Day at the Spire

At last my fourth surgical appointment at The Spire private hospital in Pontprennau, courtesy of NHS outsourcing of a small number of day surgery cases to ease demands on Llandough at this critical time. Clare drove me there for an eleven fifteen start, but we were there by eleven. There's a special 'Green Zone' reception area for those who have completed full quarantine requirement and are infection free on other counts as well. In the entrance lobby there was a staff member with a big thermal imaging device which scans incomers at a three metre distance, before they can approach the reception desk. 

Once I'd been checked in, I was escorted to room 211, equipped to look after individual patients, and then went through the familiar routine of giving my name, address and date of birth to each person who came to interrogate me, first the lady who organises post-op refreshments, two nurses, the anaesthetist, and finally Mrs Cornish the surgeon. All were masked and in uniform and came at intervals over a two and a half hour period before surgery started. In between times, I paced around the room for exercise and to relax during a wait which continued until half past three.

I walked, escorted to the operating theatre to be prepared for surgery, then the next thing I knew I was in the recovery room feeling surprisingly awake. Mrs Cornish came and told me about what she'd done. In our pre-op chat I admitted that my expectations of this one being the end of the affair, as I felt certain the bout of infection had caused further problems, and I was right about that. She had identified a small pocket of infection, excised it, removed some of the obstructive over-granulation around the wound and changed the Seton's suture. 

There'll be another op in three months time, and before that a MRI scan to check if there's anything else hiding within. There's no certainty of complete healing in the long term anyway, but rigorous scrutiny before finally removing the suture and closing the wound improves the odds. The next op is planned to be in Llandough again. I imagine the pandemic crisis has required the hospital trust to improve facilities for day patient minor surgery with its own covid-secure zone and staff.

I was wheeled back to my room on the trolley used for the operation and was able to transfer myself to the bed. I was feeling find, with no noticeable pain, but my blood pressure was still sky high, so I had to wait an extra half hour until it reduced to a less worrying figure before the nurse would discharge me. 

I walked out of the front door at ten past seven to be met and driven home by Emma's husband NIck. Once it was clear that I wouldn't be discharged until after dark, Nick was asked to collect me, and kindly agreed. It was great to have a chance to chat with him. Clare had a lovely supper waiting on the table for me, and some hugs and kisses to welcome me home.

Looking forward to being able to walk in the park again tomorrow, hoping that the anaesthetic aftermath doesn't leave me too tired and lethargic to breathe fresh air again. I may not be fully repaired, but I get a physical feeling that the wound is going to be easier to live with while I wait for round five after today's outing to the Spire.