My Surgery
It was 2019, in early November. As a four-year old girl, I went to the doctor a lot, just to make sure everything was okay, and I could grow healthy and strong. It was my first time seeing this specific doctor in Boston, Dr. Modey. It is always so exciting to go into the big city, Boston, with all the tall buildings and the sound of cars wheezing by you. I felt the energy as we passed a street concert, with graffitied signs, and the vibrating beat of the drum, bum bum bum ba rump bum bum, and the chanting crowd and the sound of passerbyers. I had never been to this specific hospital, but when I saw this doctor, he felt like a ‘kindred spirit.’ His bald head, to his warm kind eyes, how he cracked jokes, and how he explained things to me in a way I would understand. Something else seemed different about him, he noticed my belly button. I knew that my belly button stuck out, but like everything, I never experienced myself not having a belly button that stuck out, because after so many years, it almost became part of me, I didn’t really notice it. Especially since no doctor ever mentioned it, it seemed new to me, unknown. I then slowly started realizing that other people didn’t have the same belly button as me… there’s was so perfect, mine… not so much.
Suddenly, the room we were in started to spin, and the smell of medicine didn’t help. The picture frames on the wall turned into blurs or color, and the dreamcatcher seemed like it was spinning in circles, over and over again. I wasn’t normal, or at least my belly button wasn’t. After a lot of talking (while I lied down ) on my parent’s part, they finally decided I had to do a surgery to remove the unneeded flesh and stitch back together the muscle to make my belly button normal… or what normal meant for a four year old girl.
The night before the surgery, my heart had a fast, steady beat that seemed louder than the drums at the street performance in Boston. The dining room light felt blinding, and I didn’t have an appetite. Looking back, I probably should have eaten something, besides a gogo squeeze, but at least I ate something. That night, I slept pretty well considering I was having surgery the next day. For once, the pictures and the furniture seemed friendly, with their warm reddish glow, since I had night lights in my room. That morning, I woke up feeling hungry and thirsty, but then realized that the morning of the surgery, I couldn’t eat or drink. I did my morning routine, got dressed in my comfiest clothes, and last but not least, picked up my penguin stuffy, to bring with me from Italy. My Mom dropped my sister off at school, then both my parents brought me into the car, and we were off. This time, Boston seemed gray, and dreary, as if the sky was crying tears, and wailing out into the morning air. When we pulled up to the hospital, my Dad carried me in. The elevator seemed to slowly creep along going to the right floor. The smell of strong medicine and the sound of bustling people. The nurse called my name, and we went into the surgery section. In the waiting room, there was a T.V. which normally, I would have been interested in, but instead, my head was buried in my moms lap. For the second time, they called my name, and I went into this area with a curtain surrounding it, with a bed, T.V. and some tiger pajamas. I slipped off my old clothes and put them on. I grasped my stuffed penguin close. Then they gave me a shot, for pain, and the bed turned into a rolling bed and they rolled me away. From my parents.
“No!!!” I screamed, trying to seize my parents again, so they could return me to safety. my face turning red, I felt like my whole world was being pulled away. What if something happened to me? What if the doctors didn’t do the anesthesia right? How will I get through it? Then everything disappeared and I was rolled into the operation room.
As I soon realized, my parents weren’t allowed into the operating room. Once I got in, they rolled me into an area and put a brake, to secure the wheels. They told me a few stories, to calm me down, then asked me what flavor anesthesia I wanted, and I chose cotton candy. They put an anesthesia mask on me to put me to sleep, and after a couple of deep breaths, I was out cold. In the waiting room for parents, there was a comforting dog, named Raffa, for parents that were waiting for their kids to have their surgery done. As they weaved their hands through Raffa’s fur, It felt as if you were petting a cloud, and for that moment, they felt calm. Raffa went around the waiting room, so everyone could pet her. After my surgery, my Mom said
“ That dog helped me so much, I was so agitated, my heart felt like it was beating two hundred miles an hour!” Soon, the surgery finished, but I still slept on. They rolled me into the recovery room, and soon I woke up. They stuck I.V into my arm, and asked me If I wanted anything to eat or drink.
“ We have lime popsicles, and some water, would you like some?” “Yes, “ I replied.
My mom and dad hugged me tight. “ I’m so glad you’re okay!!!”
My dad said. It felt so good to drink water and eat something (Even if it was only two lime popsicles) After about an hour in the recovery room, my parents told me about Raffa, and gave me a card with her picture and her information. I wanted to meet her so badly! Across the room from me, there was a teenager who was crying, who had just gotten a knee surgery, and as a little girl, I didn’t like when people were sad, so I tried to make her feel better. “Don’t cry,”
I said “ you’ll feel better soon,
Soon, it was time to go back home, so they put me in a wheelchair and wheeled me out. They advised me to not walk for a little while. Once we got into the car, as soon as we started moving I started getting sick. I felt dizzy, queasy and then, as soon as my Mom saw my expressions, she jumped into the back seat and gave me a bag. I got sick,and lost all the food I had eaten( I described it as a tragedy six years ago but I only ate 2 popsicles). The anesthesia was having side effects.
Later that night, after I had made it home, and everyone had stopped by to give me presents ( my favorite part) I got something to eat, eat a good dinner, then in between every three hours, I had to take pain killers. I distinctly remember them tasting disgusting. That night, My mom moved the spare mattress into my bedroom, and got it all set up for the night, because she had to sleep with me, monitor me , and give me pain killers. he worst part was like during the day, every three hours, she had to wake me up and give me the medicine. I slept for three hours. Then my Mom had to shake me awake and give me the medicine. This repeated until eight o’clock A.M.
I also remember that at two in the morning, when my Mom woke me up, I said “ Is it morning already? Why are Daddy and Sofia asleep”
That morning we were all wrecked. But luckily, I had gotten through the surgery, the doctors didn’t mess up, I was okay, and most of all, the next night I could go to bed at seven and wake up at eight. After all of this, I realized going into the hospital wasn’t the end of the world, going into the big city, and getting the surgery. I survived. I was Okay. That was what mattered. And I would recommend not to stress yourself about something that is unlikely to happen, and ALWAYS bring a bag after a surgery, especially after eating two lime popsicles.