When I got down to the operating theatre this time, it was apparent that it had been a very busy day, and the theatre staff had been working continuously on their operating list for the whole day, and still had a lot to do after me.
Consequently we had a change of plan, and simply went with a straight-forward change of sponges, using general anaesthesia, exactly as we have done previously. The Fentanyl was it’s usual pleasant self, and the subsequent dose of Propofol (which is what actually puts me “out”) stung as it was injected; also as usual. As an interesting side-note, with typical dark humour the medical profession seems to have now nicknamed Propofol “Jackson Juice”! Ah well. It made me smile anyway.
My recovery from the anaesthetic was fine, and even if not quite as silky-smooth as the last time, I was still back on my ward, tucked up in my bed within 90 minutes of having left for the operating theatre. And when a nice bowl of soup and some sandwiches arrived shortly thereafter, life started looking very good indeed.
My family paid a quick visit after that, which was great, as my youngest has been away all week on a school trip, so this was the first time I’ve seen her for a while. We had a good catch up, and then it was time for them to leave. It’s always sad when they go, but my eldest was clearly tired, and has her Duke of Edinburgh bronze expedition this weekend, so needs to be up early tomorrow. I’ll just have to look forward to at least seeing some of them again tomorrow!
Since then I’ve continued to feel fine, and my observations are showing no signs of any of the problems that I experienced last time. This may be because they replaced the two sponges with only one, causing less abrasion of the wound bed, or it may just be that there is a lot less “gunk” left to get into me. After all, the drain seems to have been draining off nothing but nice clear serum and fresh pink blood for the last couple of days now – which sounds horrible, but is actually very positive, and is apparently one of the things that the nurses look out for as a sign of healing.
My surgeon phoned through a short time back to check that I’m recovering well, and to let me know that he’ll call by tomorrow to see me, at which point I will no doubt get a lot more information on how things are really going.