The weekend was always going to be fairly uneventful, I had accepted I was unlikely to be on Mill Lane much. My plan was just to keep myself entertained and wait for the operation to come around on Monday.
Fortunately the weekend involved quite a few visitors, some of the judo boys came around, a group of my school mates from home made the trip up, and a few other mates who live near enough by all came for a chat which kept me occupied for the best part of the weekend. Especially through Sunday evening which would have otherwise been a very tedious affair.
My brother was coming to visit around work and we managed to take control of the TV room for an evening, pity there was nothing good on TV but it was nice to be out of the hospital bed for a few hours at the very least.
Sure enough, I was woken in the middle of the night by my immediate bed neighbours having circulation problems and then again by bed beeping soon after, but then again it could have been worse.
A nurse appeared just after 6am to get me prepped for the operation. First up was a shower. Luckily I was allowed to conduct this by myself and didn’t need her to join me at any point. Although she did seem to enjoy the task of putting on my compression socks… That did worry me slightly.
Having taken all the required meds and gone through various pre-op checks for consent etc I was allowed to have a small nap before operation time. Such a treat!
As I laid there trying to get a rest I was struck by the conversations some of the fellow patients were having with nurses. These men were in their 80s and some were suffering from slight delirium as well as their physical problems, and yet they were constantly polite. Very thankful for everything that was being done for them and never skipping a please or thankyou. I’ll be very happy if I am that much of a gent if I am in that situation in my later years.
At around 9:20 I was wheeled out of the ward and down to surgery. On the way I enquired about the chances my surgeon would have been through a BTEC Hair and Beauty course but was informed it was unlikely. Guess I’d just be hoping for the best with this shave job then.
The anaesthetists set me up and put me to sleep, and then I was waking up on a different Neurology ward. I have brief memories of the surgeon appearing and saying the operation went well, of nurses taking observations and of my parents making an appearance, but for the most part I just drifted out of consciousness and back in occasionally.
Luke popped around in the night and we had a chat while I ate a few chicken wraps, which was a relief as I had been worried that it would be a repeat of my last operation and I’d lose a stone due to the lack of appetite. Can’t be going back to square one with the gains* can I!
*I use the word gains in the loosest possible terms, I’m only 68kg at the best of times