One of the (many) things that made me nervous about IVF was the prospect of going under general anaesthetic. I’d never had any form of sedation before and, even in my most inebriated heyday, I’d never blacked out – I always remembered the drunken antics from the night before. Often with more clarity than I perhaps would’ve liked.
The idea of being completely unconscious, naked from the waist down, strapped into a pair of leg stirrups and surrounded by strangers filled me with horror. What embarrassing things might I say whilst under the influence? What hideously personal tale might I reveal to the nurses? Would I dribble? Would I pass wind? Would I flail my arms around like a maniac and belt out a slurred rendition of “God Save The Queen”?
The truth, as I’ve now had to accept it, is that I will never know if I did any (or indeed all) of those things. What happens in the stirrups, stays in the stirrups. What I do know, is that I needn’t have been so worried. It was all over within about 30 minutes and – from what I was told – I gave the nurses a fairly standard IVF patient performance (i.e. I woke up in tears yelling “how many eggs?!”).
I don’t remember crying; or asking about the eggs; or maneuvering myself out of the stirrups and into a wheelie bed. I don’t remember being wheeled down the corridor; or seeing my husband in the waiting room; or wailing “he’s missed his w*nking appointment” repeatedly. But I do remember – quite vividly – the last few moments of consciousness before the anaesthesia hit…
Bright lights were positioned at both ends of me and there were people fiddling with almost every crevice of my anatomy. The anaesthetist was leaning across me and adjusting the oxygen mask over my mouth.
After a couple of inhalations, the room was spinning and I focussed my gaze on the anaesthetist’s face which was hovering inches above my own. Just before I passed out, I pulled the mask down below my chin, looked him directly in the eye and whispered “I’m allergic”.
No idea why. Poor guy must’ve been quite worried.
Below are some anaesthesia anecdotes from your fellow TTC Tribe which I hope will make you smile…
Coming around from my last retrieval I was frantic and asking the nurse where my vagina went. The nurse assured me that vagina was doing very well, perfectly safe and sound and exactly where I left it – to which I proudly replied “ahhh…vagina on fleek”. My husband was mortified.
Under my egg retrieval sedation, my husband said he could hear me from miles away shouting like an old drunk about how lovely the nurses were. Later, as we were leaving, one of them said to us “enjoy your pasta”. Neither of us knew what she was talking about.
I woke up from my last one in tears. When the nurse asked what was wrong, I told her I was upset about One Direction breaking up.
I announced to the nurse who came to check on me afterwards that I’d done a poo. Still not sure if she’d asked.
Apparently I did some kind of “sexy dance” and took off my hospital gown in front of all the nurses.
I sang “Hotel California” by The Eagles from start to finish for the whole ward. It had been playing on the radio shortly before I went under. I even mimed the guitar intro.
I woke up in a panic thinking I was in Sainsbury’s. I don’t even shop there. Someone I know just happened to be walking through the Recovery Unit and recognised me whilst I sobbed about being in Sainsbury’s. He came over to help the nurses who then asked him to stay because I seemed quieter when he was around. Not my finest moment.
I kept referring to the doctor as “my princess”.
My friend had told me to tell the nurses that the pain was “a 7” to get the good drugs. It must’ve stuck in my head because I woke up shouting “PAIN AT NINE PAIN AT NINE”.
I told my husband that we were going to move to Italy to bring up our children so that they would be tanned and bilingual. @lessons_and_lemons
I asked permission to take a nap, was so worried about getting told off! –@infertilityfred
I woke up yelling “give me morphine”. Made do with a biscuit though. @irisjbrookes
When I fly home to the UK from Melbourne I take (naughty alert) a couple of Phernergan’s with a glass of red wine and sleep for 14 hours.. So, when I woke up after my op, I blurted out to the nurse “oh, this feels like when I knock myself out with drugs and alcohol on long haul flights”. The look she gave me. I was so embarrassed. I sounded like a dodgy druggie. – Anonymous