Where Did I Go?

I blatantly acknowledge my overwhelming aspiration to write, to put to pen, an inky synapse of some increment of time that would perchance cause someone to pause and actually contemplate what was implied or conveyed. An esoteric thing that is only seen by the inter eye, the animas, that turns ones thoughts towards the unconscious or subconscious of an individual.

Last week I had a partial knee replacement procedure and I am now recovering nicely at home. I am of the age that I can now opine laboriously about the numerous medical procedures I have endured but there is nothing worse than old people talking about their aches and pains so I will not burden you with such drudgery.

I am also of the age that I wish to share. I am a cowboy poet and have quite an anthology of literary pieces. Yea! It’s time to recycle some of the old stuff that I have archived. The following is a contemporary poem that I wrote long years ago after having survived open heart surgery.

The Sacrifice

By Thomas Gregory Moore

A doom transfixes my soul

As I wait in somber solitude.

Patronizing priests attend me,

Garbed in their crisp ephods,

Scribbling sanctimonious platitudes

Upon papyrus with their egret plumes.

My litter carried thru temple crypts

By un-tongued and muted slaves,

Past sallowest idols, thru great portals

Ere I reach that cold grey altar,

Solitary under a silver dome

Of inverted crystal goblets.

I am lifted and offered up

As a living sacrifice to the Gods.

My arms splayed and bound

Eerie red rubies pulsate

Vein like vines entwine me.

I feel my pulse quickening.

I fight the urge to flee,

To scream and careen heedlessly,

To escape my pending doom.

Imagining the knapped flint descending,

My disgorged heart held aloft

Glistening wetly in the Mayan sun.

Eyes from behind veiled masks stare

Down into my withered soul,

My blood drained into miniature vials.

Will they never have enough?

Oblivion! My essence fled, my soul in limbo!

Aaah! I’m awake, Have I been pardoned?

My death mask is removed,

A bitter taste, vinegar and gall,

I am robed again in warmth.

Have I been ransomed?

I am soon spirited away

Down indiscernible colonnades.

In my dazed stupor I see

Flashing lights passing overhead

Figures in blue and green pass

A Whiteness! Solitude! Where am I?

Pavilioned curtains are pulled aside

I open my eyes and perceive

My beloved Queen as she enters

I am safe! I smile!

The light of my countenance glistens

In wet teary streams.

I have pondered the circumstance of being anesthetized. I make reference to the enigma of it, in that we dream in our sleep or in a dazed or drugged state but not when we are put under anesthesia. It would seem that our souls are murdered because we recollect nothing of the time we are under. Our consciousness only returns upon awaking when we are in recovery. Where did we go during the operation?

I have heard of people having an “out of body experience” in that they were above it all, looking down upon their bodies, as the doctors or surgeons worked on them. I personally have had several near death experiences and in all of them I could recall my thoughts during the events. When you are anesthetized, the scenario it is different. The last thing you remember is “count backwards” or “I’m going to give you something to relax you”. In the next moment you are regaining consciousness via a hazy stupor in the recovery room.

What does the anesthesia do besides immobilize the body? It deadens your body so that you feel no pain. It’s an inhibitor blocking neural impulses. It kills you in a sense or does it frighten you so much that you flee your body only to return when it’s safe.

I will reiterate that I think or it is my opinion that we are not our bodies. My body is made of elements that are billions of years old and can be used for basically anything. Matter can neither be created nor destroyed, only changed in form. I am not matter, I am a force, just like gravity and radiation. I have no mass. I am a spirit. I am of the ether or The Fifth Element.

Yea! This is a little deep. My mind is working all the time, even when I am asleep, sorting and cataloging what I saw, heard, smelled or felt during the day. It is vivid when I dream or even day dream. It’s active when I have been knocked unconscious. I suppose it is still active in people who are in a coma being there is an EKG or brain activity. The exception is anesthesia, when there is nothing in between, just a blank. Complete oblivion! Obscurity! What happened to me, the one that dreams?