With most surgical procedures, even minor ones like mine, there is a void afterward, a gap in your memory. One moment you’re on a gurney with an IV in your arm. The next someone says, “We’re starting the sedation now,” and you’re invited to count down from one hundred. Few get below 95.
Then comes the void – an indeterminate period of time. Long, short, who can tell? The surgeon tinkers on you. But at some point the void passes. You become aware, only vaguely, that it’s over, that you are creeping back; that you have more or less reached a semi-conscious dream state.
The dream state fades, though, and the next post-op phase begins. It involves gradually, groggily, becoming semi-alert. I realized I was gradually, groggily, becoming semi-alert. My brain beckoned. This made me think of the Mose Allison song, “My Brain.”
Before long a nurse named Bonnie came into my curtained off area. “How are we doing?”
This groggy, semi-alert phase includes a near-total lack of judgment and inhibition. “Listen to this,” I slurred. “I’m going to sing you part of a song.”
My brain is always workin, my brain.
My brain is always workin, my brain.
My brain is always workin – long as you keep that coffee perkin
My brain, cool little cluster that’s my brain.
Bonnie clapped lightly and laughed. “How nice! I’ve never had a patient sing to me before. Do you want coffee?”
I didn’t, so she offered me apple juice and applesauce. These I accepted, in spite of the stitches in my mouth. Powerful anesthetic residue coursed within me but mental clarity crept closer. An hour or so later I was discharged.
Mose Allison – My Brain
