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
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