Op day number two

After a somewhat restless night's sleep, I was up cooking breakfast porridge by 6.45am this morning, under instruction from the hospital to eat before 7.30 in preparation for afternoon surgery. I walked to St John's in the drizzle to celebrate the ten thirty Eucharist with seven others, and Clare was waiting for me in the car outside afterwards to take me to Llandough hospital. I arrived at day surgery Reception half an hour early and waited even longer than last time to settle on a ward as it was pretty full with the morning's intake.

I was shown into a waiting room and my registration details checked, a little later. I was interviewed by Magda the anaesthetist, who checked my medical history and reviewed last time'snuse of anaesthetic. Then we fell to chatting. As I was wearing my cross, he felt free to tell me he was an Egyptian Coptic Christian and treasurer of the South Wales Coptic church community with its base in an old church building in Risca. What a delightful conversation!

It was nearly one by the time a bed was free on the surgical ward. More interrogation, changing into theatre gown and pants, then a conversation about the operation plan with  Mrs Cornish the surgeon, followed by two hour's relaxed siesta, against the background sound of nurses coming and going and talking with patients before and after surgery. Several of them had come in for carpal tunnel surgery it seems. It was gone four by the time I was wheeled to the lift and taken up to theatre, sedated and worked on. By ten to five I was back on the ward again, given a cup of black coffee and a round of chicken sandwiches and allowed to recover.

Clare arrived to collect at half past, but I wasn't ready for discharge until ten to six. She'd cooked a delicious chicken soup for supper, and despite the coffee and sandwiches in hospital I felt hungry and ate with relish. No post anaesthetic nausea or hangover. An inspection revealed I'd been dressed with a large loose absorbent pad. It wasn't uncomfortable and I wasn't in pain. How very fortunate! A wound inspection revealed that the Seton's sutures had been exchanged for a single, much finer one serving the same purpose. I was delighted at how comfortable sitting became, despite having a new vertical incision intended, I think, to drain remaining fluid trapped in the area around the first fateful puncture wound from August 31st.

Once again tonight feeling mildly elated, extra glad to be alive and no longer inwardly tensed up, awaiting the return of discomfort and pain from the pressure of sitting for more than half an hour. No analgesics were given me to take, and if I had received intravenously any during the op, they would have worn off by now, I'm used to being careful and avoiding undue pressure on an open wound site. I guess the elation could be an aftermath of anaesthetic, but I'm not sure that would lead me to add the Te Deum to the recitation of Evening Prayer!

Another milestone reached on this tentative trip into the world of modern surgery with all its delightful dedicated inhabitants, and so thankful to all who looked after me.