The surgeon told me it’s a tiny little ten minute operation and really I have no need to worry. The risks are minute and the benefits could be dramatic.
Additionally, the procedure itself offers an opportunity for sleep.
So I agreed. Mind, body and soul.
And I signed on the dotted line.
He told me to make an appointment with the anaesthetist.
I visited her on Tuesday and after waiting for a good hour and a half, she trawled through my medical history with me.
“You have quite a lot behind you, haven’t you?”
“You can’t tell by looking at you.”
“Erm… Yes. Thanks.” I’m not sure whether to feel flattered or concerned.
“I need to tell you, you’re high risk. You have asthma. It could lead to complications. You could take an asthma attack during the operation. We will of course treat you for it, if you do. Please sign here to show I’ve warned you of the risks.”
The operation is tomorrow.
I am now starting to think I am completely bonkers. I have lived this long with heavy periods. What’s another few years? After all, the menopause can only be just around the corner… And anyway, is bleeding fifteen days a month really so bad?… I guess I’m pretty used to it by now…
I think about the surgeon and his experience and I start to relax again. I think about going for a hot bath and try to remember that I *must shave*.
I prepare the dinner – Cauliflower Surprise – the surprise being that it contains hardly any cauliflower.
I’m on a stuff-as-much-food-in-as-humanly-possible-marathon because as of 24.00 I am no longer allowed to eat.
In celebration (of the marathon, not the operation) I have even bought a chocolate cake.
Between stuffing and cooking, shopping and soothing conversations with friends, the day whizzes by and it’s time to say goodnight to the children.
Aden’s concerned but Akasha sings, “Have fun at the doctors. Have fun everywhere.”
You gotta love ‘em.