In previous years I have mentioned the pants issue. Every operation has the same prep.

Gaping gown. Tied at the back but never has developed into a side tie. Gaping at the back…nether regions exposed. You get to a point where you just do not care.

Next is the stockings. Akin to pulling on a wet suit. There are many techniques usually involving a plastic bag on foot first. That ends up with a plastic bag under the stocking over the knee. It is quite fun to see if anyone notices.

Finally it’s the pants. These can vary from paper to a sort of mesh. Either way they are one size only. On they go. But after surgery …they disappear.

You will realise this is the lead up to Monday’s on off on operation.

I caught a 5 am train. Which must nullify the ridiculous antibacterial wipe wash the hospital insists on.

Got there.

Baron arrived. His previous sartorial elegance has completely evaporated. He is now a bohemian: long haired, flared jeans, I cannot recall his shoes, probably sandals, shirt nearly tie dyed, short little boho jacket. I stifled a grin and listened patiently to his rapid fire interrogation.

You caused a lot of trouble last week was his welcome message. Referring to the false negative ECG.

I said not a word. Smile and wave.

He scribbled over my back to indicate where the implant was. As an opposed to the SNS which he wrote over too. Good thinking how embarrassing would it be to take the wrong implant out.

Off he flip flopped… with CNS and I stifling our giggles.

Next up was anaesthetist. He was super grumpy. I thought it was about the ECG. He hardly glanced at that. What he was worried about was the list of allergies.

Guess what: the pre assessment nurse had ignored my pre admission survey form. He had hand written all my stuff. He had listed every single drug I regularly take, on the allergy list.

That meant on the list of regular medication were the two main allergies: meropenem and Ciprofloxicillin as in anaphylactic allergic. As in real bad allergic.

Thank goodness my glasses were on, I could read over his shoulder and correct it all.

He disappeared off all of a dither.

Doesn’t kind of inspire confidence in the nervous wait for surgery. Gown and pants vulnerability does not help.

Hours later. Apparently I was second on list but patient 1 was proving tricky according to nurse.

Off to the anaesthetic room went I. Grumpy anaesthetist had cheered up considerably. Chatting away. Couldn’t believe I had come by train. He said I was independent and strong because of that. Er…more like I am so weary of endless operations, and determined to lessen the load on others . He chatted away about Shuttleworth near Bedford. Full of enthusiasm for that and everything there….planes planes, it is indeed a brilliant place. He insisted on telling everyone in the room about it.

Much later. I woke up. No pants. Where on earth do they all go?

Spent the rest of the day asleep.

Daniel picked me up.

Six weeks rehab ahead. No lifting twisting bending blah blah. The usual stuff.

New implant is in . New battery is in.

32 staples are in. Shit.

Onwards and upwards.