1) When I was 14 I went in for my one billionth set of (ear) drainage tubes. Being that I was 14 I was, of course, *super* cool and, after receiving whatever magical feel good elixir they put in the IV pre-op, I led the surgical team in a truly awful rendition of Pink Floyd’s Comfortably Numb (because HAR!) as they wheeled me to the OR.
That is my primary association with general anesthesia. Well, that and being about 5-ish and headed in for maybe my second set of tubes and being asked what flavor anesthesia I wanted and choosing bubblegum and then experiencing the end of my childhood as I inhaled the rubber-scented gas, thinking “those fuckers lied to me.” In more 5-ish year old vocabulary, albeit. Not that I’m still bitter or anything.
THERE ARE NO GODDAMN FLAVORS YOU INCREDIBLE ASSHATS!!! WHY ARE YOU EVEN IN PEDIATRICS IF YOU THINK KIDS ARE SO STUPID??!? UGH YOU’RE PROBABLY ALL RETIRED BY NOW BECAUSE IT WAS FOREVER AGO!
2) Getting the phone call that Karmann, who I’d dropped off in the morning for dental scaling with general, was ready for pick-up. This was basically my first solo experience with critter anesthesia–indeed my only anesthesia experience since being an ultra-cool 14 year old Floyd fan–so I insist I should be forgiven for enquiring as to whether she’d be up for the one mile walk back to my apartment. I was told to drive.
The critter that I picked up resembled my Karmann only tangentially. She was dopey, uncoordinated, sluggish, and clearly unhappy. And about an hour after we got home, the awful pooping started. Every half hour I had to run her outside for an emergency. Even though she quickly exhausted all intestinal contents, she continued to have cramps and dry heaves and every single half hour, all night, into the next morning, and well into the afternoon, we frantically ran outside so that she could do a futile poop dance and cry. And then I would bring her in and she would flop onto the floor and proceed to lie perfectly still for the next 29 minutes. I sincerely wondered if she was going to make it.
She apparently gets stress colitis, and we’ve gone through a variation on this routine each time she’s had to be sedated for a dental. Which is why, after the last one, I resolved to NEVER EVER DO ANESTHESIA AGAIN (save for emergencies–basically, no dental. Superficial cleaning only. And good maintenance.)
So when I took her to the vet this afternoon, I went from:
Oh my god my freaking puppy has freaking pink eye! WORST DAY EVER!!!
*blink, blink, blink* *human stomach cramps*
When the vet said that no, not pink eye. Benign, pre-existing eyelid cyst is growing in toward her eyeball and irritating the crap out of it and it has to be surgically removed and hey, since she’ll be under, why don’t we also do a dental and make sure you’re totally broke and also covered in liquipoo–is Wednesday good for you?
So much pro-biotic and eye ointment and wine in my immediate future.