Yes I’m back and no I’m not in hospital smacked up to my eyeballs on morphine.
I got myself all psyched up for surgery, packed my hospital bag, repacked my hospital bag when I realised I couldn’t lift it, repacked it again when I realised I couldn’t zip it shut and finally I was on my way feeling like I was going to wet myself through nerves.
As I reached the hospital I realised I didn’t have my admissions paperwork with me and thus didn’t have the foggiest where I was supposed to be. I decided to head to the ward where I’d had my pre-op thinking that they’d be able to point me in the right direction. I’d just stopped right in the middle of the corridor to adjust my bag to stop my arm from dropping off when I saw lovely surgeon striding purposefully down the corridor. Wearing scrubs. Be still my beating heart.
He greeted me with a beaming smile, a crushing handshake, and some bad news. Bed shortage he said, trying everything he could he said, leave it with him he said. Oh and you need to head to theatre admissions (obvious really).
Well he tried his hardest but when the nurse called me through I knew it wasn’t to pop me in a bum flashing gown and prep me for surgery. She took me into a little office and told me that not only did they not have a bed for me, they didn’t have a bed for seven patients who were already IN hospital. It really was game over.
As if to illustrate how wonderful lovely surgeon is he came to see me himself to apologise profusely and promise me that he would fit me in ASAP and that seeing as I had already been cancelled once, the next date would be absolutely sacrosanct. I’m afraid I couldn’t help it and I got a bit weepy but he was brilliant. Gave me some time to calm down and answer some questions about the procedure before telling me that after 6 days of nothing but milk on the pre-op diet he thought I deserved a large glass of wine and a steak.
I left the hospital and headed for the station to get the train home feeling crushed. My spirits lifted when I realised I could actually have some proper food and so I couldn’t resist getting a cheeseburger from a chippy en route.
It was delicious.
However everything comes at a price and really, when your stomach hasn’t had any food for 6 days, let alone junk food, it doesn’t tend to react very well to a sudden onslaught of grease.
Sat at my table on the train I heard a worrying grumble but dismissed it as being from one of the other passengers. Then it happened again, this time accompanied by a sharp pain in my stomach and the sudden worrying urge to fart. Only I couldn’t be confident that it would only be a release of gas, there was a real danger that I was about to shit myself on the 14:26 from Cosham.
I was trapped. Not only by passengers and my ridiculously heavy bag but by the feeling that I wouldn’t actually make it as far as the train toilet. Let’s just say I broke into a real sweat and clenched my buttocks together so much my legs began to shake. The man opposite me shifted in his seat so I tried to give him a relaxed smile however given I was shaking and losing the feeling in my legs it was more like the rictus grin of a serial killer. A great look I’m sure you’ll agree.
The pain in my gut was getting worse and I began desperately looking round the carriage for options, a carrier bag, a handily placed bin, a little nook or cranny I could do my dirty business in. I even considered dashing into the empty first class carriage and dropping trou in there however just as soon as it had come on, the urge passed and I was left breathing a massive sigh of relief.
Especially when I looked up and saw the “CCTV is in operation in this carriage” sign.