I had my right eye operated on in the early morning, 7:45 to be exact. Same scenario as the left one the week before, in, drops in the eyes, feel good injection (anesthesiologist's term) in the vein, operating room, help into the waiting car for the ride home.
My memory of all that runs the same way. I remember pretty well everything up to the operating room, and I remember getting home, but the rest of it is gone.
Dr. Bill, the anesthesiologist, and I had a running conversation about the old Mid South Assn., which was an association of private schools in and around Chattanooga that competed in many sports. Since I went to McCallie and he went to BGA (Battle Ground Academy) we went back into our memories to conjure up the other schools that competed in that group.
We remembered the two Chattanooga schools, Baylor and McCallie, BGA, CMA, Castle Heights, Sewanee, St. Andrews, and TMI. We talked until I was wheeled in for the operation. I don't remember if there was any more talk after that, although I'm sure he kept tabs on the operation and the recovery period afterward.
After coming home, taking a long nap, getting food in my stomach, and moving about, I went down to the car in the garage to get something for my wife. As I looked in the passenger side, my eye caught a glimpse of a coke can with a straw sticking out the top. I remembered that I had requested one in the recovery room after the first eye was done the prior week. Had I gotten another one and had not remembered it at all?
In the first trip out of the operating room, the nurse asked me what I would like to have to drink. I requested a coke, and it was brought. I carried the can with me as Dwayne drove us home. In fact I remember pitching the can in the recyle bin when we got back to the condo.
Had all of this happened again, and I missed it? The only thing in my memory from the hospital to the condo was telling my friend (who had volunteered to drive us) which spot to park in. What vital secrets had I passed on our 20 minute drive home?
It appears that Dr. Brooks operated on my right eye, they wheeled me out to the post op room, the nurse had again asked what I wanted to drink, I had replied, it was brought to me, they got me up, walked me through the waiting room to the car, got me situated, gave me the coke to sip on, closed the door, and I was transported to the condo.
Not even a fuzzy memory comes back from any of this. Evidently I lived this hour plus time, but you could not prove it by me.
The only thing that was left was an empty coke can with a droopy straw.
I wonder if I finished that conversation with Dr. Bill?
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