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

Justice Served

I ended up staying with a friend from class, Michael, who lived in a secure apartment building with cameras and a door man. Alicia joined me there, both of us essentially in hiding while the investigation continued. The medical board hearing was scheduled for the following week.

Jordan and the other victims would testify along with me and Alicia. Richard had prepared a comprehensive case, including what evidence we still had and testimonies from medical experts who had reviewed the records.

The night before the hearing, I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about everything that had happened, how a simple college romance had turned into this nightmare. But I also felt a grim determination. Dr. Matthews had hurt too many people. He needed to be stopped.

The morning of the hearing, Richard met us outside the medical board offices.

Ready? He asked.

I nodded, taking Alicia’s hand. Ready.

As we walked toward the building, I spotted a familiar black Escalade parked across the street. Dr. Matthews was watching us, his face expressionless behind the windshield. Our eyes met for a moment, and I felt a chill run down my spine, but I didn’t look away. Not this time. I stared right back, letting him know I wasn’t afraid anymore. Whatever happened next, I was ready.

The medical board hearing was held in this stuffy room with uncomfortable chairs and fluorescent lighting that made everyone look suck. Jordan was already there when we arrived, sitting nervously in the corner and picking at her fingernails. She gave me a small nod when she saw me.

Two other former patients were there, too. an older guy named Joseph who’d had knee surgery and a woman named Sarah who’d had her gallbladder removed. Both had the same experience as me and Jordan. Richard went over our strategy one last time.

“Just tell the truth,” he said. “Don’t embellish. Don’t speculate. Stick to what you experienced.”

I nodded, my mouth dry. The board members filed in. Five doctors in business attire looking serious and important. They introduced themselves, but I was too nervous to remember their names.

Then, Dr. Matthews walked in with his lawyer, some slick-l looking guy in an expensive suit. Dr. Matthews didn’t even glance at me or Alicia. He just sat down and stared straight ahead, looking completely calm and professional.

The hearing started with Richard presenting our case. He laid out the evidence we still had, the medical records showing my elevated vitals during surgery, the testimonies from Jordan and the others, and statements from medical experts who’d reviewed everything. Alicia testified about the files she’d found in her dad’s office, her voice shaking but determined.

When it was my turn, I told them everything. The dinner, the surgery, the golf game, the threatening text, even the car that had swerved at me. Dr. Matthews’s lawyer objected to that last part, saying it was unsubstantiated and irrelevant. The board chairman agreed and told me to stick to medical issues.

Throughout my testimony, doctor Matthews just watched me with those cold eyes, occasionally whispering to his lawyer. He looked so confident, so sure of himself. It made me doubt everything for a second. Maybe I was crazy. Maybe I had imagined it all.

Then Jordan testified, describing her experience in detail. It was almost identical to mine. The paralysis, the awareness, the sounds of the surgical team. She also talked about the retaliation afterward, the mysterious illnesses, the lost medical records. Joseph and Sarah shared similar stories.

When Dr. Matthews finally took his turn, he was the picture of professional indignation. He explained how anesthesia awareness was a rare but known complication, how the mind could play tricks, how patients often misinterpreted their experiences. He presented his own expert witnesses who testified that my vital signs were within normal parameters during surgery.

“These accusations are not just false,” he said, looking directly at the board members. “They’re dangerous. They undermine patient trust in necessary medical procedures. They damaged the reputation of dedicated health care professionals.”

His lawyer then presented character witnesses, colleagues who praised his skill and ethics, former patients who called him a lifesaver. He even had a statement from Mrs. Matthews claiming she’d been pressured by me to give me those files. My heart sank when I heard that. I hadn’t expected her to testify against us, but I should have known. Doctor Matthews would find a way to control her.

By the end of the day, I was exhausted and discouraged. It felt like we were losing. Dr. Matthews had more resources, more credibility, more everything. As we left the building, Richard tried to stay positive.

The board seemed interested in the pattern of complaints. He said, “That’s significant.”

Alicia squeezed my hand. “They have to see the truth. They have to.”

We went back to Michael’s apartment to wait for the board’s decision, which could take days or even weeks. I couldn’t focus on anything, not classes, not work, not even basic stuff like eating or sleeping. The waiting was almost worse than the hearing itself.

Three days later, I got a call from an unknown number. I almost didn’t answer, thinking it might be Dr. Matthews, but something made me pick up.

“Hello,” I said cautiously.

“Is this the young man who filed a complaint against Dr. Matthews.” The voice was female, older, with a slight accent I couldn’t place.

Yes, I said. Who’s this?

My name is Jennifer. I was a nurse at Waterstone for 20 years. I worked with Dr. Matthews many times.

My heart started racing. Why are you calling me?

Because I saw your case in the hospital records. I’ve suspected for years that Dr. Matthews was problematic, but I never had proof.

Do you have proof now? I asked, trying not to get my hopes up.

Maybe, she said. I kept my own notes about concerning incidents. Times when patients showed signs of awareness, but Dr. Matthews ignored them. times when he seemed pleased about patient distress.

I sat up straighter. Would you be willing to share those notes with the medical board?

She hesitated. I’m retired now. I don’t have to worry about my job anymore. But Dr. Matthews has friends in elevated places.

I understand if you’re scared, I said. but he’s h people. He tried to hurt me. He might have even called someone. I told her about Thomas, Alicia’s ex-boyfriend.

There was a long silence. Then I’ll think about it. Give me your lawyer’s number.

I gave her Richard’s contact info, then called him immediately after to let him know about Jennifer. He was cautiously optimistic but warned me not to get my hopes up too much. Even if she comes forward, there’s no guarantee the board will reopen the case to hear new testimony, he said.

But two days later, Richard called me with news. Jennifer contacted the board directly. He said she had documentation, not just notes, but actual copies of anesthesia records that had been altered. The board has agreed to reconvene to hear her testimony. For the first time in weeks, I felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe we could win this.

The second hearing was scheduled for the following Monday. The weekend before, Alicia and I were still staying at Michael’s place, too afraid to go back to our own apartments. We were watching a movie when Alicia’s phone rang. It was her mom. Alicia put it on speaker so I could hear. Mrs. Matthews sounded terrified.

Your father knows about the second hearing, she said, her voice barely above a whisper. He found out about the nurse. He’s He’s not himself, Alicia. I’m scared.

Mom, where are you? Alicia asked already grabbing her keys.

At home, he’s been drinking since he got the call from his lawyer. He keeps saying no one’s going to ruin what he’s built. That he’ll take care of things himself if he has to.

Get out of there, I said. Go to a friend’s house, a hotel, anywhere.

I can’t, she said. He took my car keys, my wallet. He’s watching me.

Alicia looked at me, panic in her eyes. We need to call the police, she said after hanging up.

I agreed, and we did. The dispatcher said they’d send someone to do a welfare check, but it could be a while since it wasn’t an active emergency. Not satisfied with that, we decided to go ourselves. Michael insisted on coming, too, and we took his car since Dr. Matthews would recognize mine. The drive to Alicia’s house felt like it took forever, even though it was only about 15 minutes.

When we arrived, the house was dark except for a light in what I knew was Dr. Matthews’s study. Michael parked down the street, and we debated what to do.

I should go in alone, Alicia said. He won’t hurt me.

No way, I said. We go together or not at all.

We decided to approach the house from the back where there was a patio door that led into the kitchen. Alicia still had her key. As we crept around the side of the house, I could hear raised voices coming from inside. Dr. Matthews yelling, “Mrs. Matthews crying.”

Alicia unlocked the patio door as quietly as possible, and we slipped inside. Michael stayed by the door, ready to call 911 if things went south.

Alicia and I moved toward the study, following the sound of the argument.

“You think I’m going to let some nurse ruin everything?” Dr. Matthews was saying, his words slightly slurred. “After everything I’ve built, everything I’ve done for this family?”

Please, Benjamin, Mrs. Matthews pleaded. “Just stop. It’s over.”

It’s not over until I say it’s over.

We reached the study door, which was partially open. Through the crack, I could see Dr. Matthews pacing back and forth, a glass of whiskey in one hand. Mrs. Matthews was sitting in a chair, looking small and afraid. And on the desk was a GN, not the AK-47 from our first dinner, but a smaller handgun.

Alicia gasped and Dr. Matthews whirled around for a second. Nobody moved. Then he lunged for the GN.

I shoved the door open and rushed in. Alicia right behind me. Dr. Matthews grabbed the gun and pointed it at me, his hand shaking.

You, he spat. You did this. You turned my family against me.

Dad, put the Gian down. Alicia said, her voice surprisingly steady. This isn’t helping anything.

Stay out of this, Alicia. He snapped. This is between me and him.

I held up my hands, trying to look non-threatening. “Dr. Matthews, you don’t want to do this. Think about what happens next.”

What happens next is you disappear,” he said, his finger tightening on the trigger. “Just like that other boy. No one will even connect it to me. They’ll think you ran away because of the failed complaint.”

Benjamin, please, Mrs. Matthew sobbed. “Don’t do this,”

he ignored her, keeping the GN trained on me. “You should have just stayed away from my daughter. You should have known your place.”

“My place?” I repeated, anger suddenly cutting through my fear. “Is that what this is about? You don’t think I’m good enough for Alicia because I’m black or because I’m not rich or both?”

You’re nothing, he said. A nobody from nowhere who thinks he can marry into my family.

Dad, Alicia shouted, stepping in front of me.

Stop it, Alicia. Get out of the way, Dr. Matthews said, his voice suddenly uncertain.

No, she said firmly. If you want to shut him, you’ll have to shot me, too.

For a moment, I thought he might actually do it. His face was twisted with rage and alcohol, his hand still gripping the GN. But then something changed in his eyes, a flicker of doubt, maybe even shame.

That’s when we heard the sirens. Michael must have called 911 after all. Dr. Matthews’s head snapped toward the window. And in that moment of distraction, Mrs. Matthews lunged forward and knocked the GN from his hand. It clattered to the floor, and I dove for it, grabbing it before Dr. Matthews could recover.

The next few minutes were chaos. Police officers burst in, weapons drawn. There was shouting, confusion. Dr. Matthews was handcuffed and led away, still yelling about how I’d ruined everything. Mrs. Matthews collapsed into a chair, sobbing. Alicia held her while I gave my statement to the police.

By the time everything calmed down, it was nearly morning. Dr. Matthews was in custody, charged with assault, with a deadly wo, and making terroristic threats. The police were also reopening the investigation into Thomas’ hit-and-run death based on what they’d found in Dr. Matthews’ study. Maps, notes, even a damaged car part hidden behind some books.

The medical board hearing went forward as scheduled, but now with much more evidence. Jennifer, the retired nurse, testified about years of suspicious incidents involving Dr. Matthews, with him in Jay ill and facing criminal charges. Other hospital staff came forward, too, describing how he’d intimidated them into silence. In the end, the board revoked his medical license permanently.

The carinal cases would take longer to resolve, but Richard assured us that Dr. Matthews would likely spend years in prison between the assault charges and the potential vehicular homicide case for Thomas. It was over. Dr. Matthews couldn’t hurt anyone else.

In the months that followed, Alicia and I tried to rebuild our lives. It wasn’t easy. She had to deal with the trauma of learning her father was a monster. Not to mention the financial fallout of him losing his job and facing expensive legal battles. She moved in with me and we both took extra jobs to make ends meet.

Mrs. Matthews filed for Diverse and started therapy. She was slowly reclaiming the identity she’d lost during years of emotional absy. Jordan and the other victims formed a support group for people who’d experienced anesthesia awareness.

I joined too, finding that talking about it with others who understood actually helped with the nightmares and flashbacks. We even started working with medical schools to improve anesthesia protocols and patient advocacy.

The weirdest part was how normal life eventually became. Alicia and I still went to classes, still studied for exams, still argued about whose turn it was to do the dishes. We graduated on time, me with my biology degree and her with chemistry. We even went to a few college parties, though I never could drink too much without having flashbacks to the surgery.

A year after everything went down, I took Alicia to that same diner where we’d had our first date. It was the one where her dad had watched from across the street. It felt like coming full circle. The place hadn’t changed at all. Same cracked vinyl booths, same broken juke boxes, same greasy burgers, and two thick shakes.

Remember our first time here? I asked as we slid into a booth.

She smiled. Yeah, I was so nervous you’d notice my dad outside.

I did notice. I just thought it was a one-time thing.

She laughed. If only.

We ordered our food and fell into easy conversation about work, friends, normal stuff. It felt good to talk about ordinary things after everything we’d been through. As we were finishing our meal, I reached across the table and took her hand.

I have something to ask you.

Her eyes widened. right now. Here.

I nodded. This place is important to us. It’s where everything started. I pulled a small box from my pocket and opened it to reveal a ring. Nothing fancy, just a simple band with a small stone. It was all I could afford, but I’d saved for months.

Alicia Matthews, I said, suddenly nervous despite having practiced this speech a 100 times. Will you marry me?

Her eyes filled with tears, but she was smiling. Yes, she said. Absolutely, yes.

As we left the diner, hand in hand, I glanced across the street out of habit, half expecting to see that black escalade, but there was nothing there.