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Tuesday, 22 February 2011

Any moment

Clare brought me the phone and mouthed the word “hospital” at me. I took the phone and said hello. It was Fitch’s secretary. Did I want the operation on the 17th  of any-moment-now. I gulped a couple of times like a fish in a net. This had come out of the blue. Seems to be the way round here.  

I looked at my diary and realised that my final two days of training as a Hypnotherapist would be in the way, but perhaps I could get round that. Also I had been waiting to be put in touch with someone who’d made the journey through J pouch construction.

Martin, of Number Twos has ceased his legendry transmissions from the front line. I had not met anyone. I felt that the 17th was too soon. I needed – need- a bit more information.

I had imagined that despite two ops, and a bit of time, I was going to be fixed and as good as new. BUT then I read the forums, and scanned the net. And I realised it’s not that simple.

I did find someone to speak to on the phone who has been through it all. A very nice man with a gentle voice, and refreshingly un evangelical in either direction.

What shall I call him . . . ?  Mr Jay’s description of life on the other side seemed to fall short of the ruddy duck I was –am- hoping to be. He said he was glad he’d made the decision, and gone ahead with it, but there was sand in the Vaseline.

"Butt Burn", a diet of pasta and potatoes, limited appointments with Bacchus (it’s nice to see him occasionally), eight bog stops a day.  .  . He did point out that forums tend to be a bit of a self selecting commentary box. . . but nevertheless. . . I realised that there are advantages to life with Banquo. An insight in itself.

Is it vanity that drives me to be prepared to submit to the masked man in green pyjamas a further two times? I’m not sure I know the answer.

Occasionally, not often, Banquo will shake his gory locks and embark on an unscripted soliloquy. He does occasionally protest at quiet moments in certain films, and has once or twice tried join in with a hypnotism. Mostly though, he keeps his council.

I don’t want to pollute your mind with uncalled for imagery, but even I sometimes want to anoint my body with scented oils, slip into something more comfortable, turn down the lights, slip a little Mantovani onto the turn table. Advance upon a lover like Lesley Phillips. That’s part of life isn’t it. I might one day, want to actually get a tan on the French Riviera, or sit around a pool sipping a long cold drink in nothing but budgie-smugglers and a smirk.

I wasn’t planning to start performing in the nude, or join a nudist colony. 

But . . . Do I want to spend the rest of my existence in this un-natural state? 

Then again . . .

Do I really want “butt-burn”? Do I really want to be bog trotting 8 times a day again? Do I really want to live on a bland diet of pasta and potatoes for the rest of my mortal?

I agree with Mr. Jay; if you are having a wonderful life, and everything is fine, there is no motive to post on a forum or write a blog. The result is that most of the information and first hand reportage I can find, is actually a bit off putting.

I would really like to find someone with a positive experience of reconstruction. If I find a few I will be happy to have the knife, you see. 

There must be examples out there. If you are  such a person; please drop me a line.