Next morning it's a waiting game. We see the anaesthetist. They'll do keyhole surgery, and only open me up if absoloutely necessary. Sounds OK to me. I sign all the consent forms, including allowing them to put pics of me on YouTube with barnyard animals.
About 12.00 off I go. Should take about an hour or so. Lots of ceilings. Lots of masked people peering at me. And then...
BLACKOUT
I do have one picture of me being operated on:
I become vaguely aware of lots of voices and people arranging me. I'm being wheeled around and end up back in my room, or I am told it is my room, but I don't believe it because it is now dark. I hear my wife's voice, rather anxious. I open my eyes and see not bags of liquids, stuff draining out of me, tubes, machines bleeping, but a large spoonful of custard coming towards me
First thing I see on coming round
"Here eat this" says a female voice. Remarkably, despite my comatose state, I feel suddenly a bit peckish, and I manage to spoon down a bit of custard and fruity tart hidden in the depths.
"Now try this" and a salmon and cucumber sandwich is thrust at me. I manage a nibble. I realise, for the first time in maybe two months, that my innards are quiescent. There appear to be no D-Day type manoeuvres going on down below.
"What's the time?" I croak.
"Six" says my wife. It took five hours. Should have taken one.
"Am I OK?"
"Apparently"
As if on queue, in comes one of the surgical accolaides, who looks tired but relievd, and he takes the time to explain it to me. "That was an extremely difficult and technically very challenging operation. Very, very complex. Your gallbladder was very infected, full of pus, and had started infecting all the organs and areas around. The other organs: liver, colon, stomach, had all been trying to isolate the rest of the body from the gallbladder, and had probably been doing it for some time. I must say, you have a very robust immunity system, and it has been fighting this for, probably, months. The gallbladder also had an abscess, which is extremely rare, and we now also know from miscrobiology that you had the start of blood poisoning. Septicemia. You have been extremely ill."
Jesus
"Fortunately, we got to the gallbladder before the abscess burst. It was very difficult to get at and separate it, as it had stuck to all surrounding organs, but we eventually successfully removed almost everything except a small piece still attached to the liver. However, it is open and uninfected, and will present no problems, It took 4 litres of fluid to irrigate clean the area. We are very relieved. You should make a full recovery. A very very difficult operation."
"That's extraordinary. I guess I was much iller than I thought. Did you have to open me up?"
"No, Mr Gonzales was able to perform all procedures using keyhole surgery. Have a look."
With much trepidation, I lift up my gown. My belly is white and shaved and bloated from the op, but all there is to see is five little sticking plasters, about the size of something you'd put on a paper cut. Unbelievable.
Picture of me and my belly following the op
I thank the surgeon profusely and ask him to convey my heartfelt gratitude to Mr Gonzales and everyone else. He smiles tiredly, says he will, and leaves, and that night I am, for the first time in months, restful. A bit of discomfort from the surgery, and very woozy, but really, nothing at all. I doze contentedly throughout the night as nurses come and check my vital signs every half hour or so, and think about Mr Gonzales and his entourage. What a bunch of geniuses. I don't know what they get paid, but they're worth every penny.
Next morning, and The Great Man arrives in his usual cloud of accolades and clipboards.
"I understand you earned your money with me yesterday, Mr Gonzales," I say by way of greeting.
They all laugh nervously. "It was a very difficult procedure, yes, but ultimately very successful. You should have no after effects. Very good. Very good result."
"Will I be able to eat normally?"
"Of course, of course. Eat and drink normally, yes, yes. You may have trouble processing very fatty food, but perhaps that is no bad thing, yes? HAHAHA!" He slaps his ample belly.
"OK, now we will check your bloods later today to ensure infection is under control, and then, off home with you!"
"So soon?"
"Of course, of course. The worst place to recover is the hospital. You need to get out of bed and exercise. Get all strength back - go home!"
...and he's gone. I could see the intensity had gone out of his eyes a little. I was no longer an interesting case, but not to be an interesting case to Mr Gonzales I concluded, must surely be a good thing.
I find, remarkably, that I am able to get up without any difficulty whatsoever. On Mr Gonzales' advice, I take myself off down the corridor for a bit of gentle exercise. I shuffle past reception and there is the Maestro, inexplicably taking selfies with his entourage amid much jocularity. I wave to him as I totter past. "Taking your advice Mr Gonzales," I say. He looks round at me and smiles broadly. "Ah yes, yes excellent, keep it up!!" and he gives me a hearty slap on the back which sends me skittering across the linoleum.
Later that day, blood results indicate that although the infection is still very much there, they are satisfied that enough indicators are going in the right direction, and I go home, on the arm of my missus., with many antibiotics in tow.
It's now about two weeks later. Have been back for a blood checkup - looking good, although my liver, kidneys, and various other giblets have taken a hell of a battering, and function not brilliant. Will be checked by the GP over the next few weeks to make sure the organs are coming back on line.
Each day I feel a bit better and stronger, but my guts have yet to fully settle down. I am still losing weight - down to 78kilos from about 85kilos, but my appetite is back, and I guess it'll take some time to stabilise. I always wanted to be under 80kilos. Be careful what you wish for...
I have had the occasional stomach cramp, but nothing like before, and no gallbladder pain. I hope, I pray that ship has sailed.
I'll be back...
No you won't you bastard.
Soooooo....you're fixed now. Pint?
ReplyDeletePint sounds good!
Delete