“The room was massive in size. The walls were white. In actuality, the walls were light gray but they were painted white by the overbearing bright lights that shined from above. Calling this room sterile would be an understatement.

Two large monitors were staring directly at me from across the room. They had yet to be turned on. I assumed they were used to display all of my vitals during the procedure. There was a wall to my right that was dedicated

to latex gloves and masks. The wall adjacent had plastic bins, which were marked with many words that I struggled to pronounce. Foreign machines

stood to the left of my bed. It took me a few moments to realize they were the machines that would keep me alive. 

My analysis of the room was cut short when the Anesthesiologist stepped into my line of vision holding a large syringe. I was accustomed to seeing 5 mL syringes when my nurses would

inject me with my diuretics and narcotics. This syringe was triple in size and filled to the brink. “Are you nervous?” asked the Anesthesiologist. “No,” I

replied, “but I’ll take what’s in there,” I said jokingly. He laughed and quickly

pushed the mystery fluid into my veins. I felt a rush of heat consume my chest as though the drug had ripped through my heart. In a matter of three

beats, the warmth shot through my arms and legs. Every limb and every inch of my body was soothed with pulsating heat. I smiled. The room blurred

and began to spin. The room wasn’t bright anymore, it faded to gray. The tan nurse looked at me with squinted eyes. The room went black.