my first surgery. tonsillectomy. anesthesia. my first bout with unconsciousness (sleep doesn't count because it's a natural process). for some reason excited to undergo the rigors of surgery. a perk of going under: choosing an anesthetic flavor. naturally opt for root beer.
on the operating table. blinding lights focused on face. dad on the right, moral support. the surgeon straps on a gas mask and hits a switch. dad counts down from ten. ten, nine, eight. gas hits the lungs. make a weird jugular noise. seven, six, five. lemon flavored. what the fuck. four, three. beyond pissed. two. fight back with valor and might. eyes antagonistically roll up. go limp. slip. one. slip into darkness. gone.
I have since garnered a fear of anesthesia, anesthesiologists, and lemons.
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