Done and dusted

Perched in my own comfy bed with Bill the Bolster to support me, I can now reflect upon the events of the past few days.
Surgery cancelled at the eleventh hour last thursday - gave us an opportunity to consider this a dress rehearsal for the real thing. What I was concerned about was that they would struggle to reschedule the surgery for a while, but they actually called me on Thursday afternoon to tell me that they were going to fit me in on the Monday (yesterday now). This was an enormous relief - I didn’t want to be hanging around in no-man’s land with Christmas looming.
So yesterday, the three of us set off again for the Marsden at 6am (this is the middle of the night for Ned) and we had a smooth journey to the Fulham Rd. I was told that I was first on the list - the surgical team all came and passed the time of day - reattired in gown, stockings and red labels, and ready for the off. The lovely anaesthetic reg, Ben, told me he’d been at St Helier a few years ago, And we talked about that for a bit. I was warned again about having a puffy face after the surgery again, because apparently, when you have robotic surgery, they tip you upside down (well, perhaps not completely upside down) so you can see the effects afterwards. Fancy. Peter wondered if they have a camera crew in there, complete with Jeremy Beadle?
No cancellations this time, and I was woken up in recovery by a lovely nurse, whose name I now cannot recall! I told her about my blog - so I hope she’s reading it. She was really sweet - as are all the nursing staff, without exception.
I was moved upstairs to the ward - a lovely big open space, which we renamed the Croydon Ward, because the three of us in there were all from Croydon! A happy coincidence, apparently.  
I felt remarkably well, and even when they got me out of bed in the evening, I was amazed that I felt so mobile - I was offered opiates if I needed them, and decided to comply in the wee small hours, so I could perhaps sleep a bit. 
Everything was great. The staff are lovely. The environment is super pleasant, food completely palatable - such an air of positivity about the place....... I don’t want to rave about it too much, but honestly - it’s so inspiring.
I only had one little mishap late in the evening last night - went to retrieve something from my case - and forgot about the trailing catheter - fortunately, nurse Rita was there to remind me that I was tethered!
This morning - catheter out, cannulae removed, bloods taken, given the once over, and told I was good to go. The surgery had gone smoothly - no nasty surprises - I have 6 minuscule (and I mean minuscule) incisions in my tummy (Peter was alarmed when I said that I’d drunk 4 litres of water, he thought I’d look like a watering can rose). The sutures are internal and absorbable, and I have been sent home with 2 flasks of lactulose, and 28 days of Tinzaparin - a cocktail mix I shall be devoting a happy hour to.
Currently, I feel ok. Slightly tender - but nowhere near as bad as I had expected (and feared). Those who know me well, will know that I shall struggle to remain sedentary for long - but I’m going to try. I want and need to get well.
I want to get a dog.......... (don’t tell Peter - not keen)

I am so grateful to everyone who has sent me good wishes. Thos felicitations have wrapped me in a blanket of loveliness. Thank you.

The picture at the top was sent to me by Faith (she saw it on instagram, I think) and it sort of says it all. Goodbye uterus. You served me well - but I have no further need of your services.

Kicked into touch..........

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