In browsing the archives as I’m wont to do, I came across an oldie but a goodie:
http://www.straightdope.com/classics/a990226.html
…and I thought, that’s happened to me! Twice! Though I was not entirely paralyzed…
The first incident was when I had my wisdom teeth pulled. They were all impacted, and so the dentist suggested I have “laughing gas”. I had never had it before, and didn’t know what to expect. The assistants gave me some gas, and I sat, reading a magazine, waiting for something to happen. After a few minutes, they asked how I was feeling, and I said that I was feeling a little funny, but fine. They joked that I must be drinking a lot at college (I wasn’t) and let me have the gas for a few more minutes. Then the dentist gave me a few shots of novocain, and started digging away. He cut down to the teeth, and then pried at them vigorously until they broke loose, leaning most of his weight down on my jaw. It was incredibly uncomfortable. I was groggy initially, but became increasingly aware, and aside from the blessed numbness of the novocain, I could feel everything. However, I felt very slow and disoriented, and couldn’t move. I was able to talk, but not well, even without the hands and tools in my mouth. I tried to tell them that it hurt quite a bit, and they gave me more novocain, but that didn’t really help with the brute force he was applying to my face. I began to cry, but then finally realized that I was going to have to just sit through the rest of the procedure. Later, I found out that most people are lucky enough to sleep through the procedure.
The second time this happened was during my heart surgery. Fortunately for me, it was just a catheterization, up through my femoral artery, rather than waking up with my chest wide open. It was actually a rather pleasant experience. I drifted in and out throughout the procedure, and was able to talk, which seemed to make the doctors very nervous. Every time this happened, the doctor in charge asked them to give me more drugs (intraveneously), and at one point commented, as had the dental assistants, that I must have built up resistance through extra-curricular activities at school, which was not the case. I’ll admit, I was not a teetotaler, but certainly could not have built up that kind of drug tolerance. I could see the catheter in my heart on the x-ray monitor above my head, and commented on how interesting it was. Because it was just a catherization, with local anesthesia where it was inserted, I didn’t feel any pain there, but I did become very stiff and uncomfortable, and told them so, and they moved me. The procedure was to correct a rapid heartbeat, and they had to induce this in order to find the problem area, and when they did, I woke up and said, “Oh hey! It’s happening!” They said, “We know. We did that on purpose. Please hold still.” They then gave me more drugs and I slept again until they were done.
I think it’s interesting that, in the column, it was said that some people may have some kind of immunity to anesthesia. I wonder if this is my problem. The doctors took me for some kind of junkie, but in fact, it’s rather the opposite: the few times I have taken any drugs recreationally, my reactions are usually much less pronounced and wear off much faster than other’s reactions. But I find that I get drunk very well, thank you very much, so that’s okay by me.