Another busy week for Covid. This the virus that apparently knows that if you are a family of 6 your guest for coffee will allow the virus in. It’s that 7th person that is the key. Clever old virus.

In maths lessons I used to introduce probability using two dice.

All the class stands up. Then they predict the sum of two dice > 7. Sit down if they get it wrong. Yep the probability of getting a 7 is high. Boris clearly has extrapolated the idea and rather than forecast a result has decided the magic number is 7.

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But I digress. After yet another Covid test via train to London last Sunday at8 am, 50 million pieces of paper to sign and agree to try social distancing. For 14 days before the test and totally socially isolating for 48 hours after the test.. eh? Confused?….

How the hell do you social distance on a train. A taxi for the drive-in Covid. A train back. A train again to hospital. Anyway I wore a mask. Washed my hands and avoided dice games.

This time I had to pay for the whole thing in advance. NHS is paralysed and insurers refuse to cover.

It’s quite interesting being self pay. Refusing spare operating gown in case I got charged! Agreed to the stockings and bloody paper pants. See previous blogs for my stories of the mysterious incidents of disappearing pants. So weird.

Jerome and very Amazing Anaesthetist (AA) saw me before going down to theatre. They have now looked after me for nearly 11 years. Wow. It’s a total credit to them that somehow we chatter like old friends but also they get through the medical bits professionally too. We of course sorted Covid. Their horrendous stories of working on icu, the statistics, the R rate the whole dam thing including magic stupid 7. Jerome told me to look up a John Bishop sketch. Here it is

John Bishop

Then I just had to wait …. to ‘ go down’. Theatres always seem to be in a hospital basement …equivalent to prison cells. Then it’s the walk of terror when my summons arrives. Surely after all these years it would get better? Clutching gaping gown and hitching up the urine bag tripping along to keep up with assigned warden. Sorry I mean nurse. This one got all confused when we arrived. Handed me over to some scrubbed up man who then left me alone at a desk on a twirly chair.

I spent half an hour trying to avoid looking to closely at all the machines and syringes and potions and lotions stacked wall to wall. One box was labelled ENT spares. My god. Spares? Ears? Noses? Throats? I twirled about and tried to distract myself by releasing the airlock on the chair. I had just succeeded in a rapid descent to the floor when Awesome Anaesthetist arrived ! She suggested she had better cocktails available than most bars and perhaps we should go into the operating room. Onto the bloody gurney I lay, lights. people. action. No idea who they all were. everywhere. AA started to knock me out, but I interrupted. Where is Jerome? I thought he was doing this? Please. Help. ….

Waking up in recovery that’s what I panicked about. Why hadn’t Jerome done the catheter.? What had happened. My screaming spine needed sorting but no one seemed there.
Jerome came through. Reassuringly it would appear he had been near after all.

I was taken back up to the ward. And strange as it may seem to my relief; the gaping gown had in fact got soaked by a gaping wound. Haha. So the suprapubic HAD been done after all. The recovery nurse and ward nurse had to sort out the mess. Find more dressings. Gowns sheets and all the while I’m saying no no please don’t worry. Don’t need it on my invoice! I’ll make do!

I joined the yellow cardies on zoom that evening but not for long as yet again the dressings had to be changed. Brilliant texts from so many friends. Alchemist tempting me up North with cocktails and banter! I had interrupted her texts about other stuff. “ Iam currently languishing in a hospital bed ….

She replied: I love how you just drop things like this into conversation. Hope you get some sleep.

Me: well they’ve changed dressings, me and bed three times already going to be a long night unless dynarod can pop by.

Next morning Jerome arrived. As ever, bringing coffee for me: skinny -flat -white -strong. His own coffee too. Mask and all! We chattered and laughed. As ever he does that ! Then clear headed and so well looked after I was released. Went home by socially isolated train and grateful for the new catheter. It’s working great. Feels so much better than the last one. Pouring in all the potions I can think of and all is well..

Just an aside. Trump in hospital and a hospital statement is read out by a doctor in a white coat surrounded by more men actually a lady too, in white coats. I thought we thought white coats were banned because of the spread of infections. Just saying.