Gloria brought me tea and toast in bed - what a treat! Then we were up and about, getting some cereal down us before getting showered and putting the last things into the overnight bag. Then, the best part - a micro enema. Gloria had asked if she could administer it - absolutely not! It was a little tube of stuff with a long spout that had to be inserted right up your bum and then squeezed - and keep squeezing as you pull it out. Did that and then sat on the loo and waited. It didn't take long ... about five minutes and all of a sudden my back passage was clear and sparkly. Then it was time for a shower.
I phoned the ward at the hospital to check there was a bed and they told me to come on down, so off we went at around 10am, arriving in super-quick time, unexpectedly as the traffic was light.
Once we found the ward - no mean feat in these complex hospital buildings - we settled in the day room. Gloria did have her laptop with her, but refrained from using it - a miracle! I'm sure it's just a comfort blanket. Not long after we were called through to the ward and I was settled in a bay with three others with a nice view over the car park. Can't complain - the other side of the ward looked at a wall and had the sun direct into their eyes.
Then began the repetition of all the things I had told them before: illnesses, allergies, what meds am I taking and so on. I reckon over the course of the past few weeks I have regaled this information at least five or six times and each time it has been assiduously written down by the interviewer - I'm obviously so fascinating ...
After about an hour or so, nothing was happening and I suggested that Gloria should go back home and get on with her work as she had a full schedule. I think she was probably grateful to get away as she had a tension between caring for me and making sure she fulfilled her work commitments. And so I waited.
By 1:15 I was thinking that I was not going to be called. I wasn't gowned up and I was working my way through my crossword. And of course, the inevitable happened - two scrubbed-up nurses arrived to take me to theatre. Whizz round the curtains, off with the kit, on with the gown and a dressing gown and then march off to the theatre with my two attendants. I was put into a little waiting area while they milled about - a large team for one of these jobs:
There's the radiology specialist - a cheery girl who lightened the proceedings well; a urological consultant, an oncology consultant, the anaesthetist - very brusque, but excellent at his job; anaesthetic nurse; and a couple of others about whose roles I was not certain.
The main players introduced themselves and some shook hands. Then it was me walking into the theatre, lying down on the operating table and being fiddled with by the anaesthetist. The cannula went in - ouch! - and he plonked my hand onto my chest, "Hold that there." Then he put a mask on my face, "And hold that on your face while I give you a little oxygen." Lying devil! After being instructed to take deep breaths, I did as I was bidden and ... the next thing I knew was I was back on the ward with Gloria looking at me.
So here I was, after a medical initiative that started with a simple blood test. And, God! I was hungry. It was then about 4:30pm and I wanted food, but first, drink some water. Throat was a bit sore, but not as bad as I have known it after anaesthetic. I could feel the catheter that had been inserted and Gloria kept remarking how quickly I was filling the bag. I'm famous for weeing great quantities and frequently - apparently, there is the reason. I make loads of urine!
Now, before I had gone down to theatre, one of the nurses had taken my dinner and breakfast order that I had filled in. She looked at it with her nose wrinkled. "Right, you don't want that."
"What?"
"Medium portion - you need large," and she scrubbed out my choice. "And you need some veg with that. What do you want?"
"Um, beans?"
"Yes - OK. And you don't want the fruit salad."
"Don't I?"
"No - too small and it's not fresh. Out of a tin."
"Oh. Right. I'll have the stewed fruit, perhaps?"
"Yes. Good choice. You want ice cream with that?"
"Er, OK."
"That's better."
So when my dinner arrived at around 5.30pm, I had a plate of sausage casserole the size of the Isle of Wight, a bowl of stewed apple and dairy ice cream - oh and some soup to start. And I ate nearly the whole lot. Just struggled a bit with the bread roll as I wasn't swallowing well.
Drinking water like there was no tomorrow and Gloria keeps checking the bag - "It's looking a bit full," and indeed it was. One and a half litres of the finest chardonnay, so one of the nurses came to drain it off.
And as the night progressed so did the filling thereof. But more of that in the next episode ... because by 9:30pm I had had enough and I needed my beauty sleep. Some hope ...
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