OK, You’re in theatre next


One of the lovely nurses that kept popping in to see me was keeping me updated with progress.

 and when i was likely to go into theatre.  The anaesthetist had been in and asked me some questions but allowed me to ask some from him.  he said he would be giving me anti sickness medication with the anaesthetic and that he will give me paracetamol post op.  My surgeon James Halstead came in and asked me some questions, asked if i knew what i was getting into and if i had anything to ask.  He said he hasn’t lost a patient and isn’t planning on changing that and if i follow his instructions he will ensure i lose a sensible amount of weight.  He shakes my hand and leaves.

I have a shower in the ample size en suite bathroom, the water isnt very warm and shower not very pressured, nevertheles i get my self clean and dry and pop on my hospital gown.  I was horrified to see that i was provided with paper underpants too but my nurse said if i had cotton boxers i could wear them although they would probably be stained with iodine, I thought to myself that id rather be stained with iodine than to wear these disposable under crackers.  I pop on my gown which doesnt close fully on the back and pop on my anti clotting socks the nurse brought in earlier.  I feel nervous, hungry and slightly sick.

I sit on my bed awaiting to be called and about half an hour passes before im fetched and I walk along the corridor to the theatre.  Before we go though my nurse gets me another gown to wear as jacket so as to cover my bare arse and back.  I get into theatre and the stench hits me, not a dirty smell but that overly chemically cleaned smell.  it reminds me of the kitchens in the hotel i once worked,  The room is freezing and the lights are bright.  Im shivvering now and i can see a fridge full of blood, this is obviously on standby should anything go wrong.  Im starting to consider backing out,  Ive lost weight before and done well on my own, maybe this one last time i can do it properly.  What if i die?  What about my new son?  My parents dont know im here, if i die theyd be mortified i never told them.

“so you have any kids?” the nurse asks, its probably evident that im shitting myself so i can see she is trying to calm me down.
“yes, a new born, 9 weeks, little boy” i reply nervously

a large black male in scrubs comes in, hes confident and stern he asks me to confirm my signature and to put on my cap. He stands me up and leads me into the theatre, i see my surgeon in his scrubs at a distance, it looks like he’s checking his equipment with someone else, he spares me a glance and carries on what hes doing.  Im made to sit on the bed and press my feet against the bottom.  My gown is undone and i lie back.  The stern man begins attaching heart monitors to my chest with a sense of urgency while the aneasthethtist i met before says hello and begins looking for vein.
“A sharp scratch” he says as he inerts the canular, it hurts a bit mroe than a sharp scratch but it always does.

“here is some oxygen” as he places a mask over my face
“take deep breaths, fill your lungs” i take deeper breaths of the cold gas.

“you will now feel the anaesthetic in your arm, it will be cold but may sting a bit” i feel him fiddle with the cannula and then whoosh!
Fuck me! my arm feels like its got severe cramp.
“think happy thoughts” and within seconds I’m out.




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