Reflection 11: 7:20 a.m. The silent march

We found ourselves lined up in a queue of gurneys, one behind the other, silently facing an open double-doorway. What seemed like a moment or two later our queue began to slowly move toward and through the doorway, as if in a kind of slow-motion dream march. Six or seven gurneys in all. Each supporting an inpatient with a story to tell. Nobody spoke.


We disappeared into a hallway. Doors were open on both the right and the left. There was a large white sign with a black number sticking out from the wall above the door. Number 1…2…3 and so on. I do remember being told in pre-op that there were 9 operating rooms because I asked.

At our assigned number that I cannot recall, we turned left into the operating room.

***

Once inside of the operating room, the health care workers took no time to move me from the gurney to the operating table (by design). Did I experience fear? No. Apprehension? A little. Relief is the best descriptive word. I was simply relieved that we were finally moving forward in our fight with head and shoulder cancer.

My drug doctor put the mask over my mouth and nose. 

Then absolute blackness with no sense of time...or anything. 



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