I find myself getting increasingly anxious about the needle biopsy, which is scheduled for tomorrow. I've read in one of the personal memoirs I checked out from the library (Stranger in the Village of the Sick, by Paul Stoller) about the author's own biopsy, which his doctor performed using only a local anesthetic. I’ve been told by the caller from the hospital who scheduled my procedure that I, too, will have only a local. I have visions of a surgical-masked doctor brandishing a huge hypodermic needle and saying in a simpering, Peter Lorre voice, "We are ready to puncture your abdomen now."
When someone else calls today to give me last-minute instructions, I ask her about the anesthetic issue. She assures me that I will be given "sedation," as well as a local anesthetic. When I press her for more details, saying the other caller told me I'd only have a local, she says that’s not correct. "We’re not vultures here. We’ll keep you comfortable."
Thank the Lord. I retire with much less anxiety about the next day.
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