Lifted, refreshed, oxygen-deficient

It's been about nine days since Facelift Day, and my habit of never getting through any major event without a hiccup or two was evident as always. Anesthetics do such an odd number on our memories and I was no exception, so hearing about the immediate post-surgical events from Rachel* was downright weird.

 I showed up for surgery as scheduled, and the doc amused me by literally marking up my face with a pen so we both could see which areas he would be "enhancing" - his words, not mine. Then his anesthesiologist knocked me out and he got to work. The surgery itself went as expected, but when it was time to wake me up, things went awry.

I ended up aspirating stomach acid and my oxygen level dived, and according to the OR nurse, I literally turned purple for about 30 seconds as my oxygen dropped to around 30%. This was fixed in less than a minute as I was still intubated, but then I went into full-scale attack mode.  The doctor had already called an ambulance so I could be admitted to a hospital for observation, and it had taken four staff members to hold me down and get me into an ambulance. The doctor said later "I had no idea you were so strong."

According to Rachel, who had shown up to drive me home but ended up heading to the hospital, the surgeon was so upset that he stayed in my hospital room for several hours after I was admitted. He told her that that in 20 years of practice and weekly surgeries, he hadn't seen this happen with anyone else.

The next morning I couldn't remember any of what had happened, and didn't even know where I was as I didn't have my glasses with me. Rachel showed up later to tell me that I had regained consciousess last night and correctly answered all of the usual questions nurses ask, even adding an amusing anti-Trump rant when asked who was President.

I ended up staying in the hospital for one additional night before Rachel took me to our doctor friend's house to recuperate for a few more days.

On the bright side, the surgery turned out really well and the stitches and staples are all out now, although I am still pretty bruised up.  

* See The Usual Suspects.