Aesthetic anaesthetics

In retrospect, I would have been a damn good beauty therapist. Always had a thing for a pimple. And zero tolerance for a blackhead. Learnt the four basic steps very early ... cleanse, exfoliate, tone, moisturise. And soon after, the fifth very vital step. Sunblock, sunblock, sunblock.

As a kid I would scrutinize my family's faces. Any blemishes were totally unacceptable and all attempts were made for instant eradication. The only problem was that they always bitched and moaned. This would so upset me! I would dream of giving them some potion to get them to zip it and lie still so I could do my thing properly and in peace. Perhaps that was the tiny subconcious seed which led to my walk down anaesthesia lane many years later? Who knows....

I only truly realised the potential of a mute and immobile subject in my second year of medical school. Anatomy dissection. You either willingly donated your body to science, or science claimed your body if nobody else did.

Our cadaver was a middle-aged hobo, found on the streets. It's sad I know, but at least he had company for a whole year. Five of us sat around him for hours everyday, chatting to him and learning from him. We even missed him over weekends.

One such day, we were dissecting the foot. I got bored. Only so many bodies can sit around a foot, so I moved to the head for a break.

I looked down at his yet undissected face and wondered about him ... his life ... the family that hadn't claimed him.... Without even realising what I was doing I ran my gloved fingers over his face. Almost in a formalin-induced trance, I gently began extractions on skin which had never been exposed to the five vital steps....

When I realised the magnitude of the subcutaneous muck, I grew bolder and more determined to give him the best facial ever. After all, he had given us his entire body, it would be the least I could do in return. No-one should ever have to leave this earth without experiencing a decent facial. Plus, and this was a major plus, he didn't complain.

The foot with its tendons, nerves and arteries became a distant haze, as I concentrated on the task at hand. To this day 'tis the body part I know the least about ... the foot ...

I barely registered the horrified reaction from my mates, and when they insisted upon my "getting help", I realised. They just didn't understand, and never would.

I managed to sort of suppress my aesthetic urges for some years, but they surfaced with a vengeance in my second year as an anaesthetic registrar. It was 3am, we had been busy with a vascular case for a number of hours and still had a few hours to go. Some silly teenager had put both his fists through a glass panel and severed just about everything ... tendons, arteries, nerves ... a full house.

He was healthy and cruising, steadily. I was falling asleep.

In an extremely weak moment, I put my head down on the pillow next to his, just for a second mind you ... but that was all it took.

Zits galore!!!!!!

My sleep-fogged mind went on instant alert as I formulated my plan. A pair of sterile gloves, a pack of sterile gauze, some hibitane scrub, followed by hibitane in alcohol, and finally chlorhexidine cream. Perfect!

I surreptitiously got to work. Luckily both the floor nurse and runner were too busy fighting the powers of unconsciousness, to pay any attention to me.

Pop after pop, sleep was forgotten, the length of the operation was forgotten, all that remained was the multitude of zits in differing stages of development, and the sounds from my monitors. Two and a half hours!!! That's how long it took to clean his face! Two and a half hours of intense facial therapy, and absolute BLISS!!! Antibiotics had been topped up intra-operatively so we were covered from that aspect too.

I thought he looked fabulous when I was done. Young, clean, fresh, with a beautifully glowing skin.
All the vital steps had been followed, down to the very last one. Yes, by then I was in the habit of carrying around some sunblock. So Mr Teen, got it all!! For free!! And it looked really good!!

As I was peeling off my gloves, the surgeon drily asked if the patient had signed consent for my procedure. What procedure I thought?? This was a duty to humanity, not a procedure!
Nevertheless, I felt nervous enough to visit the patient the next day. He thought that perhaps anaesthesia must agree with him, cause his skin had so miraculously cleared up. I left it at that.

With no complaints to date, years down the line, I tirelessly continue to fulfill my duty to humanity. And enjoy every second of it!!