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Sooo, I am somewhat Hospital-phobic. Probably has something to do with all the negative hospital experiences my family has had in the last 5+ years. If I hated hospitals before, I hate them so much more today.

For those that don’t know, I am diagnosed with Fuchs Heterochromic Iridociclytus. It is a congenital eye disease and it is the reason I have 2 different color eyes. It’s somewhat rare and it causes complications with vision at varying degrees for different people. The change in eye color occurs because the iris is being destroyed and that causes clutter in the eye. Most of the issues revolve around retinal swelling which causes blurriness in vision. It also makes the person more susceptible to glaucoma and cataracts. But I digress…

Well at the Ripe Old Age of 31 years old I developed a cataract in my right. Actually I have had it for a couple of years but it’s gotten to the point where I really could no longer see out of my right eye. My vision was 20/50 with glasses, 20/100 without, and that’s not good. So my doctor advised that I was going to have to have lens replacement surgery and have an intraocular lens implant.

For weeks before the surgery I kept having nightmares where I either die or worse, wake up during surgery. I guess I’ve watched one too many of those Extra specials where people wake up during the procedure and can feel but can’t move. And of course in the dream my eyeball is sitting on the table looking at me, but regardless of how ludicrous it still did not help my anxiety levels. The only comforting thing was it was going to be an outpatient procedure.

The surgery was January 3^rd. So I had to have my iris measured the week before so that they could order the implant. The day before my surgery they called me and told me that I needed to be at the surgery center at 8:30 in the morning instead of 9:30 or else they would have to reschedule for another week. Well I already took the time off so of course no problem. Then they called me again and said that I had to come to the office that morning first because they needed to re-measure my eye for some reason and that as long as I got the eye doctor and then the surgery center by 9:30 I’ll “be fine.” Anxiety Up… So I get my eye re-measured and then make it to the surgery center before 9:30, and it’s at the Christus Santa Rosa HOSPITAL!!! Anxiety Up… Then they had me sit in the waiting room till nearly 11… More Anxiety still. Then they had me go in the back and they say, “put this hospital gown on,” and I say “wait a minute this is an out-patient procedure.” And they say you need a gown and I say “Ain’t no way in hell I am putting on a hospital gown, people die in hospital gowns, someone probably died in that gown, I’m not putting on, I’m not even touching it!” The nurse says “you can’t go to the back without being in a gown.” And so I said, take care have a nice day, put my coat on and start to walk out. The head nurse is called, the doctor is talked too, I go back fully dressed, Fuck the System.

Well they wheel me on a hospital bed; after dilating my eye and putting in an IV; into an Operating Room. They strap me down to the gurney!!! ANXIETY ANYONE!!! They called it “gentle reminders,” they said since I was going to be “napping” they would “keep me from patting the doctor on the head.” And then they left me laying there, for over 20 minutes, staring at the ceiling, the big light and the equipment. Somewhere in that 20 minutes someone walked into the room and was talking to the nurse and at some point goes, “Wait, this is an implant?” I’m laying there, strapped to the bed going, “Holy shit, I’m in the wrong O.R.” Then after 20 minutes this Oriental guy walks in and says Hi, I’m your Dr and I going to give you something to make you feel better. Now my Doctor is a tall Caucasian Brazilian so I am like “Holy Fuck, I’m in the wrong O.R.” Then he says “you’re going to be awake during the surgery but you’re going to feel drunk.” WHAT?!?! I look over at the nurse and I say, “Who the hell is he?” and she says “He’s the Anesthesiologist.” So I go, “What do you mean awake? I don’t want to be awake, I don’t want remember anything.” OK, now I’m Fucking Freaking out. He says, “Maybe you remember something.” (use Asian accent here.) I say, “NO, I don’t want to remember anything, I don’t want to be awake and I don’t want to remember anything. He says, “OK, maybe you no remember nothing then.” Great! I’m in fear for my life and he’s making jokes. Then he says, and I shit you not, “Besides, it would be overkill and it take too long in recovery room.” Great, soooo you want me to stay awake so you could make room for your next victim.” I’m like, “NO WAY NO HOW I’M OUTTA HERE!” and apparently he got tired of arguing with me cause I feel something cool go into my arm and lights out, fade to black.”

Good deal you say right! Wrong! All of a sudden I wake up to the pain of a bar being clamped across the top of my eyeball. I couldn’t actually see detail because I guess my eye was now completely dilated, or filleted open, I don’t know. All I knew, was I was up, I was Lucid, and I could feel. Oh my God, my nightmare came true… sans the eyeball on the table thing of course. And that’s all I could keep saying, “Oh God, Oh God, Oh God…” Then they clamp a bar horizontally across the bottom of my eyeball followed by a bar across the middle of my eyeball vertically, painfully pressing against my eyeball. Oh God, Oh God, Oh God… Finally my doctor says, “Oh God what?” The tone was kind of annoyed actually and I guess he was figuring I was just talking in my sleep or something because he sounded a little surprised when I said “it hurts.” “What hurts?” he asked. “The upper left” was all I could say. The upper bar was adjusted and then I was stabbed in the eyeball with something. Back to the, “Oh God, Oh God, Oh God” mantra. And at this point I decide in my half groggy, pain infused fired up brain that I was out of here. My arms were strapped down, but not my legs so I was kicking away like an Olympic swimmer. Then the doctor says, “Don’t move,” and I’m thinking, “fuck you, I said I’m out of here.” Then he says, “Oh Damn” yells “Don’t Move!” and I’m like what the heck does that mean as I feel something stab me in the eye again. A few seconds later it was fade to black again.

I woke up in recovery having a humongous panic attack and totally freaking out. They bring the Anesthesiologist out to talk to me because I was so upset. My mother is there and she’s like, “If he says he doesn’t want to be awake who are you to decide to do otherwise.” The pompous ass says, “I’m the anesthesiologist, I know what’s best, who are you?” Wrong answer… My mother says, “I’m his mother!!!” She almost punched him in the face, I could see it coming. I told him to get the lost, got my jacket and left.”

I will NEVER EVER EVER EVER AGAIN HAVE AN ELECTIVE PROCEDURE AGAIN!!!