I woke early on the day designated for my op. I had stayed in hospital the previous night; saving myself and Roy a 3.5 hour trip at 4am from Kintyre.
He had carried my bag to the door of the hospital, gave me a huge hug and a kiss then stood watching as I turned and walked in on my own. I was anxious, more for him driving home alone than for myself. I made him promise to let me know when he was at our usual “pit stops’, so I could imagine his progress. I looked over my shoulder as I reached the reception desk - he was still there. He gave me a wave and a lovely smile and disappeared from view as the receptionist asked me my name. I felt very emotional, being there, facing this alone.
I needn’t have worried. Well not too much, the staff were fantastic!
I had starved from midnight the night before, as I cleaned my teeth in the en-suite bathroom, I sipped a tiny drop of water off my toothbrush.
Showered, with none of my usual fripperies: no body lotion, jewellery, make-up, Arghh! I did contemplate drawing my eyebrows in, I mean, who would know? My eyebrows had been plucked to non-existence in 1976 and have never really recovered. I donned my sexy backless hospital gown and sat on the bed and read my kindle book.
Nurses bustled in and out, my blood pressure was sky high - betraying the raging anxiety beneath my calm exterior. Then Mr D arrived. He put me at my ease, jocular and reassuring.
“You will be sore for a few days, rather like you had been kicked by a horse. There will be lots of bruising, but that will fade and in a week’s time you will be well on the way to enjoying your nice new hip. Now, I need to mark the leg” He pulled a felt pen from his pocket - “Your right leg, please” He drew a big arrow on my thigh. “Just to make sure we don’t do the wrong one eh? Right, I’ll see you in the theatre.” A smile and a wave and he was gone.
A short while later, I was on my way, being wheeled along corridors and in and out of lifts. I was pushed into a corner in a room that I presumed was the recovery room. Everything was as spotless and modern as any hospital should be. Medical staff milled around wearing masks and scrubs, all very chatty and cheerful. I heard music occasionally as doors swung open and shut. A friendly face with a podgy nose, squeezed by his mask appeared through the curtain.
“Hi Judith, I’m Alan, I’m one of your anaesthetists today. I’m going to be looking after you, and will make sure you are comfortable throughout the procedure. We will be putting an anaesthetic into your spine, and then we will sedate you, so you are nicely asleep.’
“I won’t hear any drilling and hammering will I?’
He laughed, “No, you’ll be out completely.”
“Like Gin and tonic then?” (Why do I talk such tatie ash?)
“Much better than that! The good thing is that the spinal anaesthetic will carry on working for a few hours, so you will be quite comfortable this afternoon.’
He flicked through my notes, and looked up “I see you’re a singer, what sort of music?”
“All kinds, blues, rock, country - mainly Americana”
“Are you online?”
“Yes, I have 3 albums online, plus a few odd singles, including a disco track.’
‘Wow, I’m going to have a listen.” He stood up. “Ok, we will see you in a couple of minutes. Don’t worry, you’re going to be fine.”
I was next! EEK!
My trolley was wheeled down a corridor and into the operating theatre. Several surgical staff were waiting, one of them introduced herself as being from Ulverston, in Cumbria, my home turf.
I was laid on my side, my leg lifted sideways into a sling or something, I couldn’t see what. A green curtain appeared. Jesus, here we go!
“Sharp scratch Judith, are you ok?’
‘Er, I suppose so.’
“I’m just popping this into your hand”. Alan was sitting next to me: “Right here’s your gin and tonic”
‘Just an old sweet song, brings Georgia on my mind”
My eyes flickered open. Where in God’s name am I? And who is that singing like me? I blinked hard a few times. Shit! I’ve woken up in the middle of surgery. I need more of that gin!
A kind face appeared. Alan. “Hi Judith, we’re just finishing up now, you’ll be back in your bed soon.”
“She sings like me” I managed to mumble
“That’s because it is you, we’ve listened to your music all the way through the operation.”
“Wooooow!” I hadn’t felt this high since ... well it was a long time ago!
The green curtain came down. I must have been moved onto my back, although I have no idea how. Next thing I knew I was snoozing in recovery. I heard words like Paracetamol Long tec. Short Tec.
Mr D and Alan were in front of me. I can’t for the life of me remember what they said as I drifted off again.
Soon I was back in my room. I had something over my face, blowing a gentle breeze of cold air.
A nurse appeared in my field of vision.
“We will need to keep you on oxygen for 24 hours, are you ok?’
I think I nodded, then closed my eyes.
“Would you like some tea and toast?’
“Can I have coffee and brown toast please?’
In the blink of an eye, there was coffee and toast and I was sitting up. I demolished it. I hadn’t eaten since 7pm the day before.
Mistake!
I felt very, very sick! I pressed the buzzer. A nurse appeared instantly
“I feel sick”
“Ok, do you want me to get you something for that?”
I nodded, I felt better.
She came back with what looked like a papier-mâché bowler hat.
“I can get you some peppermint tea if you don’t want any drugs”
‘That sounds like a good idea”
It wasn’t!
Have you seen the exorcist? Yeah, that! Plus, I hadn’t been for a wee for hours and couldn’t feel my lower half, so...
I felt so sorry for the poor nurses cleaning up after me.
A couple of hours later the feeling started to return and I needed a wee. I pressed the buzzer, and a small army appeared. “I need a wee’
A commode appeared. I was gently swung round so my feet dangled off the side of the bed.
“Are you ok? You have gone very white”
“I think so”
I was helped and supported to my feet, and lowered onto the commode.
I pointed at the bowler hat and squeezed my lips together with my fingers.
At least this time I didn’t need a full change of bedding and another sexy backless gown.
I had a drip of fluids and something to stop me being sick plus more painkillers going into my left hand.
I was totally exhausted and felt absolutely bloody awful. But as Scarlet O’Hara once said:
“Tomorrow is another day”.
I felt your pain
ReplyDeleteOh gosh that lot made me wince xx
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