Hospital stories... Part 1. Preparation for surgery

Part 1. Preparation for surgery

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I didn't have to be alone for long. Soon in the room there was a doctor - surgeon on duty, a young man, frowning either in life, or from lack of sleep.

• Well, tell me, what happened to you? When did the seizure start? - began he the conversation in a stern voice.

"Last night, about seven o'clock," I said timidly.

And that you have waited until the morning? You understand that this is very dangerous as much time to suffer from severe pain? Possible that you've already had tissue necrosis and I'll have to remove some of your bowels?

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Reprimanded me, the doctor gave the order to the nurse of reception to issue me the medical record in a hospital.

She called the nurse from surgery and soon I was taken by the Elevator to the third floor straight to the ward.

A few minutes later, a son appeared in the room, to whom I dictated a list of things that he had to bring to the hospital.

Before he could leave, a Department surgeon appeared in front of me. After examining me, he asked what sores I have at the moment, and then asked a purely rhetorical question:

• Do you agree to the surgery?

Despite the seriousness of the situation, I could not resist not to laugh:

• Do I have a choice?

The doctor spun around silently and exited.

Then, with the help of a nurse and a nurse, I made another journey through the deserted corridors of the hospital.

This time I was lowered to the second floor and made a "photo" of my lungs for memory, and then I was back in the room.

Soon an anesthesiologist came to me. Like the surgeon, she asked questions about my health, and then said that after the operation I will be placed in intensive care, where I can sleep as much as I want.

Then again, a strange question sounded:

• Do you agree to General anesthesia?

To which I replied:

• Do I have a choice?

The situation was repeated one to one. The doctor also silently left the room.

But it immediately appeared several people who began to put me catheters, put the tube in the nose and throat. Mostly acted in silence, only shouting at me, so I, as quickly as possible, swallowed foreign objects.

And only after all these tubes entangled me, I was offered to call relatives that they arrived behind my things.
I guess I looked pretty comical trying to make a cell phone call... My son did not immediately understand what was required of him. After all this time he was busy, the exact opposite of what I asked for.

While I was talking to him, a wheelchair appeared in the room, which took me to the operating room. Already lying on it, I thought: "What am I doing? I need it???"

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To be continued...