The prep for anesthesia wasn't new for Conrad. Monitoring-electrodes on his chest, needles, annoying questions. Having seen it on patients many times and being in this unpleasant situation himself once or twice because of needing knee surgery due to an bike accident made him rationally believe he knew what was coming. But he had totally forgotten about the feeling being in such a vulnerable position.
From the outside you always thought it was an easy way to go. But when you lay back on this table, saw all sorts of equipment, heard the sounds, felt the helplessness of the situation, you brutally felt the fear of giving up control to someone else.
Having a colleague on his table let the usually quiet and inconspicuous Dr. Chu only be even more thoroughly in his routine. Everyone in the clinic knew Dr. Hawkins. And the experienced anesthesiologist did not miss the elevated heart rate in combination with a low blood pressure which, according to experience, was accompaniing an unpleasant dizziness and anxiety in the chest. The usually over the top active, running and generally being all over the place resident must be feeling awful being stuck on an operation-table.
Paul Chu could see how much self-control it cost the young doctor to lie still and let the anesthesiologist do his job. His heart seemed to beat out of his chest, as Dr. Chu startet his routine. He was aware that Conrad deliberately tried to calm his breathing and with that slowing down his heartbeat.
A warm hand settled on Conrad's shoulder. He opened his eyes and looked up into Pauls sympathetically smiling face.
"Don't worry, Conrad. We take good care of you."
Conrad swallowed hard and nodded
"I know."
The sharp pain in his gut made his face pucker, sending his heartrate to a new top.
Dr. Chu understood: he turned to the already open door of the OR and proclaimed with a for him unusual loud voice:
"Guys, we have to get started here."
Turning back to Conrad he said softer:
"I´m going to let you sleep now, Conrad. You can relax. In a minute the pain is gone."
He took hold of the propofol-injection, slowly pressing the substance into his patients bloodstream.
Conrad felt the liquid like burning ice in his vein and could barely answer "Thank you," before darkness and silence seized him and he slipped into deep unconsciousness.
