the big day (getting it) out

The comments in the last couple of posts were great to read, even though I didn't reply.

Yesterday, after a big breakfast I borrowed the bliss partner's car to drive to the hospital. The nurse asked me who was coming to pick me up, and when I said "nobody" she said "that's unusual". I didn't get where I am today without being unusual.

I found out that the insurance is picking up most of the tab, and I was only out of pocket $250! Where else could you lie around in a dress and no undies, among nubiles in nurse uniforms, without having to have sex?

They give you a room for the day and put you to bed. I had the whole day off work, and all these good people around me were looking after everything. There was nothing I had to do except do nothing. Indeed there was nothing I could do. Instead of switching on the TV, I spent the time more usefully. I lay on my back, and did the autogenic breathing exercises that worked so well the other day. After a handful of breaths I drifted into a wonderful warm half-sleep.

At times of stress the reptilian senses, like hearing, take over, and my awareness focussed on the melodious chirping mid-morning chat of the female staff in the distance. It was a very special feeling, primal even. When I was fully conscious again, I felt ready for an adventure.

In pre-op, when she found out I had opted for a local, the anaesthetic nurse asked if I wanted any sedatives, and I said "what have you got?" Thinking I was joking, she said "I suppose you'd like a whisky?" I said no, I really wanted to know what sedatives were on offer. The first one she mentioned, some kind of -azepam, sounded good so I said "I'll have that one." As she was getting the needle ready, I said "I'll still be able to drive home, eh?" I shouldn't have said that. They said I wouldn't be able to drive for 24 hours, so I told them to forget it, I'd do it straight.

In the theatre, they put me on the operating table, then they all went out and left me alone. I was able to get a good look around the room, more ramshackle than in the films. If I'd been sedated, I wouldn't have been able to lift my head off the table. Back when I was half my age and I had the original black spot op, I was well sedated on the table and when the anaesthetist said he was about to put in the curare, I was so cheery I shouted hooray for the curare.

Anyway, during the operation yesterday, with a wee sort of green tent over my head I couldn't see anything, but I could hear everything including the beeper connected to my pulse, quite slow and steady. I was able to chat to the main nurse, who turned out to be a big fan of Oor Wullie and The Broons. And from time to time I asked the surgeon what he was doing. He's built like a rugby forward, with massive doughy fingers. When he started in with the diathermy, a sort of soldering iron scalpel, he kept hitting a nerve and making my arm lash out at him. Bizarre.

His voice from above the tent explained that he was cutting out the lump but that it was joined to a nerve. I freaked a bit at this point. The type of black spot that I originally had is known to have a propensity, almost a desire, to spread along nerves, so this wasn't good news. My own nerves were suddenly shot, and the racing beep of the heart monitor announced to everyone in the room that I was spooked. It was a bit tough then.

The bonhomie in the room seemed to evaporate, and the stitching and bandaging proceeded in silence. Or that's how I remember it. The surgeon told me to come and see him next Thursday, to get the pathology results.

Back in my room, the room nurse told me how confronting it must have been to have no general and no sedation. She said she's too wimpy to even go in the theatre, that's why she works outside in the rooms.

The promised lunch never arrived, so I had to get up and find someone to complain to. If they're going to sell themselves as something special, they'd better expect consumer complaints. (Of course I realise that one should be just as pushy with public medicine and then things might improve). The replacement lunch came. I put the steak in my bag for the dog, and got dressed.

Back at home, to take my mind off my impending demise, I got out the old neck CT scan from 10 years ago, and found two image slices through the same area where I'd just had the lump removed. And there it was, I'm sure - the same size and shape of lump, ten years ago. Now that's a good sign. Everything's balancing up again - I've got one bad sign and one good. 50-50's good enough for me right now, though I may start to feel different as next Thursday the 13th approaches. I may have to meditate again.

After the day's excitement I slept great last night, and today at work I was on fire. The bliss partner has a full weekend planned, but I only have to attend one of the events, so it's looking good for some serious doing nothing, maybe even some more amateur blissage. How fortunate one is really.