As of last weekend, I can describe myself as someone who has been under anaesthetic. I had all four wisdom teeth out, an operation I was assured was as routine and relatively painless as a haircut (with a superior excuse for avoiding conversation.) And although I’ve been plagued with pretty much every imaginable side-effect since the day of the operation – including, if you’re interested, being sick through my nose yesterday – the actual anaesthetic part was genuinely blissful and something I really think everyone should have a ‘go at’ before they cork it.
It was all very strange. I was ravenously hungry, having fasted for 18 hours before I went in, so everything was a bit hazy and out of focus already. I followed the nurses into a room, where I was asked to lie on a tiny trolley-bed. The anesthetist was jolly, trying to put me at my ease without realising I was already feeling quite relaxed about it all and that, in fact, her efforts to calm me were in danger of making me feel more anxious. There was a sudden, painful jab in the back of my hand as the drip went in, and someone held a plastic mask over my face. “We’re just giving you some oxygen”. OK… why? And “You might feel a cold liquid creeping up your arm” – I did. It was horrible. “You’ll probably be asleep within a minute”.
The next thing I knew, I was awake, laughing. I’d been dreaming amazing, vivid dreams. I felt wonderfully rested, but wonderfully sleepy – and no pain. I realised my mouth was full of swabs, but I was trying to talk, I’m not sure who to. I didn’t really know where I was. The nurses said I’d been ‘a wiggly worm’ in the operation, and when I was taken back to the ward I was shivering, violently. They brought me another blanket. “I want to go back under” I said. It was the best sleep I’d had in years. For the rest of the day I walked around, slightly unsteadily, living in a foggy happy land where nothing could phase me. I slept a lot, but nothing came close to that wonderful sleep of unconsciousness.
The next day I decided I needed to be able to think properly again, and against hospital advice, stopped taking the immensely powerful pain-killers. Within 12 hours I had the migraine of my life. I’ve stopped being sick now and my mouth has almost stopped bleeding, so hey, things are looking up. If you get the chance to experience this amazing responsibility-abdicating switching-off of consciousness, I strongly recommend it. Just know that regular sleep will never be quite good enough ever again.
