People who have woken up during surgery, what was it like?

The Cost of Approval

My girlfriend’s father turned out to be a monster who wanted me gone. So, he tried to personally give me a fate worse than death. But I wasn’t going to let that slide. I was in sophomore year of college when I got my first girlfriend, and everything was perfect except her genetics.

You see, her dad was crazy. For our first four dates, her dad literally parked his car outside the diners we went to for our dates and waited until we were done.

Two months into our relationship, he confessed to hiring a private tutor to sit in our shared lecture hall just to report back on my body language around her. When he got the report that I was respectful and caring, he was finally willing to have me over for dinner. He planned it two weeks in advance, and I did everything I could to prepare.

I bought the exact whiskey he drinks, aged, and imported from his hometown. I took a crash course in anesthesiology, his career field, and even took a few tests so I’d know what he was talking about.

But as soon as the day came, he opened the door with an AK-47 in his hand. I swear I thought he was pranking me.

That’s when he started glaring at me, completely straightfaced. While keeping his eyes locked, he cocked his gun and reluctantly welcomed me into his home. Trying to impress him was like trying to do standup comedy at a funeral.

Even when I handed him the $500 whiskey, he just nodded like it was the least impressive thing he’d ever seen. I’m black btw. So even when he referred to me as a cottonpicking slave or I just smiled.

But my girlfriend was the love of my life. I knew things were getting really good when he invited me to stay past dinner. Even my girlfriend looked over at me with widened, smiling eyes until I said it. The one sentence that filled her dad with enough rage to ruin my life forever. Honestly, I don’t think I would be able to handle that much pressure.

My voice was uplifting. praiseful.

Oh, he spoke through clenched teeth. So, you don’t think I can do my job correctly? After 15 years of applying anesthesia, you think I just don’t know what I’m doing?

My body tensed up. I knew there was no way out of this, so I just stayed silent.

Dad, relax.

Enough.

He instantly interrupted my girlfriend, who tried to deescalate the situation. I heard his gun again, and I immediately shot up and made a beline towards the door.

I buried my face in my hands. My girlfriend’s family was extremely traditional, and if I didn’t have the approval of her dad, then there was no way I could marry her one day. This thought alone was enough to make me tear up.

There was no way I’d let her dad catch me crying. So instead, I just drove home. There, I took a good hard look at myself in the mirror. I stared at my skinny arms. I thought of how empty my bank account was. No effing wonder. If I was him, I’d hate my guts, too.

From then on, I started going to the gym almost every day. I picked up an extra 20 hours of work a week. There was no way my laziness would be the reason I didn’t get to marry the love of my life.

But after going ham for just 3 days, I got an injury. It was like a throbbing, extremely painful injury. As I drove myself to the ER, I called my girlfriend, mainly just to keep her updated on what was going on.

Wait, is it Waterstone Hospital?

I told her yes, and she told me to wait. Two minutes later, she told me not to worry about the wait time because her dad would pull some strings and make sure I get into the surgery room ASAP. An awful gut feeling washed over me, but I just wanted the pain to end.

I thanked her and she told me not to worry because her dad would make sure I get the best surgeon there. I highly doubted it, but thanked her again anyway. Well, fast forward to the operating table. Her dad was the one to inject me with anesthesia and I fell asleep except I didn’t wake up when the surgery was over.

I still remember how it felt when my eyes felt like they were taped shut and my arms tied down. I tried moaning around the tube in my mouth. It was then that I realized I had woken up during my surgery as I tried my best to thrash around. I could make out the sound of my girlfriend’s dad’s voice.

I swear I could hear him chuckle before covering it up with a cough.

Someone even asked, “Hey, Ben, did he wake up?” “Nah, it’s just a normal bodily reaction.” He responded.

My blood went cold. I couldn’t feel the pain, but the sensation of feeling a breeze inside your guts while you are essentially cut open. I still have nightmares about it. I was lying there for almost an hour, forced to hear the squaltching sound of all my organs moving around.

When it was over, I didn’t speak to anyone for a full week. I didn’t even leave my house. I couldn’t. It felt like I was stuck inside my own body. Not even crying could help me feel better.

I didn’t even realize how effed up it was until I booked an emergency therapist appointment. When I told her what had happened, her face literally drained of color. She opened her mouth like she was about to say something, but no words came out.

It was then that all my sadness was replaced with anger. I did everything I could for him and his daughter and in return he gave me PTSD and disassociation and he thought he had gotten away with it.

After that therapy session, I spent the next few days in a fog. The therapist had given me some coping mechanisms for the PTSD, but they barely took the edge off. I’d wake up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat, feeling phantom sensations of being cut open.

It was Hol. Alicia kept calling and texting. I ignored most of them, but eventually I couldn’t avoid her anymore. She showed up at my apartment on a Tuesday afternoon with soup and a worried expression.

I let her in because despite everything, I still loved her. That’s the messed up part. I loved her even though her dad had basically tortured me.

“You look terrible,” she said, setting the soup container on my coffee table.

My apartment was a disaster zone. Dirty clothes everywhere, takeout containers piled up, blinds drawn. I hadn’t cleaned in days.

I just nodded and sat down on the couch. She sat next to me, not too close, like she could sense I needed space. I decided to test the waters.

The surgery was rough, I told her, watching her face carefully. I think I woke up during it. Her expression didn’t change. No shock, no horror, just sympathy.

That happens sometimes. Dad says it’s rare but normal. The docs can make you think you’re awake when you’re not.

That’s when I knew. She either had no idea what her dad had done or she was in complete denial. I couldn’t tell which was worse.

Yeah, maybe. I said, not wanting to push it yet. I needed time to think, to plan. If I accused her dad outright, she’d never believe me. I needed proof.