I'm lying on my back, my left arm tucked beneath my head, and I'm dressed in green pajamas and an athletic shirt.
Nurse, we're out of anesthesia!
My eyes wander down the surgical room, coming across a beautiful face framed by black wavy hair; deep down, I know the doctor is mocking me, that there is anesthesia. Unfortunately for me, I will have to listen to the doctor's sweet revenge for my recent statement, "your profession is one of my least favorite."
I feel the prick of a needle, and I am flooded with thoughts about how this is the first time, and I know nothing except that everything will be fine, that it is just a small capsule beneath the skin's surface, and that it will be carried away as if by hand. Although I am aware that something cold is touching my skin and cutting me, I don't feel any pain. Instead, I'm following the reflections of movements and lights on the wall.
Why is there not total anesthesia, why do I have to hear everything they say, that the hole is too deep, when some instrument is flapping under my skin? I can feel pressure, not pain, but the intensity of something being torn away from me. I'm taking a deep sigh and wait for the magic phrase, "We're done." But no, the agony continues, the swelling increases, I feel pressure on my skin, I hear scissors snipped, I feel the cold touch of wet cloth on my left leg, straps are tightened.
I ask the nurse, can I stare at you? You are beautiful.
She then lifted me from the table and led me to the room where I'd spend the next 30 minutes.
I sat there, pleased with myself for being able to control my anxiety, because I have had very bad experiences with doctors in all aspects of my life since childhood, and it is still difficult for me to trust someone for treatment today. I was also confronted with various scenes and injuries, which added to my fear, but I have never had a surgery, officially my first one.
I walked straight from the hospital to my car in my slippers and pajamas, it was pouring outside, and for the last few days I've been moving from bed to bed, from forest to forest, mostly hanging out with nature.
Day after I saw the stitches for the first time, they are blue, tied up hard entwined in the flesh. Somehow disturbing view.
We spent the day before the procedure in the area where I was born, as a kind of mental rehabilitation, chasing birds and butterflies, breathing the fresh air, keeping my mind away from the upsetting thoughts.
I took a long stroll through a village I hadn't been to in a long time, and I was still familiar with every corner.
The good news is, I'm moving again!
Even though my subconscious won't let me sleep at night any longer, cause I constantly worry that I'll damage the threads, I'm using all the time to spin different what do in life ideas.
There are some good ones.
But right now, after all the previous ones that I neglected and treated on my feet, all I want is for the first time to heal properly. We have returned home and are still spending time in nature. I make good use of all the perks to prevent having to move my ass.
...and I sleep tucked in the pillows, like a baby.
On the way back home.