My turn to be Florence Nightingale

I'm not nervous

Two years ago I sat in a waiting room, it was the day of my ovarian drilling. I was nervous but hopeful for the future and what it would bring, not much as it turns out. Well today I sat in another waiting room as GO had a tooth extracted. We arrived early (7.30am, his appointment was at 9am) to find a parking spot. My plan was once he was in the OP room I'd sneak out to Gregg's and grab a bacon sandwich. He was called in and as I picked up my things to go the receptionist called, "You can't leave, you have to stay here the whole time". 

Oh!

He's not very good at waiting

I fiddled with my phone and just as I was getting restless I heard, "Mrs GO". It had only been ten or so minutes. I felt cold, had something gone wrong? Had they cancelled it? "Oh, he's fine" the nurse said, seeing my face. "It's all done he's in recovery."

He was so confused

She led me to a side room where GO was lying down, he looked sleepy and had cotton wool rolls stuffed in his mouth.  As he came round a bit more he began to ask questions and make jokes, which was hilarious in itself but as his mouth was packed with cotton it's was a muffled (more so than normal). It was about then that he heard the heart monitor beeping, within seconds he was trying to dance to it like some Euro Techno music. By this stage I was crying with laughter, but trying not to let anyone now as the nurse was giving me serious aftercare instructions.

Dancing to his own heartbeat

I managed to walk GO to the car and we set off back for home. The closer we got the sedation started to wear off, I nipped into the supermarket on the way home to get some bits for him. I picked up some baby food, as it was soft and packed with nutrients. 

He is now tucked up in bed, snoozing. I have the security camera set up so I can keep an eye on him.

Tucked up safe and sound

Get Well Soon Ginger One xxx

Drilling Day

Friday 6th June the day of the drilling arrives.

We arrived at the hospital twenty minutes early, in the naive belief that the earlier we got to the hospital the earlier I would be seen.

I was sorely mistaken,we waited and waited, getting hungrier and hungrier. (On a side note how cruel to give toast to one patient when the rest of us were famished). Four hours later after I had been measured for the glamourous anti thrombosis stockings, I made my way to the theatre.

In the anaesthesia room, I lay worried that the anaesthetic wouldn't work and I would be conscious the entire procedure.

"You should start to feel a little bit drunk."  I started to shake my head to disagree...

Next thing I know I am being rudely awoken from the best dream I've ever had (can't remember it though).  

"How are you feeling?"

"Nooooooo, that was such a good dream!"  At that moment everyone in the room was my enemy. 

As I slowly became accustomed to my surroundings, I felt the most enormous irritation on my face.  My nose was so itchy I could have ripped it off my face. 

"My nose is itchy. MY nose is itchy.  MY NOSE IS ITCHY!"  

"Oh that is normal."  

In a haze of anaesthesia I was wheeled back to the ward to begin my recovery.