I was transferred to another hospital for the surgical procedure.  I was met by a technician who said his name and stuck out his hand while looking the other way.  Then I asked him to stop standing on my intravenous tube.  When it was time to go into the operating room, he snatched away my blanket with so violent a jerk that it would have ripped out the intravenous insertion if I had not by now been on high alert.

Once in the operating room, I was placed on a slab with my arms flat at my side.  Medical equipment loomed above, posing an impressive threat.  I was not supposed to move.  My nose chose that moment to itch.  It grew more and more intense.  For a time, nothing existed but me and that itch.  Then I understood I couldn’t fight it.  I just had to live with it until the procedure was over.  At that point, the itch disappeared.