It's not that I don't want my mum to be here...it's just that. It seems like an awful waste of her time waiting with me in the day procedures unit. I've brought my Kindle with me, and I'm not nervous about my surgery...I'll go in, they'll get me to put on some nasty surgical gown with no back so the world can see my arse (I've worn fabulous knickers for this very reason) and then I'll go for a nap while they perform keyhole surgery on my knee.
The difference between my mum and me is that she doesn't care about the inconvenience to herself, whereas if she were me, she would be counting the seconds until she could escape and carry on with her own life. I'm quite selfish...my mum isn't. So here she is, sat with me while I wait to be called in for my pre-op consultation...yes...I did just say "pre-op" (snigger snigger). The thing is, I was kind of looking forward to carrying on with the book I'm reading, but I don't say this to her, because I know she's here because she loves me, and part of her is probably concerned that I'm going under general anaesthetic for this operation. Me...well I'm not concerned at all. I don't think I have any reason to be, it's a straight forward operation, nothing to worry about.
The other women in the waiting area seem more tense than I am. Their surgeries might be more serious I suppose, or I might just be unnaturally calm about being put under. Should I be more concerned? I'm pondering this when the anaesthetist calls my name and leads me into a small consultation room. He's ridiculously handsome, Asian, with dark round chocolate eyes and a soft yet masculine voice...I'm distracted by his jawline which is awkward as he's started asking me questions about allergies. No I'm not allergic to anything, but the way you're looking at me at the moment might just bring me out in a rash...yes by all means you can look at my teeth to prove that I don't have any caps or loose fillings, but ohmygod please don't put your face that close to mine to check, as I may be forced to lick you! I'm just about admitting to myself that I'm smitten when he asks my to jutt out my lower jaw...seriously how is a girl supposed to impress a guy when he's asking her to gurn at him?
"You have a very small mouth" he says, "that makes my job more difficult"
What the hell is he planning to shove in my mouth while I'm under? Surely it's more polite to keep a girl awake for those sort of shenanigans? I realise I don't really care and joke about my friends disagreeing based on the amount of noise my gob emits...he doesn't smile. He is either very professional or has no sense of humour. I decide it's the former, because otherwise he'd be evicted from my "ideal man" box and I'm not quite ready to let him go.
After my consultation I'm handed my surgical stocking and backless gown, and do my very best to make it look as attractive as possible, but fail miserably. I'm walked down to theatre where the team of anaesthetists start sticking heart monitors to me and a cannula in my hand. I'm not the type of person who is comfortable with serious situations, so I make a suggestion with regards to the surgical stocking that perhaps it could come in a fishnet variety, only the female anaesthetist smiles and comments that I don't seem particularly nervous. I admit that I'm kind of just looking forward to an afternoon nap as it's an extravagance I rarely have the opportunity to indulge in. Finally the others seem to start developing a sense of humour, and they start to joke along with me.
As the first lot of anaesthetic is injected,I'm asked if I'm starting to feel the effects, which I'm not, I suggest they may need more ketamine to tranquillise this thoroughbred and as she dutifully ups the dosage, the last thing I remember saying is "ooooh, my face feels itchy, is that norm...zzzzz". I realise ultimately the joke is on me, as there are few things funnier than watching a person pass out when they're still trying to hold a conversation!
I've never woken up drunk before. Usually sleep comes after alcohol and its a hangover that I wake up to. Waking up from anaesthesia is like waking up and being ridiculously drunk. I woke with a start with a couple of nurses at my bedside and immediately started gabbling. The benefit of feeling like you're drunk is that when you make a comment about the procedure being so quick, is that you don't feel like a complete eejit when the nurse points out that you were asleep...so it probably felt a lot quicker than it actually was.
The nurses busied around me, occasionally tipping the bed when my blood pressure dropped, which given that my blood pressure is usually on the low side of normal didn't really surprise me. It's happened before when I was giving blood. I'd finished giving blood and got off the bed to go and help myself to a cup of tea and a custard cream, when a fellow donor blanched and started pointing at my arm. The gauze plaster had become soaked in blood and peeled away, leaving the vein I'd just donated from free to literally spurt blood in a comedy fashion. Out of nowhere two partially retired (teeny tiny) nurses hoisted me off my feet and back onto an upside down bed. I swear I have no idea where they got their strength from but nevertheless they managed it!
So there I lay, my left knee bandaged up tightly, still talking gibberish at speed...still completely smacked off my t*ts, when my handsome anaesthetist appeared by my bedside. Reassuringly he told me, I'd be back up on my feet and running marathons in no time.
I think he must have liked me...Because bad knees or good knees...
I've clearly never run a marathon in my life!!!
Note to self...get my friend at the hospital to give the hot anaesthetist my number.
