The different types of anesthesia are broadly described as: Local anesthesia (agents, either topical or injectable, given to temporarily block paın in a specific part of the bødy) in which the medication only removes sensation from one part of your bødy, but you are not unconscious. Regional anesthesia (injected agents, to numb a portion of the bødy) General anesthesia (an agent, given either by mask or an IV line, to induce unconsciousness) General anesthesia is highly effective in keeping you unaware of your surgical procedure. Monitored anesthesia care (also known as "twilight sleep") It can be given intravenously (IV, by injection into the vein). The medication works quickly and typically puts you to sleep in under a minute. Medicines administered via the bloodstream begin to take effect quickly, often within minutes. Most people feel very relaxed at the start of IV sedation as the medicines begin to take effect. Many people remember the feeling of relaxation and waking up after the procedure is over but nothing in between. There are different levels of IV sedation, and you may or may not be awake during the procedure. Your anesthesia team will adjust your sedation level throughout the procedure. One other type of anesthesia apart from general is called MAC (monitored anesthesia care), where you are kept sleepy and given paın medication but still breathe independently. Anesthesia can provide sedation ranging from slight (relaxed and mildly sleepy) to deep sleep.

\\\\\\ _________________ / \ [|--O-O| / \ | | | ] | __/ / | | _ _\ _o_\_ \_________________/ | | |*/ ## \ /\ / |/ | \ \ ________________ \__________________/ / |____\ _|_| /\ @@@@@@ \ \_______+/ == \ \ @@ -- @@ \ |*|*****/__/ \ \ @@@ > @@ \ |*|********_____ \ \ @@@_\ o/_@@@ \ |**\_________ \ \ \ @@/ __@@@ \ \************|\ | \ \ | \_/ =/ | \ \***********|| | \ \ \ ___/__ / \_ ** || | \ \ |\\\\\\\\\\ \_ ** \|__|__ \ \_\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ \_ ************ |#####] \__\_\_ \\\\\\\\\\ \_ / \_\_ \\\\\\\\\\\ \_ / \_\_ {_} {_} \ |_________\ \_______________\ \/_______________/

"We removed Plankton's wisdom teeth. He's still asleep, you can stay with him." Said the oral surgeon to Karen. They've just finished and lead Karen into the room. Plankton is lying in the hospital bed, his face a mask of peace, the only signs of the recent surgery being the gauze in his mouth and the drool seeping out the side. His cheeks are slightly swollen, and she wonders when he'll wake up. The doctor said it could take a while. The IV line snakes up his arm. Karen pulls a chair up beside the bed. She takes his hand and holds it gently, feeling the warmth of his skin contrast with the coolness of her own palm. The room is sterile, the air conditioning humming steadily in the background. The faint smell of disinfectant fills the space. She looks around the room, noticing the monitors beeping in rhythm with Plankton's breathing and heart rate. The nurse comes in and checks the machines, making a few quiet notes on a clipboard. She smiles at Karen, "He's doing well. Just let him sleep. It's the best thing right now." Karen nods, squeezing Plankton's hand slightly, willing him to feel her presence. She wonders what dreams he's having, if any, behind his closed lid. Time seems to crawl as Karen watches him sleep. She tries to read a book, but the words blur together. Her thoughts drift to their lives before this moment, their shared laughter, their arguments, the quiet moments of understanding. Her gaze lingers on his swollen cheeks, his chest rising and falling with each breath. A soft groan escapes his lips and his eye begins to flutter open. Slowly, Plankton comes to, his vision blurred by the anesthesia's last hangover. He blinks, trying to focus on Karen's face. She sets aside her book and smiles at him, her screen welcoming him back to the world of the conscious. "Hi," she says softly. "How are you feeling?" Plankton makes a sound that's somewhere between a whine and a grunt. His eye wanders the room before finally settling on hers. "What...what happened?" he slurs, the words barely audible through the gauze. Karen's smile widens a bit. "You had your wisdom teeth removed, remember?" He nods slightly. The nurse reappears, checking his vitals again with a gentle touch. "Time to go home," she says, removing the gauze. They make their way out of the hospital, Karen supporting Plankton gently as he stumbles, his legs still wobbly from the anesthesia. The sun is setting, casting long shadows across the parking lot. Karen helps Plankton into the car, buckling him in and adjusting the seat so he can lean back and rest. He nods off almost immediately, his breathing evening out as the car starts and they pull away from the hospital. The drive home is quiet, Plankton's snores punctuating the hum of the engine. Karen keeps glancing over, checking on him, her concern etched into every line on her screen. The pain medication is strong, keeping him in a half-awake state. Each time he wakes, he looks around, disoriented, before his eye finds hers and his expression relaxes. Once they arrive, Karen guides him to the couch, his body feeling heavier than ever before. He slumps into the cushions and she grabs the ice pack from the cooler. "Hold this to your cheeks," she instructs, placing the cold compress against his skin. He nods obediently, his eye already glazing over with the promise of sleep. The TV flickers on, its blue light washing over the room. Karen finds a sitcom they both enjoy, hoping the familiar laughter will ease his pain and keep them both company. But Plankton's snores soon overpower the TV's audio, his head lolling to the side. She smiles, knowing he's in a deep slumber, and covers him with a blanket. The house is eerily quiet except for the steady tick of the clock on the wall. Karen moves around the kitchen, preparing a soft meal for when he wakes, her mind racing with thoughts of what the next few days will be like. Plankton's recovery will be slow, but she's ready to take care of him. She's his rock, his support, and she'll do anything to help him feel better.

Go to TwoSentenceHorror r/TwoSentenceHorror 16 hr. ago mag2170 The procedure was a success and yet, I feel like my concerns on the trial are b-being sup...suppr... The procedure was a success.

ᶜᵃʳᶜⁱⁿᵒᵖʰᵒᵇⁱᵃ ⁽ᶠᵉᵃʳ ᵒᶠ ᵍᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᶜᵃⁿᶜᵉʳ⁾‧ ᶜᵃʳᵈⁱᵒᵖʰᵒᵇⁱᵃ ⁽ᶠᵉᵃʳ ᵒᶠ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗ ᵈⁱˢᵉᵃˢᵉ ᵒʳ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗ ᵃᵗᵗᵃᶜᵏˢ⁾‧ ᶜˡᵃᵘˢᵗʳᵒᵖʰᵒᵇⁱᵃ ⁽ᶠᵉᵃʳ ᵒᶠ ᵉⁿᶜˡᵒˢᵉᵈ ˢᵖᵃᶜᵉˢ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᴹᴿᴵ ᵐᵃᶜʰⁱⁿᵉˢ⁾‧ ᴴᵉᵐᵒᵖʰᵒᵇⁱᵃ ⁽ᶠᵉᵃʳ ᵒᶠ ᵇˡᵒᵒᵈ⁾‧ ᴹʸˢᵒᵖʰᵒᵇⁱᵃ ᵒʳ ᵍᵉʳᵐᵒᵖʰᵒᵇⁱᵃ ⁽ᶠᵉᵃʳ ᵒᶠ ᵍᵉʳᵐˢ⁾‧ ᴺᵒˢᵒᶜᵒᵐᵉᵖʰᵒᵇⁱᵃ ⁽ᶠᵉᵃʳ ᵒᶠ ʰᵒˢᵖⁱᵗᵃˡˢ⁾‧ ᴺᵒˢᵒᵖʰᵒᵇⁱᵃ ⁽ᶠᵉᵃʳ ᵒᶠ ᵈⁱˢᵉᵃˢᵉ⁾‧ ᴾʰᵃʳᵐᵃᶜᵒᵖʰᵒᵇⁱᵃ ⁽ᶠᵉᵃʳ ᵒᶠ ᵐᵉᵈⁱᶜᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ⁾‧ ᵀʰᵃⁿᵃᵗᵒᵖʰᵒᵇⁱᵃ ⁽ᶠᵉᵃʳ ᵒᶠ ᵈᵉᵃᵗʰ⁾‧ ᵀᵒᵐᵒᵖʰᵒᵇⁱᵃ ⁽ᶠᵉᵃʳ ᵒᶠ ᵐᵉᵈⁱᶜᵃˡ ᵖʳᵒᶜᵉᵈᵘʳᵉˢ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ˢᵘʳᵍᵉʳⁱᵉˢ⁾‧ ᵀʳᵃᵘᵐᵃᵗᵒᵖʰᵒᵇⁱᵃ ⁽ᶠᵉᵃʳ ᵒᶠ ⁱⁿʲᵘʳʸ⁾‧ ᵀʳʸᵖᵃⁿᵒᵖʰᵒᵇⁱᵃ ⁽ᶠᵉᵃʳ ᵒᶠ ⁿᵉᵉᵈˡᵉˢ⁾

The Red Wristband A doctor was working at a hospital, a hospital where the patients were tagged with coloured bands. Green: alive. Red: deceased. One night, the doctor was instructed to get a few supplies from the basement of the hospital, and so he headed to the lift. The lift doors opened and there was a patient inside, minding her own business. Patients were allowed to roam around the hospital to stretch, especially those who have stayed long. The rule was to be back in their rooms before ten. The doctor smiled at the patient before pressing the number for the basement. He found it unusual that the woman didn’t have a button already pressed. He wondered if she was heading to the basement too. The lift finally reached the floor where the doors opened. In the distance a man was limping towards the elevator, and in a panic the doctor slammed the elevator button to close. It finally did and the lift began to ascend back up, the doctor’s heart pounding. “Why did you do that? He was trying to use the lift.” The woman stated, annoyed. “Did you see his wrist?” The doctor asked, “It was red. He died last night. I would know because I did his surgery.” The woman lifted her wrist. He saw red. She smiled. “Like this one?”

r/TwoSentenceHorror 21 hr. ago buddybuddyboi "Aaaand, cut!", the director exclaimed. I don't know how many pieces of me they need, but they continued to chop me into pieces.