Op-day, liberation at last.

I went to bed early but didn't get off to sleep until eleven. I woke from a very short dream in which I bit on a juicy tomato which was tasty and slaked my thirst. It's the first time I can ever recall tasting something in a dream. I'm no stranger to hearing identifiable music, voices and physical sensation while dreaming, but identifiable taste, not just the word associated with a taste is different. And curious.

I was out of bed and having a shower by six fifteen, stepping int a taxi at ten to seven. The driver told his sorry take of being scammed over a smartphone purchase, Somehow a crook intercepted communication between him and him phone company, or else he got diverted to a malware look-alike site. He lost both his new phone and some money, although his bank reimburse some of his losses. I hate on-line purchases and shopping as you have to be so much more vigilant than you do when you the goods and vendor in a real life store.

I arrived at ten past seven, but couldn't get into the building until the surgical staff arrived at seven thirty, so I did a complete 2km circuit of the hospital ring road, and  stopped at a place where there was a view to say Morning Prayer. Later, while I was waiting for surgery, third in Mrs Cornish's list, I overheard the nurses debating the length of the building. One of them googled and learned that Llandough has the longest hospital corridor in Europe, at 1km. 

Mrs Cornish came by for a briefing beforehand, but afterwards a nurse discharged me. For the first time in five operations, I was allowed to walk to the operating theatre now relocated next door to the pre-op ward. The out-patient surgical suite has been reorganised since my last visit for op number three. You no longer have to be taken on on a bed in the service lift to get to theatre. It was one by the time I returned on a bed, more than an hour under anaesethetic, and then another hour before I was discharged by a nurse, once my blood pressure was low enough to be deemed safe. At last I'm rid of the Seton's suture, as planned. I'm on antibiotics for the next five days. Initially, the pain was more than I was expected, but the more I walked about, the more relief from pain I felt.

Jacquie drove me home, accompanied by Clare, who'd gone over to her house mid morning. There was a lovely and much welcome fish soup for lunch. The hospital offered post-op cheese sandwiches only, so I had to make do with a cup of coffee until we got home at three. The hospital wound dressing detached after I arrived. It was a relief, as it was thick and pressuring the wound repair. I wasn't bleeding so I used a much slimmer clean dressing instead, with a couple of ibuprofen tablets to curb the inflammation. This made such a difference that I went out for a walk in the park. 

This helped curb the pain, but drew rebukes from sister in law Ann who thought I should lie down, take it easy and rest, as I was taking too much of a risk by exercising so soon. Well, I felt better for movement, rather than struggling with discomfort unable to sit or lie comfortably without pain. The risk paid off. The concern is something to do with the use of adrenalin in anaesthesia to curb blood flow. When I came round after the op, I felt bright and clear, as if I'd awakened from a long refreshing sleep. This is regarded as an adrenalin 'high'. When it ends it may do so suddenly and cause you to faint. No sign of me fainting! 

I felt relaxed and well enough to watch tonight's episode of 'Rocco Schiavone' live, and felt naturally tired towards bed time, and pain no worse than what I've been used to after too much or too little bowel movement. Tonight I'm feeling quite relaxed, having turned a decisive corner in my two year open wound ordeal. I may pay the price for my 'hyperactivity' tomorrow, who knows? It was worth it just to express the sense of freedom I feel as I turn in for the night