Personal Narrative: My Knee Surgery

I had been cringing about day for so long. I was completely terrified to go into that room. As the door opened I was exposed to a cold draft and I could feel the dense air. The day I was told this needed to be done was horrifying, and now it’s actually happening. They rolled me over to a new bed and I looked around seeing doctors everywhere. There was a table that they rolled next to me and on it was things that I can’t even explain. They put a green mask on me with tubes going through both sides of it. They told me I’d get drowsy and all of the sudden I closed my eyes and it was happening. I was getting knee surgery.

As time goes on, there are small clues as to what is exactly happening. “You may feel a tugging sensation at your ankles.” “He feels discomfort in his gut.” “I’m afraid we are going to have to stop talking now.” “I’m afraid you are going to have to stop blinking now.” The chapter then describes the conversation held between the surgeons. From what is written, the reader gets the sense that there is no care for the patient. Talking about the games, making simple jokes as if the boy was not there. “Did you see yesterday’s

Feelings of desperation and worry flourished my body as I watched my mother with tubes in her mouth getting rushed to the operating room. “Is mommy going to make it out alive?”. “Will I become an orphan?”. These are the exact thoughts that were running through my mind. In life one minute you could be decorating your Christmas tree and the other you're sitting in an uncomfortable chair of the

I started to shake because I was so nervous from all that was happening. Just yesterday, I was worried about passing my LSAT, and now I was being told that I have something possibly wrong with my brain. I waited until the doctors got the results from the annoying machine. I waited and waited forever. Dr. Sloan finally walked into my room right as I was about to drift off. “Your scans came back, and you have a brain aneurysm,” he said, pausing to let me take it all in. “It has grown to a very large size. The nurses told me you had been having terrible headaches and symptoms for months now. Why have you not come to the doctors before now?” he said with a sincere, worried look on his face. I thought for a moment and started to defend myself, but nothing came to mind. I had a feeling for a few months that something was wrong, but had refused to go to the hospital because I needed to work on my exam and study harder. I pushed through the pain, and eventually forgot about the terrible headaches I would endure for hours at a time. I must have zoned off because Sloan was staring at me waiting for my answer. “Can you please just let me have some time to myself. I need time to process all of this,” I remarked with a scowl on my face. Dr. Sloan started to exit the room, but he looked like he wanted to say something. He stared at me with a curious look, but briskly walked away, sighing because he had given up trying to talk to

My heartrate has to be off the charts. I’m sure the anesthesiologist would know, since I’m hooked up to a monitor. She is doing her damnedest to make this experience seem routine. For her, I’m sure it is. She must do at least a dozen sections a week. I, on the other hand, have never had surgery. Never have I had another life inside me either, counting on me to make all the right decisions. I’m hoping this is the right decision. I am sitting here on this hard cold steel table alone, no loved ones are allowed back until the procedure is underway. My naked back is exposed to a student. There will be a slight pinch as the needle pierces through my lumbar flesh kissing the anesthetic solution into my system. I am here because my daughter, my already

Terrified was an understatement. “Surgery….surgery…surgery…” was the only word that I heard echoed through the room , and suddenly images of knifes and flesh being cut invaded my ten years old mind. Peritonitis, was what I had, “unfortunately” I thought then, yet “fortunately” I know now. My calling in life was then discovered and for that I will be forever grateful. Petrified and alone, I was yearning for someone to understand my fear and explain what is about to happen to me; to clarify what the doctors said. That 's when a Physician Assistant walked in and changed my life forever. I will always remember Julie 's smile and reassuring voice which filled me with a sense of calm and genuine comfort. She was carrying a doll and highlighted what my surgery was all about. As I lay in bed recovering after surgery, I decided that one day I will be like Julie and I will help people feel secure and safe in the healthcare setting.

I had my fourth knee surgery this past winter and my goal is to let go of my fear. I have one more sports season left before graduation. If I complete the full season, it will be the first time since my sophomore year that I have done so. I know that I will not be able to achieve the goal of playing a full season without letting go of my fear, and after four consecutive seasons on the sidelines I have come to fear more then just injury. I have come to fear not having the talent to play at the high school varsity level. I fear that the coaches will only see my as a injury waiting to happen and not as an athlete. I fear a season spent worrying about what could happen oppose to whats happening in the moment. I fear another season on the sidelines.

They had to run so much tests and questions before surgery it was so annoying. Later I find myself laying in bed getting everything connected on me so I could go to the surgery room. They said it would take about thirty minutes to finish the process of the surgery. When they came to get me I literally started to scream “wheeeeee” in the hallway while they pulled me away from my room. As I entered the surgery room it became so cold that my breath could be visible. Later a guy started to explain to me on what their going to do and how they're going to put me on the

At 54 years of age and having 14 surgeries in my adult life under my belt you would think I would have been calm. All my other surgeries I had faced with healthy trepidation and concern but not fear. However the past year and a half I had been in so much pain that I was very scared that I would come out of surgery in more pain then when I went in.

Next, the nurses came to put water into my IV to hydrate me. They did this since I also could not drink the day of the procedure. Afterwards, they put some type of medication into my IV, I could tell as soon as they did. Immediately I felt tired and almost in a daze. However, I was still aware of everything that was going on around me. During all of this, I had received a blanket to use that had a hose connected to it blowing hot air into the blanket that made me very warm. This blanket was my favorite part of the day of the surgery. After this, someone else came in to do a nerve block in my knee. A nerve block is what they did to numb my right leg from my knee down so that I would not have as much pain after the surgery. While they did this, I could feel the four inch needles slowly sliding into my knee. This was not painful as you might think, it was almost like a pinching sensation. While doing the nerve block they had to do a ultrasound on my knee so they would not hit any nerves they did not want to. The last thing that I remember before the surgery was the anesthesiologist coming into my pre-op room to give me anesthesia. Then I went under.

I went to the appointment on that Monday, and being a bigger hospital, I was even more terrified. We checked in, and luckily found a spot to sit in one of the waiting room. The room wasn’t filled with sadness or negativity, it was somehow filled with laughter. There were many children, therefore some of the parents had brought coloring book for them. I just wanted to know what these children were at the hospital for. They seemed to be the most charming children ever, and I just couldn’t understand why whatever they're going through was happening to them. My parents had left to buy coffee,

In previous literature, patients have demonstrated and expressed feelings of helplessness, powerlessness and anxiety (6,9). Surgical interventions and procedures invoke strong reactions around pain, complication risk and death for the patient and their families (5). Additionally, in the preoperative phase of waiting to be transferred to the operating room, previous studies have shown that this can be the most frightening time for many patients (5,6,9). When this preoperative waiting time is compounded with the sudden cancellation or postponement of a patient’s surgery, many patients experience heightened negative effects (5,9).

The rest of the day was a blur, too many worried faces, too many bloodshot eyes to remember any details. There was restless waiting and relentless encounters with doctors that seemed to never end. Although, despite all of the action throughout the day, it was all ended when the head Cardiothoracic surgeon came out and told us that he had repaired a bleed coming from my Uncle’s heart, and that he would survive. I had never felt more joy in my life, and that was the moment that I knew I wanted to be a surgeon. If I could feel that much of a rush just thinking about saving a life, there was no doubt in my mind that being a surgeon was what I was destined to do. Being able to save another person’s life and bring that amount of joy and relief to their family was

There were only six people, including myself and my mom, in the orthopedic clinic's waiting room. The other four were two couples. When we entered, one elderly couple glanced up with wrinkled faces. The other was a mother and her adult son, and both smiled at me and my mom. After we had checked in for my appointment, we sat and waited like the other patients. At the age of 15, I was the youngest in that waiting room. I was also the only one wearing a cast on my arm. I felt a bit out of place. Then the door to the doctors' offices swung open. A young couple walked out, holding onto the hands of a little girl. They all had sparkling eyes and beaming faces. Upon closer observation, I realized that the girl couldn't comfortably hold onto her dad's hand because she was wearing a prosthetic forearm and hand. Despite her condition, I couldn't help but smile at the sheer image of her joy. As the family walked by, I stuck my good hand out and asked for a high five. She was shy, but her parents encouraged her. She missed the first time, but after a successful second attempt with her prosthetic hand, everyone in that room, even the women at the

You enter the hospital acting brave for your parents because you are a “big boy” now and eventually exit the hospital crying with a lollipop in your mouth. I would love to say that I was mature and did not fear the concept of having a needle enter my body; however, I was not. I cried louder than anybody in the hospital. The one thing I did do differently though was I asked for the doctors white coat instead of a simple lollipop. The doctors coat gave me a new motive at my monthly visits to the hospital; I was the doctor now.