As I was strapped down the OR table I told myself that I would test how strong I am in resisting the powers of general anesthesia. Come to think of it, I wasn’t even strapped, but it feels good and kinky thinking of myself being strapped. As the GA mask was landing on my face I willed myself never to sleep. I rested my eyes for one second, opened it after another second, and heard someone say, “Tapos na po.”
I was wheeled to the recovery room even as I was histrionically moaning and groaning in pain. To call the nurse’s attention that I was in horrible pain I whined louder–in severe stress my whines can penetrate the time-space continuum. Some nurse went to me after a few minutes and told me sternly, “Huminga ka lang ng malalim!”, and resumed chatting with the other nurses about some new soap opera. I apologize now to all the patients whose pain I didn’t give sufficient attention to. I’m so sorry, I was wrong, hu-hu-hu.
As I was recuperating in my hospital gown who should come in but batchmates JD-Lu, Dondee, HIV, Hurricane Katrina, Graciepoopieloop, BL, and Ruter, all of whom were regular characters in this blog. After saying goodbye to my parents my mother gushed in her old woman of the barrio manner, “Grabe ang pogi ng mga doktor sa PGH, and pogi talaga nila!” Dad could only muster, “Pogi talaga. Ang ayos ng buhok. Plantsado ang damit. Naka tuck-in. Ang linis tignan. Bakit di mo sila gayahin?”
The only appropriate response to this was one audible “Harrumph!”
With the cause of the pain gone you can now sigh in relief that my melodramatic, self-important, highly-dramatized blog entries about self-injecting with pain meds are over. It was the reason why I’ve decided to go through with the procedure anyway, having spent an entire day sleeping in the call room from overdose of pain meds a few days before the OR. And now that I have disgusting, gaping holes forever leaking suppurative bile on my tummy–I know, I can never be a porn star. Unless there’s someone out there with fetish for that sort of thing.