14. Pre-Theatre
This is really starting to feel like hospital now and the final step of the day is close. I’m put onto a bed in the day ward and it’s been recently renovated. The next steps are explained to me by Brenda, the nurse. Of course I am asked the same questions over and over and the staff apologise they have to keep asking. I’m given a blue bag and sent to the bathroom to get changed. I change into a clean hospital gown; my knee high white compression socks and towelling robe and sit back on the bed. I’m told I’m first into surgery – yes! The anaesthetist comes and talks to me. She is lovely and very sensitive. She sits on the bed and talks quietly to me, explaining what will happen to me in theatre. Next the registrar and a couple of other interns visit me. I look at the handsome male doctor and feel like I know him. Of course, he was the doctor I saw at Pre-Admission Clinic on Wednesday! They ask the same questions, saying they are sorry to ask them, it’s procedure. They explain what they will do in theatre. I am really impressed with the attention to detail. They tell me it will probably be an hour before I go up and my surgery should take an hour.
The ward nurse checks on me and she apologises for the smell of food as the cafeteria is just outside the Admissions Ward. Not fair. I don’t really feel hungry though. I’m not there long when the pre-theatre calls for me and I’m wheeled up in my bed. I didn’t think my husband would be able to come so I say goodbye to him. He heads off to the hospital across the road to have lunch with a friend who works there. I’m glad he has some distraction while I’m in surgery.
Pre-theatre is small, just room for two beds. Jen is running the show today and is great and so friendly. We laugh and crack jokes. I am so relaxed and almost enjoying myself. I feel as if I am wrapped in a cocoon and don’t experience any anxiety. Everyone here seems to have head wraps and shoe covers. Two staff are leaning in through the window and looking at me and talking. One comes over after a while and says she is Sarah and I’m ‘unfortunate’ enough to have her look after me. We joke and then she says that they didn’t think I was their patient as they were told they would have a 55-year-old female and they couldn’t believe I was 55. I’m flattered. I ask what theatre I will be in. It’s six. I don’t know why I need to know, but it’s some conversation. There seems to be a flurry of activity and I have a sense of serious action happening. I ask the time as the clock on the wall is stuck at 9.20am. It’s just after 1.30pm and they expect my surgeon any minute. As they start to wheel me to theatre she arrives, in a gown and gets a head cover and puts it on. I may have imagined it, but I think she has her handbag over her arm. She walks into theatre with me. It’s all action and there seems to be at least 6 people in there. I’m moved onto the operating table, I tell them to be careful of the cannula already inserted in my hand and they laugh at me. I’m given the mask with oxygen and a solution is washed through my cannula. I’m told to breathe slowly and deeply. After a few breaths I feel like I’m suffocating and don’t like the mask. Then I’m told the drugs are being injected and to hold my thumb up and keep it up as long as I can.