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In this issue of ESCAPE:
THE PATCHWORK GIRL OF OZ Page 32
THE BIG PICK Episode 3
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Your pal,
Otis
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Episode 3: Lockdowns, Riots, And Brain Games
Okay, let’s go back to May of 2020…
So…
The date of the surgery was set. The Big Pick, as I had decided to call it (they were going into my nose to get to my brain, so it felt appropriate). And guess what? The date they had chosen happened to be the same day as my late father’s birthday: May 28th. My father, who had also gone through brain surgery (although a different kind), so it was a strange coincidence that was a bit unsettling.
Fast forward to the day of my surgery. My wife drove me to the hospital around noon, but thanks to COVID restrictions and lockdowns—which had started just a few months earlier—she couldn't come in with me. No visitors allowed, just staff and patients. She was pretty upset about having to drop me off at the curb for brain surgery. It felt wrong on so many levels. Dropping her husband off at the curb for like that went against her every instinct as a wife and human being.
And if that wasn't enough stress, the riots in Minneapolis after George Floyd's death were happening just a couple of miles from our home. So my wife not only had to worry about me going through major surgery, but she also had to plan for a possible evacuation with our three pets. She even packed a go-bag and got pet carriers, litter boxes, and dog/cat food ready in case things went south and she had to make a run for it in the middle of the night. And that was a real danger on that day. The gas station we frequented was burned down, cars were set on fire just blocks away, and a jewelry store near our home had been broken into and looted.
Strange days, for sure.
Back at the hospital, things were pretty surreal. The place was divided by makeshift walls and screens in an effort to keep people in specific areas and maintain a certain distance from one another. Oh, and everyone was wearing masks—except for me. It was like some bizarre dystopian Sci-fi movie and I was the stranger in a strange land.
A gaggle of nurses and med techs prepped me for surgery that afternoon, doing tests and a last-minute CT scan. I waited in the prep room for what felt like ages because my surgery kept getting delayed. Finally, someone (who knows who, they were behind their mask) came in and said, "It's time." I laid down on a gurney and got wheeled away. That whole trip felt like an out-of-body experience… like it was happening to someone else. I remember staring at the ceiling as they took me through the hospital halls, into an elevator, and finally into the room where my surgery would take place. Everything felt so dreamlike... probably because they'd already started giving me some drugs to get ready for the big show.
So, there I was, feeling kinda relaxed (probably thanks to some groovy meds) as they wheeled me into surgery. I'll never forget staring at the ceiling during that trip, feeling a sense of acceptance—a feeling of letting go of any agency, and allowing myself to be taken on a journey that I had no control over. And that’s exactly what was happening. I was putting my life in the hands of my surgeons.
I had to trust them.
I had to let go.
The surgery room was cold and bright, with lots of hustle and bustle going on around me. Someone in a mask leaned over me into my field of vision and informed me that I was going to be sedated for the surgery. They asked if I was ready, and I said, "Yep!" I must have sounded falsely at ease to them, but I really was relaxed. Next thing I know, they're putting something over my nose and mouth and telling me to count backward from 100.
I’m pretty sure I didn't even make it to 97 before everything went black.
Stay tuned for next week's episode: “Post Pick”
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