We were on our way to my Scoliosis surgery. Me and my parents had been putting this surgery off since I was eight. I had been scared ever since I heard that my MD camp counselor died on the operating table because his heart gave out.

I made sure to take a full physical, with emphasis on my heart, before the surgery. Everything checked out. I was as healthy as I could be (except for the whole can't walk thing, of course). Still, that did little to squelch my fears.

"Twenty-twenty-twenty four hours to go, I wanna be sedated, Nothin' to do and no where to go-o-oh I wanna be sedated." Rodrigo sang to me in his best Joey Ramone voice. I snapped out of my trance and cracked a slight smile as a single tear slipped into my mouth. He had flown in from Mexico so he could be with me during the surgery. Then he stayed up with me until 4am playing Call of Duty, only to wake up at 6am to leave for the hospital.

"Twenty-twenty-twenty four hours to go....Just put me in a wheelchair, get me on a plane, Hurry hurry hurry before I go insane." He danced wildly in the backseat.

"You look like you're having a seizure," I said with a slight chuckle and between tears.

"We're here," my mom announced.

I looked out the window and there it was. So many horrible memories, and yet, I probably wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for this place. I hate it something fierce, but I need it. I need it like I need nurses. You don't want 'em, but they make your life not only easier, but possible.

It was 6am and a thick fog shrouded the hospital, making everything seem more ominous. I went as slow as I could, fearing that with every forward turn of my wheel I was inching closer and closer to my death.

"Hey guys! Sorry I'm late," screamed a high pitched voice out of the fog. It was my sister. She kissed me on the cheek and tried to make light conversation. I ignored it mostly. Everything seemed inconsequential. Would the Padres ever start hitting? Was Jay Cutler the Broncos' savior? What would I do with my life? None of it mattered. We all went inside and got on the elevator.

"Where's dad?" I asked my mom

"He's on his way. He's stuck in traffic"

"Is he gonna make it before I go in?"

"I'm sure he will," she reassured me. "Now, go to the waiting room while I get you checked in."

The waiting room was full of little kids in hospital gowns. They don't do much, just sit there. They wonder why they're in the hospital so much. Why it happened to them. Why they can't be playing with their friends. That thinking won't change much as they get older.

No more than five minutes later my mom came back.

"Come on, they want you in the prep room."

"Wow. So quick? Are you sure?" I didn't want to go yet. I wasn't ready. Dad wasn't here yet.

"Yeah, yeah come on."

I rolled forward with my entourage trailing behind me. The prep room was cold. It had marble floors and a litter of beds evenly spaced out. Each one with their own curtain for the patient's supposed privacy. Although, I don't think it's very private when you can the nurse exclaim, "My, what a big poopoo you made!" to Timmy the 12-year-old 'tard across the room.

"We need you to change into this gown." The nurse said as she popped into my "room." She took my temperature and blood pressure as she asked my mom all the standard questions. Any allergies? Any problems with anesthesia? Anything you would like me to tell the surgeon?

"Yes," I piped in.

She turned to look at me, surprised that I actually had a fully functional brain. "Yes, hun?"

"When I'm in there, I don't want everyone to ignore me. I have a very good idea of what's going on with my body. And I always know when something's wrong, so don't just dismiss me when I say something." I always ask this before every surgery. I don't feel comfortable with people I don't know taking care of me, even if they are doctors and nurses. My request is almost always ignored, but asking slightly relieves my anxiety.

"Okay, hun," she said cheerfully, "Two nurses will be right out to take you into the OR."

My face went pale as the realization that this really was happening hit me. They were going to open my back and put titanium rods up my spine. There was going to be a very sharp knife inches away from all my major nerves. My eyes started welling up.

"I c-c-changed my mind. I don't wanna do this. Let's just go home." I said in between sobs.

"You know we can't do that, baby," my sister told me, "Even if we could, we can't put this off forever."

"Yeah, dude. Let's just get this over with. It'll be fine, I promise," Rodrigo said.

"Where's dad?" I asked, still crying.

Just then, he came in red and out of breath. "Hey, sorry I'm late. How you doin' champ?" He ruffled my hair. I looked at him, begging him to take me home with my eyes. "It'll be fine," he said, reassuringly.

At that moment two nurses came in. "Ready, hun?"

Everyone kissed me goodbye as the nurses took me away. They pushed me through double-doors into poorly lit corridor with no windows. They yapped between themselves about some unimportant shit while I silently sobbed into the hospital gown.

Twenty-twenty-twenty four hours to go, I wanna be sedated, Nothin' to do and no where to go-o-oh I wanna be sedated.

"Hi, Raul. I'll be operating on you today." A tall guy with goggles and a mask told me.

"Let's get him up on the table."

The table was hard, cold and uncomfortable. It hurt my back.

"All right, we're starting the anesth..." was the last thing I heard before slipping into unconsciousness.

To Be Continued...

Posted by HotWheelz at 5:16 PM

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Posted by: Sicnevol at June 29, 2008 03:36 PM

Posted by: Sicenvol at June 29, 2008 05:16 PM

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