Come Friday night, after all the preceding days anxieties, my only concern as I got into bed was whether I’d be able to get ready on time the following morning; more importantly would my beloved, ma belle chauffeuse be ready to transport me to the hospital for my day surgery. By 4.30 on Saturday morning I still hadn’t managed to grab any sleep but, I then re-awoke by 6.30am in preparation for the days events.
Quite strangely, by this time I was totally calm and relaxed in preparation for undergoing the surgical procedure. I duly arrived at Harrogate District Hospital before 7.30 and made my way to the Day Surgery Unit. The staff were all reallyquite brilliant in making one feel relaxed, and re-assured, about the procedure which one was there for: nurses, physiotherapist, anaesthetists and the consultant all introduced themselves and had a few word about the procedure. When I told the physio that I wasn’t too keen on the prospect of using crutches, owing to sundry aches and pains in elbows and upper arms, but I’d be happy to use walking sticks, she measured the stick I had with me and, a matching stick was cut and ready before I even went to theatre.
I wasn’t first on the list for the knee surgery but, nonetheless, I had undergone the op under general anaesthetic and was back in the bay by shortly after 9.30am. Were it not for a glitch with the computer printer, delaying printing of the discharge letter, they would have called my beloved earlier than was the case, for her to come and collect me. All that having been said. we still arrived back home by 11.40am. The nurse had laughed as she informed ma belle that I insisted on walking out and, wouldn’t take a chair. It really seems that all my anxieties had centred on pre-planning, not the event itself. Mind you, I’ve always preferred spontaneity to planning.
This morning, 48 hours after the op, I removed the bulky dressing from the wound and applied sterile patches in their place. I’ve been doing recommended exercises as and when I felt appropriate and have had little trouble with the technique for ascent and descent of the staircase. The one startling reality that has come to light is just how low the average lavatory pan & seat is; the switch from bladder release to bowel function seems to involve a considerable fall through space. If only we had eyes in our rears the operation would be a little easier. Elevating oneself after action provides considerable exercise of the arm muscles.
Since my return from the hospital I’ve only experienced the minimum of my familiar discomforts in wrist, elbows and armpits. I’ve even started to wonder if having a compression stocking on the non-operated upon leg has somehow applied a kind of lymph(atic) massage, similar to that experienced when an application of a tubular bandage support over the elbow frequently seems to alleviate a nausea-inducing aching tenderness in the armpits. [N.B. this is simply hypothetical – I am neither a medical or mystical practitioner]. Alternatively, it could have even be that my nervous system had diverted all its energies towards healing and soothing any discomfort in the battle of my wounded knee.