Had a really vivid dream last night that I was in hospital getting another operation. Major 'phew' moment then when I realised I was still firmly in my own bed with the cat keeping my toes warm.
Seems a lifetime away now since I was in there getting the pesky diseased bit of me removed.
I have always been a fairly squeamish person (taken from my dad who can't even be in the same room when I talk hospitals), however now I wish I could have seen the operation being done and that bit of my insides that was causing me so much bother. Weird? I'd say so, but it's amazing how all that squeamishness goes out the window when it's your own body it's happening to. Plus the fact that I went to 'sleep' in agony and woke up what seemed like only a few minutes later feeling great! Albeit out of my tiny mind on drugs..
I was pretty cool about the whole operation thing - my Mum and Aunt took me to the hospital on the morning of my op and my mum was very anxious and on the verge of losing control of her faculties at any given moment, so I tried my best not to let her see I was feeling the same but times by 100.
After they dropped me off I was whisked away and put through my paces with various tests (they did most of the checks the previous day) and several nurses and doctors ran through what would be happening. I tried my best to take it all in but the nerves started to build and build. My op was scheduled for 8am but as the other women waiting with me were only in for "minimal procedures" and I was "the main attraction", they wanted to leave to the end. Flatterers ;)
I didn't end up getting taken until around 3 in the afternoon. Cue lots of daytime TV and gossip magazines. Hard to concentrate on 'Cash in The Attic' though when the thought i'd soon be getting part of my body removed was firmly in the forefront of my mind. Much as I was thrilled that the Jones family from Bristol had enough crap in their attic to afford a trip to the Maldives, a part of me (probably the naughty diseased part) also wanted to have them all killed, looking at their smug faces, them quite happily jetting off to paradise without a care in the world while I sat in a hospital gown 12 sizes too big (I only weighed 6 and a half stone at this point), dreading the door opening.
After that I can't remember much else - I tried not to allow myself to think too much about what was actually happening, just smiled and nodded my way through the various instructions I was given and the tubes and needles being inserted into me. When the nurses took me through to the operating room I started to feel anxious, I remember a nurse ticking off a checklist of questions- he asked me if I knew what op I was about to get - I panicked as I couldn't remember the medical name for it, as if somehow he'd say "Wrong answer, Sorry!" like some mad game-show host and they'd wheel me back to the ward showing me a scar I could've won. Thankfully I passed and was soon drifting off into a drug induced haze.
Next thing I remember is coming round and being handed a phone to call my nearest and dearest. Spoke to my mum first, can't remember what we said to one another, remember her sounding a bit emotional and frazzled. Then spoke to J, can still hear his voice saying "hello!" - he obviously was expecting my mum to have maybe called and not me. Sounded so happy to hear my voice and his voice is the only solid thing I can remember in about 24hrs. He's kind of like ointment on a burn to me, when I'm stressed he has an amazing way of putting me at ease. Truly the apple to my crumble :)
Anyway I digress.. The op was successful and after I was moved from high dependancy the nurses were keen as mustard to get me moving. I actually laughed out loud at the nurse who came over 1st thing in the morning suggesting I sit up. She came back later in a tag team with another nurse clearly styled on Hulk Hogan to exact her revenge. A few incredibly painful minutes later and several prolonged squeezes on my morphine drip and I was up and about. Well at least sitting up straight anyway.
But thankfully all of the above wasn't an elaborate dream and actually happened, meaning I now feel much, much better. Hopefully now that's out of my system (literally) I can go back to dreaming about the usual girly things like fluffy kittens, high heels and periods. Zzz...