I know nothing


I have not a clue how things are going to turn out and when health is involved that’s a pretty terrifying prospect.

If people only knew the hell of pre-assessment. The blood tests are grand, I quite like seeing my lifeblood (odd I know), the ECG and BP stuff fine, the form filling etc etc all perfectly okeydokey.

Nil by mouth is a challenge. Went to shove in a chewing gum earlier then realised I’d be committing a starvation sin. Water all the way. And then the unpleasant part…

So my appointment with la surgeon extraordinaire was supposed to be 2.30pm; as he was in theatre for longer than expected I saw him at 7pm. Which I don’t mind at all, as he was clearly helping someone else. He told me the gravity of what he would be doing, reiterating the fact I have the worst kind of recto-vaginal endometriosis (nice), and drawing diagrams to show my what he would be doing: shaving endo off my bladder, bowel, elsewhere and peritoneal excision. About 7 – 8 hours he reckons. My other half asked half-jokingly whether he takes breaks. He answered deadly serious: he doesn’t. What a trouper.

He explained ovarian suspension, which I hadn’t fully understood before. I will have two buttons on my stomach for just over a week after my operation. The ‘string’ that holds these buttons to my stomach will be connected to my ovaries, to ensure they don’t get stuck to any organs. Puppet ovaries! I’m not sure if I’m weird but this terrifies me. My sister has said I’ll be like a human Teddy Ruxpin so I’m trying to hold on to that cuddly analogy. Yes I am pretty overwhelmed by it but it is bloody amazing when you think about it.

Overall, a major consequence of my late-running appt was the delay of my bowel prep. Wonderful experience. Hence why I’m still awake at 1:30am. So basically everything in my stomach and bowel has to come out to ensure I don’t vomit during my operation tomorrow or cause any nastiness should my bowel be perforated. Unpleasant, but hey we like the truth, right.

After drinking 2 litres of disgustingly sweet, sickeningly orange laxative mixture over 4 hours I am wide awake with the joy of stomach cramps and running to the toilet. And I have to wait for 2 more hours until it’s done the full job. Quite proud that I haven’t cried yet – gotta look at the positives.

So I feel quite Van Gogh-y at the moment, like I know very little but that the stars, family and friends’ kindnesses and generosities, holding hands with Phil, my nieces’ and nephews’ laughter, trees and books make me dream. And they’re what I’ll be thinking about as they put the anaesthetic in and the oxygen mask on me tomorrow.

This is just the beginning, stars I’m not done with you yet.


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