Second Trigger

These Steve triggers are funny things.
Like, being in the same oral surgeon's office where I had my wisdom teeth out.

In 2001, I think it was the summer, I had all four of my wisdom teeth taken out. Steve volunteered (after a mere 6 months or so of dating) to shuttle me to and from. I was an absolute wreck the week before because they were going to have to sedate me with an IV.

Are you aware of my fear of IVs? Oh, I become a raving lunatic. Actually, anything that has to do with the center of my elbows or the underside of my wrists sets me into a sweaty panic. Giving blood? Oh hell no. HELL NO.

So in the consultation beforehand, the doctor mentioned IV and I started sweating and crying and just freaked out. He sensed my unease and offered to put the IV in the back of my hand. Not great, but much, much better. He also wrote me a prescription for Valium to take prior to going in the morning of the surgery.

The morning of, I took my Valium, Steve picked me up and off to the oral butcher we went. (Thanks to Shaun for such a perfect title.) I was somewhat calm until the doctor, while pulling out my right arm, informed me that they couldn't find a good vein in the back of the hand so they were going to have to put the IV in the center of my elbow.

And I honestly cannot type that without sweating.

So now, I'm in a full on panic attack and I'm crying and pleading and wailing. Otis, this very large, bald, black nurse (who later got cookies from me as an apology for being so difficult) is holding my left hand, trying to soothe me and talking very calming about something that he thinks will take my mind off of the fact I'm getting a needle right where I don't want it. Then there was the nitrous mask over my face and then......nothing.

I woke up in the recovery room, with gauze in my mouth, still crying and Steve holding my hand and stroking my hair. I kept saying "Look at my arm.....look at my arm...." so he could see that they didn't not give me the IV in my hand like they said they would, but in, of all place, my arm!

He looked.
And he got pissed.

He started to get up to go yell at someone, but I pulled him back down and said no, they just did what they had to do. I think he actually talked to the nurse about it, but I don't remember anything after that. However, I'm told that when the nurse came in to ask how I was, I said "Peachy" which was apparently very funny to everyone.

I spent the rest of the day sleeping, then the next day on Steve's couch, watching baseball while he would wake me every now and then to tell me to flip over so he could put frozen peas on my cheeks.

Anyway, I cried a lot yesterday.
Who knew?