Since the summer, my right hand has been going numb, and I drop things – books, paintbrushes, silverware, glasses. This morning I had carpal tunnel surgery. The surgeon repeatedly mentioned it was a quick surgery – 15 minutes tops. She asked if I wanted general or local anesthesia. For only 15 minutes, I didn’t want to endure the fogginess that general anesthesia brings on, sometimes for days. I chose local.

As we entered the waiting room, she asked what music I’d like during the procedure. I chose the Hamilton soundtrack, which has gotten me through so many difficult situations before. A large needle with local anesthesia was injected into my right hand, and I went numb almost immediately. As “The Schuyler Sisters” played, I sang loudly, “We hold these truths to be self evident, that all men are created equal, and when I meet Thomas Jefferson, I’m gonna impel him to include women in the sequel. Work!” The tech told me to sing it, sister (something I’ve never heard before, and was encouraged by). They washed me in an iodine solution, and began to position a drape between my arm and my head. “Oh, no, no, no. If I’m going to be awake, I want to watch.”

The drape needed to be there for hygienic reasons. And, she said that with each step, they would raise the drape so that I could see what was happening. I felt the incision, more like pressure than pain, and didn’t feel anything else. I asked why I didn’t feel blood spurting everywhere (I expected this after cutting into my wrist), and she said there was something in the anesthesia to stop the bleeding, and she had cauterized me. I had not smelled the singe of skin, so that surprised me. And, I was impressed.

She snipped, and dug, and snipped some more. The incision was held open by forceps (what a wonderful tool, forceps), so it appeared more like a rectangle than a slit. She cut the ligament, to create more space for the nerve. She explained what she was doing, and where, as she did it. I saw the finished result, a lovely opening where my nerve could move freely.

She then explained they would flush the wound, and I felt ccs of saline injected and expunging. I saw the freshly cleaned wound, and she began stitching me closed. I admired her stitches, and then she began the work of bandaging me. It felt excessive (much like Randy in A Christmas Story being bundled up to go outside in the cold), but I didn’t object. I wiggled my fingers, and she told me we were done. How lucky I am to witness such a procedure.