Surgery Day

6am, 12 May, 2016. Reluctantly I get out of bed, after waking up every hour on the hour since 1am. My head is clear as mud. Dragging my tired body to the bathroom, this is the last time for a few months when I can take myself to the shower unassisted with both my pins firmly on the ground.

I am having my bunion surgery today.

6.30am. Still pitch dark outside, we hurriedly jammed the knee scooter into the car, after failing to fold down the handlebar. We have to get to the hospital by 7am for admission.

7.15am. Paperwork over and done with. We sit down in the waiting room where there are already 20 or so other people waiting for their surgeries. I scan the room to count the overnight stayers like me by the sight of overnight bags. I try to guess what surgery each person is having but I’m not getting any clue. No crutches in sight, only my lonely knee scooter parked in the corridor. We wait.

8am. Bored our of my mind and slightly sleepy, I try to stay awake for the call of my name. Suddenly I hear “John Howard”. Now I’m wide awake. Poor bastard, I’m thinking, to share the same name as the former prime minister of Australia. I crane my neck to see what this guy looks like as most other people in the room are doing. A familiar looking grey haired man in a suit with no tie stood up in the back row and walked toward the announcer. It was indeed THAT JOHN HOWARD!!! I immediately speculate what he is here for. Perhaps a hip replacement as a result of too much walking in his morning walks? No,  it can’t be. No overnight bag and definitely no Janette. It’s gotta be a minor day surgery.

8.10am. V is in the loo when my name is called. I panic a little but quickly gather myself and my belongings and be led into the ward. Upon instructions I get out of my clothes and into the hospital gown and into the bed. I am told specifically not to mistake the paper undies as a hat. I gulp and secretly give thanks for the warning…

8.30am. I am lying in bed, in the waiting room next to the operating theatre. It will be my turn next in there I’m told. The aneathetist sees me briefly and gives me a pre-op drug. In the mean time one of the theatre nurses for my surgery is doing some restocking and general tidying up of the waiting room. We chatted here and there. Then she leaves the room. I listen to the random banters in the operating theatre. Laughters ring out every now and then. It must be fun to work with a team like that, I think to myself as I drift in and out of drowsiness. Then I hear it. Loud and clear. No mistake. It is the sound of a GRINDER!!! Not just a brief grind, it whines and wails like a petulant toddler. I am completely awake now with eyes the size of a saucer!

Some time before 9am. I am being wheeled into the operating theatre. Watching the ceiling changes its terrain, I finally spot the surgical lighting. I get shifted to the operating bed and before I can count, I am out like a light.

Some time after 1.30pm. I open my eyes to this view…

This same view remains for the next 2 days, with a change of bedding. I will learn how to get out of bed and go to the bathroom. But for now, I must rely on others to do my bidding.