So I had the operation - well, this is purely an assumption on my part because I had been asleep for a while, but someone must have done something because my lower back was bloody sore - and I was taken back to Side Room 3, where I had begun my surgical adventure the day before. I had a drip connected to my right hand and one of those nose clip thingies which I never realised before was to supply oxygen; and we used to watch Casualty – tut!
I was initially provided with a bottle to pee in but, worryingly, it was constructed of egg-box cardboard and the nurse told me to press the call button as soon as it had been used, otherwise... well, the consequences don’t bear thinking about. As if it wasn’t bad enough having to try and defy gravity by using the damn’ thing, while I was fumbling beneath the sheet with it, I accidentally pulled the drip needle from my right hand; for an instant, I did wonder where all the blood was coming from. So, fresh sheets, gown etc. I might have been forgiven for thinking it would be quite nice to be sponged down by a nurse; not so, although it might have been because there was another nurse there at the time.
She took the bottle (by this time, I had persuaded them to give me a decent plastic one – gravity still presented a problem, though) and, as she crossed the corridor, I heard her shout to her colleague “I’ve taken his bottle – thousand mil!” I wondered if this was a record for I could think of no reason for mentioning it other than the existence of some kind of competition.
Apart from the old feller further down the corridor shouting “Great Britain!” and “No, get back!” at the top of his voice, the buzzer at the nurse station going off every few minutes (this was immediately adjacent to Side Room 3), the nurse coming in to do “obs”, the raging storm and the inflatable slippers, it was very peaceful.
Inflatable slippers? Ah, yes, these are innovative devices which fit over your feet and are designed to prevent DVT by inflating and deflating constantly, very much like the armband on a blood pressure machine.
The best thing about my hospitalisation? Morphine.
3 comments:
Christ dont die on us Nige! Sounds like my dad's ward! Let them get you home first, at least.
And leave off the morphine
A
Just before your bed-bath, did you ask the nurse why she bothered to knock?
You'll laugh about this one day!!
The shouting will be quoted ad nauseum at family gatherings/meetups and other serious events.
Simon had inflatable leggings when he had his hip op!
Jane
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