Or S day? For surgery? Or O day (operation)? Or, indeed L day (laparoscopic cholecystectomy), or even G day (gallbladder). In fact, virtually any letter but D. But whatever it’s called, today was The Big Day…Simon has had his gallbladder removed.
He was first on the list so I had a terrible night’s sleep, knowing I had to get up before six to get him there by seven am check in. At least I got to bed in good time: Simon stayed up until midnight to get his last pie in before beginning his preop fast.
We got to the hospital in good time, and everyone we dealt with was lovely as Simon got checked in. I took photos for the family but he wouldn’t let me take one of the paper underwear he was forced to put on, even before he donned them, complaining that they were too undignified.
My anaesthetic colleague regaled us with stories from her recent médecin sans frontières posting to South Sudan (hair raising) to take our minds off things as she inserted his iv line. The surgeon had a cursory chat and then said “sign here”, pointing to the consent form. Soon everything was in readiness, and he got wheeled off to theatre.
I’d stupidly left my phone at home (second time in a week…simply distracted or rapidly progressive dementia?), so I hopped back in the car and joined the rush hour traffic back home. To while away the time I did a few chores like mowing the lawns, tidying up, and feeding the fish, and after a couple of hours, I got a phone call from the surgeon to say the surgery was over and everything had gone well.
As it was just me by now, I went back to the hospital on my scooter, as parking at the new hospital remains dire. As a VIP I was allowed into the recovery area, where Simon was awake but still fairly stunned, or “shattered” in his own words. The recovery nurse had already called the ward staff to come and pick him up, which they duly did not long after I arrived.
He is in room 17 on level 4, which is easy to find as it’s currently the only ward in the private hospital. It is a lovely room, big and shiny and new , with its own en suite and views across the roof tops to some nearby pohutakawa trees.
Simon’s nurse is a lovely lady whom I have worked with for years. She did his obs – heart rate, blood pressure, oxygen levels, temperature – and then asked how his pain was. He looked at me for a long minute, not sure why? And then said six out of ten. She offered him some pain relief and he bargained her down to a quarter of what she’d been going to give him. By the time she returned though, and explained that they didn’t have tablets that small, he’d changed his mind and decided to go for paracetamol only instead.
While she was out of the room, he said he was certain he’d feel better if he could only get dressed and sit up in a chair. He’s a remarkably stubborn man and I was seriously alarmed by now. (Does the phrase ‘discharged against medical advice’ ring any bells?) In the end I said I’d help him get up but first I wanted to buy myself some lunch. I took my time on that excursion and by the time I returned he was feeling more relaxed, the pain relief having kicked in, and was even having a little doze.
He was more his usual self after a rest, so had a pee and then got dressed, much to his nurse’s dismay. We had a wander around the hospital, including outside as it’s such a gorgeous day. There was slim pickings for lunch at the hospital cafe by now but he had a second double espresso and a gluten free chicken salad sandwich. By the time we got back to the ward it was 2:30 and the lunch he’d ordered still hadn’t arrived, so that I had to go and tell the nurses so they could hurry the kitchen up. (Simon: “One star review!”) The lunch when it arrived was fairly measly as befits someone immediately post op so it was lucky Simon had pre emptively supplemented it from the cafe. I had the leek and potato soup which was flavoursome if rather salty.
By now it was pretty clear that Simon was well enough to go home. He has a night’s stay booked in the hospital, but East or west, home is best! So we’ll go back to our place if the surgeon gives us the go ahead. Really Simon looks extraordinarily well, better than anytime during our holiday in fact, so I’m sure he’ll be fine. He is currently catching up on his work emails, while we wait for the surgeon to finish his list and do his post op ward round. Simon is the living embodiment of ‘mind over matter’.
…
We never got to see our surgeon after all, as unfortunately the last case on his list was far less straightforward than a simple lap chole, and he was still in theatre when we went home around 6:30. Luckily his faithful nurse/PA was on hand to organise our discharge.
Simon wanted to drop into the supermarket on the way home, probably afraid that I might otherwise insist on cooking. As he fondled the avocados, and selected the most expensive cuts of beef, I couldn’t help thinking no one would suspect that he’d had major surgery today.
I’m really very pleased that everything has gone so well. A last minute sartorial change of mind, to wear seasonally appropriate white jeans, had meant I’d had to forgo my lucky underpants (black with white polka dots), and I’m certain Simon’s enforced undignified white paper ones would have had no power to promote good fortune. So, he’s done so well from shear force of will, plus of course excellent care from the team looking after him. Thank goodness!