Yesterday I went for my pre-op assessment where I “would have the opportunity to ask questions about my operation”. No I didn’t, because the lovely nurse who runs the unit is a general pre-op form-filler, BMI calculator, leaflet giver and is not knowlegable about every operation. I had (stupidly) imagined that I would be seeing, being assessed by, a person employed within the speciality associated with my op. Obviously I can’t expect anyone, Doctor or Nurse, to be cognisant of every procedure available within the operating theatre so I couldn’t be upset with her, just disappointed and back to relying on the internet. It was interesting though as I had an ECG. I’ve never had one before so it was reassuring to have my heart activity checked and declared perfect. I also had blood tests, tremble, tremble, I verge on needle phobia so it takes much girding of loins to sit and wait to be summoned to have a needle stuck in a vulnerable part of my arm. I was overjoyed to only have one person before me, less time for adrenaline to course through my body and instigate my ‘fight or flight’ response. I was called in, and as is usual I warned the phlebotomist that I am nervous about having blood taken, to the extent that I have been known to faint. I have met more reassuring ‘vampires’ but I calmed myself, safe in the knowledge that she does this all day, every day. Unfortunately she had a cough, a very tickily persistent cough, whilst the needle was in my vein. Jiggle, wiggle went the needle, breathe deeply said my brain. I remained calm. When I got home I took my coat off, I thought I had a cream jumper on but the arm was red. I had bled, quite a lot. I also had a large, swollen, blood filled haematoma. Today I have an impressive bruise, the size of a saucer, that’s going to look attractive when I’m on holiday, wearing T-shirts. We go on Friday.
Tonight we have Jack and Izzy whilst their Mummy is at O2 watching the Spice Girls. Hubby is horrified, “I thought we had brought her up properly. How can she be going to see the Spice Girls?” It will be interesting to hear what she thinks of their performance, and O2. When it was in it’s previous incarnation, as the Millennium Dome, we went there and were all disappointed, hopefully it is now an improved facility.
Amy’s and the Boy’s Mummy is consumed with her current project, finding daycare for when she returns to work. She reported this morning that it, and the twins, are giving her sleepless nights. What she requires is 3 days for Amy, and 1 day for Jamie and Louis, I’m having the Boys for the other 2. Her findings so far are not good, some of the care providers do not inspire her with a desire to entrust her babies to them, and so far the have all worked out too expensive, they average out at £875 per month, including the government early years education allowance for Amy, this would leave daughter with under £.250 for the month. Hardly worth the effort really, especially once you take off petrol costs etc. but they need her to work. A solution would be for her to find an evening or weekend job, then they wouldn’t require childcare, but she has been with her company for 10 years and put in a lot of effort to achieve her current role, it would be such a waste.
More bad news on the staffing front at work, my job-share is going into hospital to have her gall-bladder removed, she will be off at the same time as me, woe, woe and thrice woe. I really can’t see how the community service in our area will function. I am feeling quite guilty and have been musing about whether I should postpone my op, after all I haven’t got a life-threatening condition, just life affecting. I have debated it with Hubby and a couple of friends but they all pointed out that I have already waited a few years to submit myself to the surgeon’s knife, mainly because I am such a wimp, and they are suspicious that I am just using work as an escape route. They may be right, it’s difficult to be objective really, wood, trees etc., I could justify anything.