A week ago today I found myself sitting in front of an anaesthetist.<\/p>\n
I listened, keenly, as he checked my medical history.<\/p>\n
Then he told me, in cool detail, what he was going to do.<\/p>\n
Five different anaesthetics.<\/p>\n
Yummy!<\/p>\n
The nurse reappeared as he left to scrub up.<\/p>\n
‘Is he any good?’<\/p>\n
‘He’s the best I’ve worked with in 23 years. If I had a family member undergoing surgery, I’d want him as the anaesthetist’<\/p>\n
‘Fair enough’<\/p>\n
‘Are you ready?’<\/p>\n
‘Yep’<\/p>\n
‘Good. Follow me’<\/p>\n
This was something new.<\/p>\n
In all of my previous surgical encounters I’d been unconscious on arrival at the hospitals.<\/p>\n
I walked out of the pre-op ward, through the double-doors, a litle way down the corridor and followed the nurse through another set of double doors.<\/p>\n
Straight in to the operating theatre.<\/p>\n
As requested, I hopped up on to the operating table.<\/p>\n
The anaesthetist asked how I was doing, and then fitted the cannula.<\/p>\n
‘Do you drink?’ he asked me.<\/p>\n
‘Hardly ever’<\/p>\n
‘You’ll feel like you’ve had quite a bit, in a minute’<\/p>\n
A minute passed and he was right.<\/p>\n
The surgeon walked over and said hello.<\/p>\n
The anaesthetist fiddled with the cannula attached to the back of my hand.<\/p>\n
‘That will feel very cold’<\/p>\n
Man, was he right!<\/p>\n
‘Before the cold has spread past your elbow you’ll be asleep’<\/p>\n
He was right again.<\/p>\n
I slept.<\/p>\n
I woke just as I was being wheeled in to my private ward.<\/p>\n
I felt fine, but let’s put that in context.<\/p>\n
When I was sitting in front of the anaesthetist a couple of hours ago, I felt fine then too.<\/p>\n
I felt fine last week.<\/p>\n
I felt fine last month.<\/p>\n
I felt fine last year.<\/p>\n
Here’s the history.<\/p>\n
More than a handful of years ago, I was in North Wales for a weekend break when I had a painful attack of trapped wind.<\/p>\n
The wind passed after three eye-watering hours, during which I briefly contemplated stabbing my chest with a sharp object, to release the cause of the pain.<\/p>\n
Fortunately a sane inner voice talked me out of it.<\/p>\n
A couple of years later I had another, very brief attack, and decided to seek medical advice.<\/p>\n
I went to my GP who poked, prodded, listened, and asked questions.<\/p>\n
I was diagnosed with… trapped wind.<\/p>\n
Well that was unexpected.<\/p>\n
Not.<\/p>\n
The GP gave me some ‘sort your stomach out’ pills, and that was that.<\/p>\n
Fast forward to modern times where,\u00a0after a big round of blood tests which led to an ultrasound scan, I was diagnosed with a defective gallbladder.<\/p>\n
In the late post-surgery afternoon, the consultant walked in for a chat.<\/p>\n
He wasn’t very complementary about my former internal organ.<\/p>\n
It was, apparently, half full of gallstones, completely full of pus, and severely infected.<\/p>\n
And I’d felt fine.<\/p>\n
My gallbladder was in such a poor state, it had taken the surgeon three times as long as normal to remove it and tidy up.<\/p>\n
No, really, I’d felt fine.<\/p>\n
I was released from hospital early Tuesday evening, wearing\u00a0four nice new holes in my abdomen.<\/p>\n
I also had a carrier bag full of a range of different medications.<\/p>\n
I strode purposefully out of the hospital, eager to get home.<\/p>\n
Don’t get me wrong.<\/p>\n
Every single member of staff at the hospital was brilliant.<\/p>\n
Skilled, professional, compassionate, good communicators, approachable, and yet no-nonsense.<\/p>\n
They were all excellent.<\/p>\n
I just wanted to be home.<\/p>\n
So, one\u00a0week after my surgery, how’s it going?<\/p>\n
It’s going pretty well.<\/p>\n
The first few days (and nights) are a retrospective blur.<\/p>\n
I thought I was fine; thought I was in full possession of my faculties.<\/p>\n
Thought that I was ticking over on minimal medication.<\/p>\n
Last night I spoke to a couple of people about the week just ended, and that’s when I realised I had lost 48 hours.<\/p>\n
Those first two days and nights at home had become a single, hazy event, in which I had no grasp of time.<\/p>\n
I couldn’t tell you what things had happened on which days.<\/p>\n
That’s a little bit spooky.<\/p>\n
Anyway.<\/p>\n
I’m on the mend.<\/p>\n
I haven’t needed any morphine since Sunday.<\/p>\n
I’m due back at work on Wednesday next week.<\/p>\n
I plan to be off all medication by the end of this week.<\/p>\n
I miss doing things, and I’m going a bit\u00a0stir crazy.<\/p>\n
But I haven’t stabbed anyone yet.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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