Personal Narrative: The Waiting Room

This weekend I got my tonsils out, it was not a pleasant experience at all. Friday morning was the time of the procedure and I was convinced that everything was going to go perfect, I would feel comfortable and recover in no time at all. The only reason I would not be at school, was because I simply don’t want to be there, not that I am in so much pain that it hurts to talk and it doesn’t seem to get better. The waiting room at surgeons was offly small with only ten chairs. When my parents and I get there there was another man in his twenties and a woman in her thirties with her three year old son. It wasn’t too long until they took me back to a room with two chairs, a recliner,a row of tall yet thin tan lockers, a small table, and machines to calculate blood pressure and pulse. I entered the room and my first problem began, the nurse told me that I had to change into the gown. It really shouldn’t, but this completely ticked me off. Very often I don’t feel comfortable in my own clothes and this revealing gown caused my anxiety to skyrocket. I stared at the ugly, light blue gown sitting on the table for a minute or two before slipping it on over my shirt, but willingly took my pants off. I …show more content…
As soon as I laid down, the gown was pulled out from under me, so it draped across me. The nurse and anesthesiologist hooked me up to many different things as I stared straight at the white ceiling above. I concentrated on nothing except for box breathing, using my left hand to count the breaths in and the breaths out. My teeth were grit and I was completely tense in general. The nurse tried to talk to me to calm me down, but I ignored her, just focusing on breathing. She would ask if I was okay, everytime i replied with a harsh ‘fine’. Finally they put the mask over my face, I kept staring at the ceiling and using box breathing until it all