at least 5 more people would ask me in the hour to follow (how old are you? when was your last meal taken? do you have any drug allergies... etc). I fiddle around on the wheelchair and discover I can only make it turn in counter-clockwise circles with my hands because I cant turn the left wheel -_-.
Satisfied with my answers the nurse wheels me out of Kent Ridge wing 2 and into the main NUH building, where I spend about 15 minutes outside the operation area waiting and getting asked the same set of questions a few more times by a few different people... finally the time comes to get wheeled into the operating theater.
The first impression I got was that it looks exactly like it does in photos... no surprise there. One of the surgeons comments: "Looks like a scene out of Star Trek eh". I consider putting on a cynical smile but he's about to knock me out and screw me so I decide not to. I get into the bed and lie back.
The kimono I wore is removed, and I'm left virtually topless in the operating theater. Another surgeon complains of the heat, and jokes: "Why so hot arh? Childbirth arh?" I force a smile as I shiver slightly from a mixture of cold and apprehension.
A nurse props up my right arm against a support of sorts before swabbing my hand and inserting a needle into the back of my right hand. My leg muscles tense slightly as I try not to wince from the pain as the needle gets wriggled about while she attaches the IV drip (or whatever it's called) to it.
My vitals are monitored by some sort of device attached to my bare chest by four small round pads, with my blood oxygen level being measured by some device which sends infrared rays through my right index finger. One of the surgeon notes my pulse and comments: "Wa quite fit arh, 55 bpm only. I was like that once also." I hear a peal of giggles around me and try to look at the surgeon who made that comment but my head is pushed down by a nurse who instructs me to breathe through the mask she's carrying. I am told to take another deep breath, which is the last thing I remember doing before the operating theater disappears.
The next moment I am aware I am extremely drowsy, barely able to make any sound or movement. Someone notices I am awake and I am barely conscious of being wheeled back to the wing where I spent an hour or so waiting. Aware of a constant nauseous feeling, I am unable to do anything about it. I fall back into slumber right after managing to catch a glimpse of the time. It is already past 5.
By the time I am fully conscious, it is already past 6. I observe my body. My throat is hurting, presumably due to the breathing tube they insert to ensure I don't suffocate while under the effect of general anesthesia. My left hand is numb and in a different cast, while at the same time throbbing and hurting. Local anesthesia is probably still in effect for my left hand, and the IV drip remains connected to my right. I drift back into unconsciousness.
An hour later I am provided with a warm cup of Milo and some biscuits. A nurse gives me my medicine, painkillers to assuage the pain and antibiotics in case of an infection. I doze off until 8, where a doctor comes in and roughly covers the events that transpired during my operation. I am now free to go.
