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.