Today was the big day. We’ve waited with various levels of patience for so many months, it was hard to believe the day was finally here.
Yesterday I “checked in” to my en-suite room at St Johns Hospital in Livingston. The steady trickle of staff attending to everything from supper to socks were fantastic. None of the staff look like the picture on the call button, clearly the last few decades have been missed by the designers.
I got a rubbish night’s sleep because I had the worst pain in my lump since it appeared. I’ve read too much science fiction and started to think it knew it was its last chance.
The surgeon and anaesthetist came for a chat in the morning and painted the compulsory worst outcome picture, and then the roller coaster ride to theatre began.
Moments later my name was being called. I willed myself awake feeling a bit groggy. Within a few minutes I was told all had gone well, though I may not be able to shrug my right shoulder any more. It’s hard to communicate how I felt about that.
Soon I was wheeled back to my room feeling better already. I got my phone and glasses handy and took a rare selfie.
That was a pleasant surprise. I texted Clare with the news and she set off to visit. By the time she arrived I had been visited by the surgeon. He was surprised to see that I could shrug (I told him he’d spoilt my joke) and told me he believed everything has gone as well as he had hoped. He hasn’t even gone for my jugular (we have two, he thought I might go down to one).
I have a huge amount of local anaesthetic (think numb nose at the dentist times a hundred) but so far no pain. This evening I feel more comfortable than last night!
I might feel a wee bit worse later, but I’ll take that!
I can’t get over how well it’s gone. I’ll be back to quoting Barry Cryer: “I’ve been dogged by good luck all my life”.