So. On my first night I didn’t get to sleep until 3.42. or, at least, I didn’t lay back and close eyes until then. My arm is no longer numb.
They say it’s all about the preparation, and in some ways I’ve done quite well. I have a freezer full of portioned-out ready meals, cooked by my and, in the case of the curry, Si (he does a fine, fine curry), pre-loaded my system with mackerel and stayed off the booze for … oh, well, I think I had a temperence breakfast. My blood pressure is perfect, my resting pulse rate hovering around 60 (and that stuck in a hospital waiting for my first general anaesthetic, it actually went down when I was lying on the anaesthetist’s slab staring at the bright white ceiling – is it just me, or would making the ceiling more fluffy turn hospital into a far more friendly experience?
I have stockpiled a whole bundle of various foodstuffs which are relatively easy to open, managed to get a bundle of DVDs to watch, washed most everything and got extra pillows to help keep me off my shoulder at night. I’ve even got a hairdresser coming over to plait my hair so I don’t have to worry about it for the next few weeks. So far, so good. Last night, I noticed the odd error – my bedside table is on my left, so I slept with the light on. I mean, rookie error, no? My painkillers, too …
But it’s remarkable how one arm affects your life. Balance. It’s all to cock. When I stand up I topple gently forward because my arm is strapped to my front and I haven’t adjusted to it yet. I have to concentrate on keeping my back utterly straight otherwise I’m all wobbly, and it is not good.
Perhaps the most amazing thing is how the general doesn’t seem to have utterly poleaxed me. Top marks mr anaesthetist. Bottom marks to whoever brought the nurses lots of food while I was dreaming about pizza waiting to be wheeled away.
It’ll be intriguing when I’m alone. Today I must audit my house, or I’ll come a cropper!