A Beautiful Place

The pain had gotten worse and my doctor recommended surgery. She said it was the only way to deal with the growths even though they were benign. “You’ve already waited too long. No reason to deal with unnecessary pain.” I knew she was right. And yet . . .

I wasn’t as concerned about the surgery as I was about the need for full anesthesia. In the past I’d woken up as sick from it as the procedures. No need to describe the graphic details. In the past, nothing I’d said to the anesthesiologists helped. This time, when the anesthesiologist introduced himself, I told him how terrible I’d felt afterward. “Is there any way you can help me not feel sick after?” 

“We do what we need to do.” Not very comforting.

A nurse came in for the final preparation. She noticed how tense I was and assured me the surgeon was good and I had nothing to worry about. 

“I’m not worried about the surgeon. I’m sure she’s good at what she does.”

“What are you worried about? The surgery is straightforward, nothing complicated.”

“I don’t do well with general anesthesia. It takes days to recover from it, harder than dealing with the pain from the surgery. At least painkillers help the pain. Nothing helps the effects of the anesthesia.”

The nurse listened. That helped a little. She finished her preparation, then said, “If you do what I say, I guarantee you won’t feel sick after the surgery.”

I stared at her. “How can you guarantee how I’ll feel afterward, given my experience?”

“Because no one ever told you what I’m going to tell you.”

“What’s that?”

“I want you to close your eyes and imagine yourself in a beautiful place, where you feel safe and comfortable. Imagine what it takes to get to there, what it looks like, how it smells.” I had no idea what this had to do with recovering from anesthesia but I did what she said.

“Tell me about the place you imagined.”

Feeling more than a little weird, I said, “I walk on a mountain path to a meadow. It’s full of flowers.”

“What colors?” she asked. 

Oy! “Blue and yellow and pink and white . . . lots of different colors.”

“How do they smell?”

“Sweet.”

“Okay. Is this a place where you feel safe and comfortable? Where you can relax?” I nodded, wondering what the hell this had to do with anything.

“I’ll be in the operating room. When I tap your arm, I want you to visualize your beautiful place and keep seeing and smelling and feeling how good you feel for as long as you can. If you do this, you’ll wake up with no aftereffects from the anesthesia. Guaranteed.”

I couldn’t see how visualizing something would keep me from feeling sick when I woke up but I agreed to do it. When I felt her tap my arm, I began to see the flowers and . . .

The next thing I knew I was in the recovery room. No sickness. Huh!

When I needed surgery again, I remembered what she told me to do and I did it. No sickness. 


When have you been guaranteed an outcome that contradicts your experience?