Thank you all so much. I cannot tell you how much your words of support have meant.
The Smaller Portion was operated on this morning. He had to be at the hospital at 6 this morning and was warned that tardiness would cost him his place in the queue. This meant real suffering for someone whose preference is to spring out of bed at the crack of noon. With the help of his sister we were there on time. Early even.
An incredibly convoluted admission process followed. First he had to complete two forms. Having done so, he was told to sit down in the waiting room. Then they called his name again and issued him with stunning hospital wear including stockings, booties and a very fetching cap. Having donned it he was told to sit down in the waiting room. Where we waited. And waited. Then he was called again and had to complete another form, have his blood pressure taken and a sample vial of his blood taken. Then, you guessed it, he was told to return to the waiting room.
Finally he was called again, asked more questions and told to climb onto a hospital bed. As they wheeled him off to the theatre I asked if they could ring me when the operation was finished, and tell me the outcome. 'Maybe.' 'Perhaps it is better if you ring the Patient Enquiries number at 10.30'
Which I did. To be told he was still in theatre and to ring back in an hour. Which I did to get the same response. When I rang back at 12.30 I was told that he was in Recovery and would be for at least an hour and a half. And to ring back. And no, I couldn't talk to anyone in Recovery. I finally established he was in a ward just before three. The phone rang out the first time I tried to talk to them. The second time, the phone was answered and I was told he wasn't there. I said he was. 'Oh, yes so he is.' Further interrogation reveals that he has had an ileostomy. Sadness. Both of us hoped it wouldn't be necessary.
So his sister and I decided the hospital has stuffed us around quite enough for one day and we would go and see him. And the rotten remote for the car refused to function and consequently the car refused to move. I got out the teeny weeny screwdriver set and got to work. Nothing was going to stop me. And it didn't.
When I got to the ward and went to see him he asked me what had happened. THE ROTTEN FESTERS HADN'T TOLD HIM. Oh joy, oh bliss.
I have had a glass of red wine and may have another. I have told his sister (who has been nothing but helpful and who I wish to Jericho) that there are vegetable noodles for dinner. If she would prefer something else she is free to forage.
Thank you all once again.
The Smaller Portion was operated on this morning. He had to be at the hospital at 6 this morning and was warned that tardiness would cost him his place in the queue. This meant real suffering for someone whose preference is to spring out of bed at the crack of noon. With the help of his sister we were there on time. Early even.
An incredibly convoluted admission process followed. First he had to complete two forms. Having done so, he was told to sit down in the waiting room. Then they called his name again and issued him with stunning hospital wear including stockings, booties and a very fetching cap. Having donned it he was told to sit down in the waiting room. Where we waited. And waited. Then he was called again and had to complete another form, have his blood pressure taken and a sample vial of his blood taken. Then, you guessed it, he was told to return to the waiting room.
Finally he was called again, asked more questions and told to climb onto a hospital bed. As they wheeled him off to the theatre I asked if they could ring me when the operation was finished, and tell me the outcome. 'Maybe.' 'Perhaps it is better if you ring the Patient Enquiries number at 10.30'
Which I did. To be told he was still in theatre and to ring back in an hour. Which I did to get the same response. When I rang back at 12.30 I was told that he was in Recovery and would be for at least an hour and a half. And to ring back. And no, I couldn't talk to anyone in Recovery. I finally established he was in a ward just before three. The phone rang out the first time I tried to talk to them. The second time, the phone was answered and I was told he wasn't there. I said he was. 'Oh, yes so he is.' Further interrogation reveals that he has had an ileostomy. Sadness. Both of us hoped it wouldn't be necessary.
So his sister and I decided the hospital has stuffed us around quite enough for one day and we would go and see him. And the rotten remote for the car refused to function and consequently the car refused to move. I got out the teeny weeny screwdriver set and got to work. Nothing was going to stop me. And it didn't.
When I got to the ward and went to see him he asked me what had happened. THE ROTTEN FESTERS HADN'T TOLD HIM. Oh joy, oh bliss.
I have had a glass of red wine and may have another. I have told his sister (who has been nothing but helpful and who I wish to Jericho) that there are vegetable noodles for dinner. If she would prefer something else she is free to forage.
Thank you all once again.
