Sunday, 16 March 2008

step 09: the surgery at last

Monday 3rd March:
Sprang out of bed at 6.00, strangely I am really looking forward to getting there and having the surgery done, can’t wait for it to be over. The way I see it, as soon as it’s done, I’ll be recovering. Plus I won’t resemble a small block any more I hope. Hooray. As I don’t fit into any of my clothes, I am washing and wearing the same things over and over. I refuse to buy lots of clothing to fit this big stomach – which, by the way, now resembles a 5 month pregnancy, is rock hard and gets in the way when I try to cut my toenails. Grr.

Sloped around the kitchen madly guzzling as much black coffee as possible before the 7.00 curfew – had to stop all food at 12.00 the night before, and only clear liquid from then on [no, no gin allowed girls]. Nothing at all after 7.00, not even water! Jumped in the car at 7.30 to arrive early at the ward with my little bag stuffed full of books, the faithful Nintendo [by this time my family had handily supplied more games! cool]. Supposed to be there at 8.00. Puffed the last ciggie on the way there - I felt like I was on my way to jail. No smoking, no eating, nothing. Oh well, it won’t be for long, as I have been training my brain to think of only drinking, eating and walking as soon as I wake up.

As soon as you can drink, eat etc. you can lose the catheter and the epidural. Sounded good to me. The other thing in my mind was that IF there was no tube down my nose, that would also be a good sign, as it would mean no major bowel issues.

So, get on the ward, have the first of many blood pressure checks, and extraction of blood for testing [I am convinced they drink the stuff - how many tests can you DO on one persons blood anyway??]. Renninson arrived with a posse, to see if I had any questions, my only one was ‘when am I going in?’, and was duly informed that I was 5th on the list. So, about 12.00 noon I’d be in. An hour later it changed, as a diabetic woman had to be put forward [hardly surprising, as by this time I was ravenous and I imagine it’s much worse if you’re diabetic]. Andrew managed to secure a coffee and a bun in the cafĂ©, I carried on starving away in the ward. No food, no water AND no fags?? Rather trying!

Eventually got my smashing hospital nighty thing at about 12.30. Climbed into that, after doing it up the wrong way ten times I finally succeeded in getting it so that my derriere didn’t show. Another blood pressure check. Things get a bit hazy about here. Went to the theatre on foot with a stripy nurse. Waved goodbye to Jones at the lift, felt a bit tearful then and I was crying in the lift. We went up, he went out. I felt like running after him. But toddled off with Nursey instead.

Arrived at the theatre and no-one would let us in! Lunch time for anaesthetists apparently! Hung about in the corridor in a suspicious fashion until eventually a severe Nurse person arrived and got them sorted. In we went. Jumped onto the little steps and climbed onto the bed [looks like a big slab, and is definitely washable!]. One more blood pressure check, and ‘My what good oxygen levels you have dear’ [this always happens, as they think all smokers are suffocating in their own blood or something]. Massive great stab in the back of my hand, which had to be beaten half to death for a vein to show it’s face, in went the dreaded cannula. Then a discussion about my nails with the anaesthetist, which dissolved into tears [I always do this going under – it’s a control thing I reckon] and then…

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