Potentially Traumatic... Yet Not

I had surgery Thursday morning. Everything went well prep-wise: the anesthesiologist had no problem inserting the (huge) IV needle into my (tiny) vein, the drugs kicked in, I was ready to go.

I woke up from surgery some time later with a vague feeling of uneasiness, and an IV in a different hand. A few hours later, once home, I realized that I was still numb from about mid-thigh to my navel.

Odd.

And then I remembered.

I remembered a wave of panic, in myself and externally, someone trying to put a mask over my face, me fighting them off, crying, struggling to keep the gas mask away, telling them I was claustrophobic. Then someone stroking my forehead, calming me down, me requesting that they wipe the tears off my cheeks because the salt from my tears makes my skin break out in a rash (yes, I'm serious). And then me asking if my mascara was running. And then I was vaguely aware of slipping back into unconsciousness.

The upshot?

I woke up during surgery. The IV needle that had been in my left hand most likely completely punctured my vein, so I wasn't getting anesthesia any more, and I woke up. The needle in my right hand when I finally really woke up was smaller than the original IV needle had been.

I don't remember feeling any physical pain during my brief period of quasi-lucidity, just an atmosphere of panic in the operating room, lights right over me, and then my own panic as they tried to place the gas mask over my face. If you're not breathing calmly, gas masks don't work, and they probably figured that out and gave up, thus the local anesthetic to keep me from experiencing pain while they inserted a new IV and knocked me back out.

Never a dull moment with Ms. Strainedconsciousness. Even when I'm supposed to be Ms. Unconsciousness.