Put Me Out

Put Me Out1

by Mary O2

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I see white cotton with pale blue stripes and flailing strings dancing in my mind. Like a ghost floating in a dark hallway, this vision haunts and unnerves my natural inclination to calm. The time is near when I must face my nemesis. 4

Two weeks ago while all here in class shared and enjoy each others stories I entered the hospital for a most needed knee surgery. With no food or water ingested since dinner the night before, by early morning anxiety activated the churning and gurgle of acids in my empty stomach. The nerves in my neck felt wrenched like a tightened locknut, and all this because of a silly fear. But, I can’t help it. I had already canceled the first appointed surgery a month before only to prolong the misery and pain of my debilitated knee. There’s no escaping this time. 5

Many people suffer from various forms of phobias; spiders, small space enclosures, heights etc., but I’m not one of them. No, my fear has never been recognized, to my knowledge, as a true phobia. But you too know well this familiar bogey. Like a spider, harmless until contact, the hospital gown, yes, the hospital gown, that soft clean, fresh smelling piece of apparel; well, everyone knows what happens when contact is made with the flesh. And, there’s no antidote for its sting. The consequences are known and recorded. The sojourn while clutched in its stingy strings becomes an endurance test for one’s painful and humiliating loss of modesty and control. It’s been a long time, 33 years to be exact, when that familiar gown beckoned my wear. And so, the haunt begins as past memories when pregnant with my youngest comes to mind. I now relive the months of horror when that awful opened-back frock draped my body.6

Upon entering the Hospital, located on Coronado Island, I did however become momentarily distracted from my inner feelings of turmoil. As I studied the building’s antiquated structure. The facility appeared in my mind, as an old military hospital with walls painted in the customary sandy-pink hue. They say that pinkish walls have a calming effect. Perhaps it’s true. At the admissions desk, friendly, fully uniformed, elderly Pink Ladies greeted me with sweet smiles. Feeling welcomed as a guest and part of a family, I sat down more at ease. The taste of good old-time professionalism stimulated my senses with thoughts of times past. I related to a time when a neighbor friend offered me one of her homegrown tomatoes. As I bit into the tomato I suddenly remembered what a real tomato tasted like. 7

“Mary Olkowski,” a lady called out, “will you come with me. I’ll take you to your room now.” I followed. As the lady opened the door at the end of the hall, we entered into a room filled with nurses. I’ve never been good at concealing first reactions. I’m sure the nurses got a kick out of mine. There before me stood all male nurses, relatively young, with military stature, and not a single female nurse present. They too, welcomed me with sparkling eyes and great big smiles stretched across their faces. This time, however, I’m not sensing homegrown tomatoes but instead my phobia reared its colors, white with pale blue stripes and flailing strings. 8

Hyperventilating now, I struggled to catch my breath. One of the nurses, a handsome black man, shook my hand and introduced himself as William. “Come with me. I’ll take you to your room so we can get you ready for surgery. As he opened my room door he questioned, “You seem tense and nervous.” 9

“Yes, very,” I said, 10

“Well, no need to worry. You’re in good hands. Go ahead and have a seat in the chair. Before we begin I must go over some question with you. Sorry, I know you’ve been asked all these questions already but it’s our proceedure to double check everything.”11

The large chair served dual purposes. Upright it felt and looked like a comfortable over-stuffed lounge chair. When fully reclined it served a an examination bed. With my head feeling frazzled with fear, I really didn’t want to go through all the same questioning again. About midway through the questions, William asked, “Have you ever experienced shortness of breath, difficulty with breathing?” 12

-Of course I have, am. I haven’t been able to get a good catch of air in my lungs since I entered the nurses station. Good God, their going to put me under and I’ll never wake up.- “No,” I replied. 13

After answering all the questions William asked if I’d be interested in their Healing Touch program. “What is it all about?” I asked.14

“It’s sort of a message therapy performed to relax you before surgery only more as a touch than message.”

-Yea right. . .that’s all I need to add to the acids breaking down the walls in my empty intestinal track.- “No, I think I’ll pass. Not this time, thank you.
Next William checked my blood pressure. “Very good,” he said. “120 over 80. You
have the heart of a young person.” 15

-Well, that was high blood pressure for me and I held my breath almost the whole time. I can’t let him know I’m experiencing shortness of breath. Dear God, help me. I’m feeling faint.- 16

“Now, Mrs. Olkowski I must ask you to remove all jewelry, clothing, even your underwear.”17

“All of my clothes,” I questioned. “Gee, surgery is only on my knee.” 18

“Sorry, hospital procedure. Everything must come off. There’s a hospital gown hanging in the bathroom for you to put on. Here’s a bag to put your belongings into. When you’re finished you can return to the
chair. The anesthesiologist will be in shortly to ask more questions.” 19

While William mentioned something about being put under I interjected, “William, pardon my asking but, I’m thinking I really don’t want to be put completely under. Is it possible to just be numbed from the waist down?”20

“Sure, just about anything’s possible. Just mention it to the anesthesiologist when he comes in. Also, someone will come to do an EKG test on you as well.” He handed me the TV remote, showed me how it worked, put his hand on my shoulder and said, “Relax, Be comfortable. I’ll return later to scrub your knee for surgery.”21

As I opened the bathroom door, there it hung. I swear it snickered at me. -Oh, I hate this part.- Clutching the hanger I removed that wretched bottom exposing piece of cloth. After slipping my arms into arm holes I reached around to my back side for the chal-lenge; to tie the strings and close tightly the gap. After finagling with the ties I managed to get pretty good closure. With my left hand grasping the lower open ends of the garment, I made my way back onto the chair. Finally, I managed to catch a couple of good breaths. No sooner I picked up the TV remote, when in walked a tall handsome EKG Tech. Perhaps if I were younger I’d be loving the attention of all these good-looking men, but, I’m not. It feels more like being in the hands of my son’s generation of friends which makes me even more selfconscious.22

As the strings I tied so well are now being untied by the tech, like a sea-urchin retreating tightly inward from fear of being touched, my lungs once again colapsed and refused air. I’m sure the fine man introduced himself but amnesia's set in. My face flushed with a rush of hot blood to my cheeks. -If only I could take back the day I compounded this old soccer knee injury. I’ve been so careful all these years. I could have, and should have, stepped down off that stool on my good knee. Too late know.-23

To my surprise the tech must have been schooled on how to discreetly place the heart monitoring tabs on women. Carefully he adjusted my gown to minimize exposure of my breast. -Thank you, Thank you, nice man. That wasn’t too bad after all.- 24

As soon as the tech left, in walked another tall handsome young man, the anesthesiologist. He came only to ask more questions. “. . .. Have you ever experienced shortness of breath?”

“No,” I replied. -I’m going to die.- 25

At the end of all the questioning I asked about having only the lower part of my body numbed. He said that would be fine. The only draw back would be that I’d have stay in the hospital longer. We agreed on a saddle-block procedure.26

Nurse William returned as he promised, but with a female nurse. I thought no such creature existed here. After introducing me, he left she and I alone in the room. The nurse, evidently had paid no heed to my answer to William about Healing Touch therapy. “Would you be interested in our Healing Touch Therapy,” she asked.
"What is this about exactly," I responded, as if I didn't know. The nurse explained in much the same way as William but in more detail. She said she and another nurse, female name, would be performing the procedure on me. She also informed me that she and her partner are new at the procedure and are at level one of five levels in their healing touch class. I saw the eagerness in her eyes to have a chance to practice on me. I said, “Okay.”27

It wasn’t bad, really, more at prayer and hands over the body with very little touching. I felt comfortable with that and it did relax me, as she assured me it would.28

William walked in almost immediately after the nurses left the room. He held a bucket with water, a scrubber, and Betadine and soap. I quickly tucked my gown down between my legs but not fast enough for him not to have noticed. I think all males have an ornery streak, cunning and plotting. It begins very young in age. You remember. Son hiding around a corner waiting to pop out at just the right time to cause mom to jump and scream. I saw a glint in Williams eyes that struck that note. Gently he pushed up my gown about mid-thigh and began to scrub. He must have scrubbed for over fifteen minutes. The scrubbing began to feel like a fantastic message. I thought my husband should take lessons. I asked, “Why so much scrubbing?”

“Because we have to prevent against any bacteria near the area of surgery. I assure you your knee will be scrubbed again in the operating room only they’ll scrub you from your crotch down to your ankles.”

Well, William may as well have been the kid hiding around a corner. The next words out of my mouth to the anesthesiologist while sitting on the operating table, room icy cold, and having all my gown strings untied were, “Put me out.” 29


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