Personal Narrative: Double Knee Surgery

It is August 12, 2014, just a few weeks before I start my junior year. The day is beautiful and sunny, yet I am filled with fear and dread. The waiting and the anticipation are torture. This is the second time in three years that I am sitting in a hospital awaiting surgery. I thought I would be calm since it is my second double knee surgery, but clearly I am wrong. My surgery has been delayed and it is now two hours past my appointment. I have not had anything to drink or eat since 5 o’clock the day before and at this point my anxiety level is at a ten. Questions race through my mind. What if this does not work or makes things worse? What if I am still left with the pain? I have too many “what if” scenarios running through my head as my mother sits alongside me trying to keep me calm. I try to listen, but all I can hear is my heart beating out of my chest.

As I walk into the operating room, the cold air of the room hits me like a ton of bricks. I nervously canvass the room as my surgeon provides a cheerful greeting. I notice a nurse preparing the medical instruments, the anesthesiologist sitting at the head of the table and a few assistants in gowns. I think to myself, if the person who escorted me into the room was not standing behind me, I could make a quick escape. Instead, he guides me to the operating table where an assistant straps down my arms. At this moment, I am staring at a white plain ceiling, willing myself to stay calm. As the anesthesiologist asks me random questions about myself, I suddenly have the taste of metal in my mouth and my ears start to ring. The voices in the room get further away and there is no longer anything but