(originally posted to comp.sys.sinclair, and tidied up for on here :)
WOOOOHHHOOOOOO! aye, aye… I’m back… but only for a short time! I’ve had my operation, and I’m well on the road to recovery! The worst bit is currently getting my brain calibrated to have two working eyes! I’m seeing double of everything, and it’s too painful to focus… still, anyway, I might as well do a rundown of Tuesday…
Arrive at the Sunderland Eye Infirmary, with Chris, a mate of mine that offered to tag along. Played pool on the wobbliest pool table I’ve ever seen in my life. Not nervous at all.
The nurse came to give me my little arm strap thing… I laughably ask if that’s for when they carry me down the morgue… :) Obviously, still not nervous.
Things finally start happening… I get seen by a nurse who checks my breathing, heartbeat + blood pressure. All healthy. Cool. Nervous??? Nope… I then got changed into a pair of shorts and one of those STUPID “Hospital Use Only” gown things. And could I hell fasten it.
Chatted with Chris for ages while getting seen by various people. The anesthetist came, and explained that I’ll be getting a little prick in my hand (f’narrrr!). Nervousness scale? 0.
The guy who was going to do my operation then came to see me, and explained that there was a cancellation, and I’d be moved up the list. Still not nervous. Chatted and joked about the state of the useless hospital gown, and the fact everybody could see the hair on my chest.
There was a phonecall at the nurse’s desk… “Jamie? Yeah, he can walk down to theatre”… joked to Chris about what play I was going to see.
Started off walking down to the theatre with the nurse. I’ve never felt so weird in my life. Obviously, Chris could only go so far before it was no access. Strangely enough, that’s when I got nervous.
That’s when I knew it was happening. For the first time, it hit me just what I was going to go through. Panic set in the second I saw the sight of one of those portable heart-jolt things…
At this point, one of the anaesthetic guys came out, and led me to the trolley. PANIC MODE = MAXIMUM… I somehow managed to get onto the trolley, and they lowered my head down. At this point, I REALLY started to panic. The sight of the heart monitor next to me didn’t help any, and being hooked up to it really didn’t help any… fear then became an audible bleep in my left ear. Then, it started… the anesthetist came out, and inserted one of those plastic things into my right hand, and I felt about half a pint of
blood squirt out from the vein. “Oh, how pleasant”, I thought. But if that’s all I had to worry about, things were going great. Thankfully, all I could see were the fluorescent lights on the ceiling.
And then, sleepytime came… he inserted something into my hand, which made me feel woozy, and then I had enough time to feel another whoosh of chemical enter my bloodstream before passing out.
I came around, and knew absolutely fuck all. I awoke in exactly the same position underneath the same lamps, and I didn’t even realise I’d had the op. The first thing I remember was trying to pull the plastic thing out of my hand, and someone saying something along the lines of “Don’t touch it!”. I was taken back to my bed on the same trolley, and I can still remember
the white glint of the Pepsi machine I’d bought a can out of only a day before.
I was helped back onto my bed, and there I lay. Chris returns, and I spent the next hour or two drifting in and out of consciousness. In fact, I can’t recall anything else from that time period, apart from being in a cold sweat, and feeling generally awful. My eye was, and still is, constantly watering, although this is normal.
A special guest appears… my dad! Thankfully, the effects of the anaesthetic were starting to wear off slightly, and I was able to sit
upright for a bit, and drink some water. I felt a whole lot better. That is, until I started to feel sick, eventually leading to my throwing up, and completely filling one of those Papier Mache kidney dishes with bright yellow, clear liquid. I felt more guilty than anything else!! It’s bad enough hearing anyone throwing up, but actually being literally inches away from it…
My dad took Chris home, it must have been a long day for him, and watching me just lying there can’t have been very thrilling for him…
Also, I couldn’t keep my eyes open for long periods, which made it worse. I thought, while my dad was away, I’d try and get some sleep. Famous last words. No sooner had he left, then about 6 people came to visit the old guy over the ward from me… oh, what fun. They didn’t stop arguing. I gave absolutely no sign that I was awake,and I was rather amused when they started talking about me :) Nothing much was said, obviously. My dad returns, and I was still drowsy and irritated by not being able to keep my eyes open….
The final tests came to see if I was over the anaesthetic, to see if I could eat + drink without throwing up, and pass urine. They gave me 4 slices of toast and a cup of tea… I strangely didn’t like toast until last night, but actually, I quite enjoyed it. It thankfully stayed down, and the trip to the toilet was a huge success. Woohoo, I was on my way home. They gave me some drops for my eye (which I have to put in 4 times a day) and finally removed the plastic doobrie from my hand.
I left, and my dad drove me home. The journey was particularly awful. I could still not keep my eyes open fully, and when I could, the bright amber streetlights along the A19 made things look worse… bleh. I got in, and went straight to bed.
WEDNESDAY, JUN 27TH
I got up, and found that my eye had been watering all night, and most of it had dried on my nose. Urgh. I got up, and checked the post… more eBay cheques, and a Bruce Hornsby tape. I still felt grotty. I got my first look at my eye… ewww…. that’s all I’ll say. :) The first couple of hours were a learning experience… getting my eyes to synchronise. Weirdness abounds. I decided to switch on something totally unstimulating. Wimbledon first, and then the Teletubbies. Ahem.
I decided to give my eye its first trip out, and my stomach its first half decent meal for two days, as I went down the chippy. I thankfully made it there and back, and the chips were lovely.
I slept on the sofa while listening to Wimbledon again.
My dad returned home from work… there was very little to do, so I watched telly.
After watching a hilarious Simpsons (which I hadn’t actually seen), I decided I’d seen enough telly, and it was time to test my eyes on the computer. surprisingly (to me anyway), I still feel comfortable using it, although my brain gets occasionally confused, and I start typing on the wrong part of the keyboard… eeep!
And… erm, that’s it! I’m onto line #171 here, and I’ve probably all bored you to death :) Like I said, I’ll be quiet for the next week or two, at least until I can focus properly without having a searing pain shooting through the right side of my head… :)