So here I was.
At the OT Dispatch Area, where I was waiting for my turn in the stretcher. (OT – Operation Theatre)
The area looked clinical, scrubbed, smelt of various medicines/tonics/insulin (now that I know how Insulin smells like) and Dettol.
The Anesthetist came in and told the nurses to take me in.
The Operation Theatre looked scarier than Emily Rose’s Exorcism. They should have doped me before getting in here! Damn!
Before I could think of creating a drama and jump off the stretcher, my doctor came and read my mind.
“Thinking of running away.” and gestured the Anesthetist. Her words ‘calm down, don’t worry . Everything will be okay, faded as if in dreams.’
I wanted to tell her this:
“Since you are drilling my abdomen, can you please get a liposuction machine and pump out some fat as well.”
But no((( didn’t get a chance for that.
And then, when I woke up after three hours, I was in a different place that smelt just the same, and looked less scary. Husband was sitting intently staring at me, waiting for me to open my eyes.
He looked relieved and asked the nurse, when I would be taken to the room. I guessed he wanted to know when he could get away from that place.
I could see the legs, but couldnt feel it. Epidural…
But slowly, everything returned to normal.