Thursday, 24 December 2009
THE LONG NIGHT OF THE SOUL
I had expected the night before surgery to be long and tortured, I had been called in early for a blood tranfusion but whilst we were there; the blood was not. It was going to be an eight hour infusion and the blood did not arrive until midnight. But once I was connected up I was surprised that whilst I did not sleep very easily (the infusion not allowing me to get into a comfortable position) calmness came quite easily and was not infected by spectres and Heeby-Jeebies.
I found that the next morning became progressively more frightening as the process unfurled itself. Interestingly I found that I became slightly less able to cope when Clare was there. The familiarity and love being so close, but unable to "save" me.
The anaesthatist came to talk to me, asking many questions:
Any loose teeth?
Etc, a fairly long set of questions. Then it was a case of explaining anesthesia and post op pain relief. I opted for PCA (Patient Controlled Anaesthetic - or was it analgesia?) for after the op. By this time I was getting some bad nerves and was sweating considerably.
The surgeon arrived, wearing a bow tie and introduced himself as "Shanks"
I was in what my Dad's generation would have called "a terrible funk".
I was first on the list so with hardly any time to orientate or re-orientate I was off on the journey down into the dark.
There was a kind of waiting room that was just like a car-park. Here there were a number of people lying on beds, presumably in a state of panic as well, maybe not? I was blind with fear anyway.
I tried to remember the experience of hypnotherapy and started to breath deeply and think of Dad. A woman loomed over and introduced herself as "mickey" and she informed me that we would be walking the last bit. So I got off the bed and walked with her.
She said I would forget her, that everyone does. But I have remembered. She was called Micky and she had red hair.
Next I was in the anesthetic room. A needle was put in the back of my hand and ....