I recently experienced anesthesia for the first time during a coronectomy to extract my lower wisdom teeth.
Unlike sleep, where consciousness fades gradually, my memory of that day is fragmented, as if my mind had been edited with missing frames.
I don’t recall entering the hospital, being put under, or even my doctor commenting on my small veins—which, in my mind, translated to, “Do you even lift?” Given that I love hitting arms, I just got extra motivation to hit them even harder.
One moment, I was there; the next, I was waking up to the unsettling sound of a saw buzzing through my mouth. Instinctively, I twisted my leg, a reflex to signal pain, before drifting back into the void (I assume they adjusted my dosage).
The next time I regained awareness, gauze was stuffed in my mouth, and a nurse was guiding me to the recovery room.
The entire day exists in my memory as a blur, disjointed, and incomplete.
I hardly recall getting home or the nap I took afterward. Maybe it’s the abruptness of it all. With sleep, at least there’s a conscious surrender into unconsciousness. But anesthesia, much like being knocked out, is an enforced absence, a sudden severance from reality akin to an abrupt power outage.
My face was swollen like a balloon the next day, and I have been on that liquid diet regimen since then. Smoothies and soups have been the norm, with occasional trips to porridge city.
I had my first date with solid food yesterday. It was scrambled eggs sautéed in butter with salt and pepper, which took me an hour to complete.
My doctor advised avoiding the surgical sites, so I nibbled cautiously with my front teeth, occasionally invoking my palate to mash the food.
This experience made me realize how much in life I take for granted and to learn to appreciate the small things that I have access to on a daily basis, like the simple act of chewing.
We often journey through life chasing after what we perceive we lack as a means of acting on our inherent discontent. While this isn’t bad in itself, we risk blinding ourselves to the everyday blessings bestowed upon us that help us function and sustain our existence.
We risk getting caught in cycles of longing for future treasures while ignoring the gifts existent in the present moment, at times failing to recognize when we have enough.
What further impedes this is our inclination towards negativity bias. Even in the present, our minds naturally gravitate to negative stimuli, allowing them to weigh more heavily on our emotional scale than positive ones.
And in this state, we often miss out on the basic utilities that help us get through the day.
This could be something as simple as walking, seeing, or even the simple act of drawing a breath. As simple as they are, there are countless people in the world to whom these are great luxuries.
When you are in a dark place and it seems like the sun has forsaken you, your mind can become a prison. It could trap you in negative thought patterns, plunging you into self-criticism and endlessly reminding you of life’s unbearable weight.
Even in the midst of dark moments, when everything seems to be crashing down, remember that your brain is simply trying to solve problems. It’s a tool, one that can be trained to recognize and retain positive experiences.
And these could be simple things; they don’t have to be grand for you to acknowledge them.
It is helpful to write them down. In doing so, you help your brain to notice the good despite the bad.
You train yourself to summon your own light when the sun refuses to shine its own on you.
And in the darkest of nights, the brighter are the stars.
That despite all, you have this moment.
This breath.
This opportunity to enjoy that thing, whatever it may be to you.
At times, it takes an experience of loss to remind us how blessed our lives are. But it doesn’t have to be that way.
Although we may be doomed to endlessly tread the hedonic treadmill until our last breath, we can still carry with us those little moments like precious stones, and draw strength from them.
That said, I can’t wait to sink my teeth into crispy, solid food once I am fully back.