I finally did it, paid my deposit to the future bank :)

When I arrived the clinic at 6:30 am, the nurse took my vitals. The BP looked something like 88/55, and she had to retake it because it seemed so low. But at the end, we concluded that it was likely because I just got up without eating or drinking anything.

The prep room was quiet and a bit cold, especially after taking a cocktail of drugs that were supposed to calm me down. Completely butt naked sitting in the robe, I felt myself sinking deeper, drifting, piece by piece. Then a light switch flipped, my whole vision went dark.

When I opened my eyes again, I was met with these mesmerizing blue eyes - the surgeon came to say hi before the procedure, but I couldn’t make out anything she said. Another nurse came to confirm my identity. Which was way harder than I anticipated - I couldn’t focus enough to mutter my own name or birthday. “20…20…” I kept repeating, although my birthday starts with “19”.

Then the nurse took me to the washroom one last time before going into the OR. I felt dizzy and not in control of my own feet. I laughed. I tried to move the IV pole to the left but it kept going right. I laughed. With the laugh came the tears, then it became just the tears. I almost felt sad but not sure why.

The nurse asked tenderly, “Feeling emotional?”

I nodded.

The OR was a whole another planet. Dark, cold, serious, clinical, very much Grey’s Anatomy. I saw the staff all looking at me, like they had been waiting for this moment.

The second I touched the table, my whole body started shaking uncontrollably, almost like a seizure. I asked the doctor how I could stop, she said it was totally normal with the nerves and cold. Then a piece of warm and comforting blanket was draped over me.

I closed my eyes, trying to focus on this inner storm that came out of nowhere. My shaky right shoulder kept banging on the OR table. I couldn’t hear any other sounds. I felt pressure and pinching in my lower abdomen. Then out of nowhere, the shaking stopped. I was alone.

The procedure was quick. The nurse woke me gently and said, “All done. Let’s get you back.”

I was wheeled back to the prep room, onto the bed, closed my eyes for a minute.

According to the friend who picked me up, I was speaking gibberish. He knew it was English, but none of the words made any sense. I fell asleep instantly when I got in the car, then straight to bed for another uninterrupted deep sleep for 4 hours.

Now finally sobering up in the evening, I sense lightness. The glimpse of hope I clung on to before the procedure, the beautiful wishes I whispered to my body, the repeating loops in my head. They’re all replaced with the stillness of the kitty, quietly observing me from behind the railing on the stairs.

Tomorrow is going to be another day.