Hospital Risks
I have undergone three minor surgeries that required general anesthesia; repairs on each knee to repair tears on the meniscus and one surgery to straighten a deviated septum. Prior to each surgery, medical personnel reviewed the risks of surgery and the relatively minor but consequentially significant risk of death because of anesthesia. Fortunately, like most patients, I have awakened from each journey going under.
After my first knee surgery I agreed to participate in a pain medication study. Seriously, in order to control for the effect that family and loved one can have on pain management, following my procedure, I was placed into an ambulance and taken to an undisclosed location. At some point, they called my wife and gave her an address where she could come and pick me up. My only memory of that event before finally coming to in the testing recovery center is a cloudy memory of being placed into an ambulance, or maybe a van. But I really think I was lying down. I'm not actually sure.
Over the years, I became comfortable with the idea of anesthesia and readily signed the consent for the procedure even understanding that risks exist. I just don't think it's very likely. The very first time I went under I was 17 years old. As I was lying on my back I realized what they meant be a sterile environment. It seemed that everything that wasn't white was stainless steel. I remember the doctor inviting me to count backwards from ten. I started, "10, 9, 8" and then I paused and said, "Are there supposed to be two lights, now?" The doctor chuckled and had me continue counting down. I then noticed that there were 4 lights, then 8. That was all I remember from the operating room.
The next thing I remember was an excruciating pain emanating from my nose. It felt like my face had a second nose that was trying to escape out of my nostrils. The force and pressure were excruciating. I incessantly reached for my nose incoherently believing that if I just ripped the noses off my face I would find relief. One nurse in the recovery kept grabbing my hands keeping me from grabbing my nose.
I'm sure she was kind. But at that moment all I wanted was to grab my nose in an attempt to relieve this pain that I thought would never end and that nurse was standing in the way of that relief. I simultaneously knew what I had to do and understood that it was wrong. I cried out, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry" and I threw a right hook that landed smack on her face. I heard some crashing and the next thing I knew my hands were tied down to the bed.
I don't know who she was but I'm glad that I had the chance to apologize. Now, when I go for surgery, I bring my own assumption of risk contract for the hospital to sign.
After my first knee surgery I agreed to participate in a pain medication study. Seriously, in order to control for the effect that family and loved one can have on pain management, following my procedure, I was placed into an ambulance and taken to an undisclosed location. At some point, they called my wife and gave her an address where she could come and pick me up. My only memory of that event before finally coming to in the testing recovery center is a cloudy memory of being placed into an ambulance, or maybe a van. But I really think I was lying down. I'm not actually sure.
Over the years, I became comfortable with the idea of anesthesia and readily signed the consent for the procedure even understanding that risks exist. I just don't think it's very likely. The very first time I went under I was 17 years old. As I was lying on my back I realized what they meant be a sterile environment. It seemed that everything that wasn't white was stainless steel. I remember the doctor inviting me to count backwards from ten. I started, "10, 9, 8" and then I paused and said, "Are there supposed to be two lights, now?" The doctor chuckled and had me continue counting down. I then noticed that there were 4 lights, then 8. That was all I remember from the operating room.
The next thing I remember was an excruciating pain emanating from my nose. It felt like my face had a second nose that was trying to escape out of my nostrils. The force and pressure were excruciating. I incessantly reached for my nose incoherently believing that if I just ripped the noses off my face I would find relief. One nurse in the recovery kept grabbing my hands keeping me from grabbing my nose.
I'm sure she was kind. But at that moment all I wanted was to grab my nose in an attempt to relieve this pain that I thought would never end and that nurse was standing in the way of that relief. I simultaneously knew what I had to do and understood that it was wrong. I cried out, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry" and I threw a right hook that landed smack on her face. I heard some crashing and the next thing I knew my hands were tied down to the bed.
I don't know who she was but I'm glad that I had the chance to apologize. Now, when I go for surgery, I bring my own assumption of risk contract for the hospital to sign.
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