THE NARRATIVE ARC
I Shouldn’t Need an Anesthesiologist To Calm Down
When deep breaths aren’t enough I use these coping strategies
“Where would you like to go?” the anesthesiologist asks.
I turn, knowing my raised eyebrows are a dead giveaway that I’m perplexed by the question. Glancing toward the anesthesiologist’s hands, I see he’s holding a syringe, ready to plunge a cocktail of drugs through my IV. He tilts his head, grinning widely, waiting for my answer. “What do you mean,” I respond.
“You’re about to take a trip,” he says, “Where would you like to go?” At this, I smile back and tell him I’d like to go somewhere warm, like Turks and Caicos. “Enjoy the beach,” he says as his thumb pushes the chemicals into the clear tube.
I wait for darkness to descend.
This may seem like a strange thing to say, but I love going under anesthesia. I relish those precious seconds between the plunge of the syringe and the darkness because I know that for however long the darkness lasts, it will free me from worry and responsibility.
During those few moments before the drugs overtake me, I fight to keep my eyes open because I crave the release I feel. Knowing I will soon be in a dream state, my brain unable to obsess about…
