Hey Doc, Where’s the Laughing Gas?
The final chapter of the molar broke by an extra hard chocolate-covered coffee bean gets written on Friday. The ending is the one I was really hoping to avoid: extraction under general anaesthesia in hospital.
Since learning the date of this unhappy ending, I have been oscillating between Eckhart Tolle’s “being in the now†and Gary Zukav’s “allow yourself to feel what you’re feelingâ€.
Right now the sky is blue, the sun is shining, the radio is on and I am doing what I love – writing. Nothing else at this time matters.
In the next moment, I am thinking how hospitals are my least favourite place to be; the lack of dignity, privacy and respect as an intelligent being leaves me feeling depleted and devalued. But what I am dreading most are the sensations of being put under: leaving my husband and Mom, the less than cozy warm operating room, the sight of torturous-looking equipment, the smell of the black rubber or clear plastic gas mask…in all of the times I have been put under, I’ve yet to encounter laughing gas in my mask, but rather a claustrophobic, uneasy, tingling, numbing sensation that I can not fight off. I succumb, hoping that I will wake up and without any further complications. The memories make me shudder and bring tears to my eyes, again.
I will be relieved when this molar’s final chapter is complete and I can get on with writing my next one.
If you enjoyed this post, consider buying me a chai tea latte. Thanks kindly.
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