The needle slips into the arm
just above the wrist, it is
a bringer of pain, a bringer
of relief from pain, it is cold
under the now tepid blanket.
The nurse, ever cheerful, says
it is time now, raises the bed rail
and the anesthetist presses gently
on the plunger of the hypodermic
and the drugs ooze slowly into
the patiently waiting vein.
As they wheel you down the hall,
transfer you to the procedure table,
you are fully present, both
the patient and observer, and in
your Versed mind you are at once
omniscient and unknowing.
You are left to later read
the surgeon’s notes to finally know
what you unconsciously
consciously experienced.