On Monday I finally had my operation for a torn cartilage in my knee. As I mentioned previously, I had this self same operation way back last October and was recovering to such a degree that I had actually forgotten that I had even suffered prior to that operation. Then wallop! One naked lady incident and 3 doctors later and here I was with a freshly torn cartilage. I was told by 3 Doctors and a Physiotherapist (or Physio-terrorists as my father in-law so aptly phrases it) that I had bad arthritis and all they could prescribe were exercises to minimise the effects. FINALLY, after I found the 'right' GP (ie the GP that told me what I wanted her to!) I was given an MRI scan and a torn cartilage was clearly diagnosed.
Of course there is a severely heightened likelihood now that I will suffer from arthritis as a result of a year with a torn cartilage, and you know that those Doctors will say, I told you it was arthritis!
I have only had the one operation before, well that is not true as I had an operation on my ankle but that was done under local anaesthetic so I could watch the action. It was a bit like watching the Hand car wash guys (except the surgeon was English) as they give your car a thorough clean and being able to point out that they have missed a bit here or smudged a bit there. "Should that bit be bleeding as much as that?".
In truth although they thought I was not able to see the gory details they had such a polished chrome light fitting that I actually had a pretty good view and could see every cut (that's the Surgeons, NOT the car wash guys).
I prefer being put to sleep for the operation, especially compared to that ankle op. which necessitated 9 injections to numb the foot. NINE! AND THEN they had to come back and do another as I failed the pin prick test, ie I felt the pin when they pricked me and so with that and the extra injection they assaulted my foot 11 times. I might just as well have gone to an acupuncturist to sort it out! AND.... I think it was injection number 7 or 8 that accidentally hit the main nerve directly. They were not meant to have done that and it felt like they stuck a thousand volts up the core of my leg. I physically jerked about a foot backwards and let our a very manly yelp. Well I thought it was fairly manly for a yelp. I don't think it did much for the other patients waiting to be prep'd just outside the room!
So yes, I prefer to be knocked out on operations now but that is not to say that I don't have misgiving on that front either, I mean it's not really natural is it? Letting someone that you have only just met put you to sleep. Well OK Ming Campbell would be the exception there should you be so unfortunate as to meet him on a bus.
I'm ok with it all in principle, until I get to that little room where they prep your hand for the injection. It is about then that I start making connections to those poor blighters on death row. Then I can't get it out of my head that if they give me the wrong dosage now, well.... that's it, Goodnight Vienna. Then I wonder to myself, do they swab the injection area with antiseptic prior to injecting the inmates, because there is a definite saving to be made there if they do....
The next thing I know is that I am waking up in the recovery room with an hour of my life missing and only the nurses word that anyone has even done anything to me.
After the nurse gave me the once over I sneaked a peek at my leg to check that a) they had actually done something, albeit just to make some superficial cuts and bandage them up, and b) that they had done this on the correct leg, which they seemed to have managed.
BUT HOLD ON A SECOND.... What has happened to my leg? OH, MY, GOD. I had developed the brightest beetroot rash that I had ever seen. The rash had spread rapidly down to my ankle and far mor concerning was heading towards my groin and associated 'man parts'.
"Nurse", in an un-panicked, Panicked sort of way...
"Nurse", a little firmer and yet with only a hint of concern.....
"NURSE!"
She was a very understanding nurse and I feel that she clearly realised that I was still under the effects of the anaesthetic. Yes, yes, of course, it's obvious now that the leg was painted with a red antiseptic to prevent infection.
 |
| Red Leg with rather helpful pointy arrow to give the surgeon that added sense of confidence |
So then they chuck you back to your ward and every nurse that pops in has only one true interest in you...
Have you had a pee yet. I have no idea how often they check this personal detail. It is years since I gave up telling my mum that I was going to the toilet every time I went and even then I only told her in case I went missing in action, taken by the bogey man who lived behind the toilet bowl. There is clearly a check list of stages accomplished that needs to be ticked off before they will let you go home. Number one is have you woken up and Number two is have you done a 'number 1' yet? They never seem to worry about if you achieve a number 2 as they starved you for so many hours prior to the operation that their expectations on this are low.
For the next hour, in between drinking as much water as I could I had nurses pop in and out like comics from Rowan & Martin's Laugh-In (If you're younger than me check You-Tube) with quick 'one liners'. Then came the Physioterrorist closely followed by the Pharmacist chucking white coloured smarties at me after clarifying if I had spent a penny yet.
At some point the anaesthetist popped in to show off how well he did, this being proven by the fact that I was still alive to acknowledge his presence. I wasn't really sure what was etiquette here. I mean do I clap to show my appreciation or perhaps (and if I was wrong on this it might be an awkward moment) do I tip him? Actually now I think of it I should have tipped him before the operation, somewhat like a Queen would tip the guy with the axe before being beheaded. No it was too late to tip him now, so I just thanked him for not letting me die.
Then the Surgeon pops in. Well you can't be caught dozing when the 'Specialist' visits you, actually you've got to be damn careful not to be blinking when they visit as their visit is almost done on the hoof.
"Hello Mr.... Howyoudoin? I choppedthis,this,thisandthisoutofyou.Definitelyatear,I'veneateneditallup,hasthephysiotherapistseenyou?Yes,goodandthe pharmacistgivenyouyourmedication?Excellent,okanyquestions?No,good, OH have you had a pee yet? (Only the cleaners left to check this with me now) No.OKwell tellthenursewhenyouhave.Allthebest,goodbye...... And he is gone like the fast train that doesn't stop at your station and in which the safest thing to do is stand back from the platform and hold on to your hat!
He left me with some photographs which at first I took to be some photos from the Hubble Telescope, there's Jupiter and is that one of its moons (we'll leave the jokes about Uranus out, because...Uranus always makes me smile!).
By the way I'm really sorry to those of you that have tuned in to read a Blog about the renovation and setting up of a B&B in deepest darkest Norfolk. I guess you've just got screwed.
But don't despair I do occasionally return to the point at some time in the week, so just keep checking eh......
For the ones that like the Gory bits, the photo below shows the tear. The Fibula is the white bowling ball on the top and the Tibia is the white ball below. It would appear that the cold front blowing in from the Atlantic with its rough edge is the flap of cartilage that has caused me all the grief. And the other pictures show, well, um, erm, well stuff.
It was 4 o'clock and my driver was due soon so I called the nurse and explained that I needed a pee. I was told to ensure that I called the nurse first, I hoped that this was to check me getting out of bed and not to check if I achieved the infamous number 1 by watching over me, because if there was one way to delay things, believe you me that would have been it. I didn't really want to go but everyone had shown so much interest it seemed a shame to let everyone down and frankly I was concerned that the gardener kept looking at me through the window and I felt it was only a matter of time before he too would enquire!
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