Week 10 (Day 70) - Surgery day

The hospital have asked me to be in at 7am. Well, that's all to the good, given I'm not allowed to eat after midnight anyway so the less time I have to sit around and think about food, the better. My appetite never returned, but I do relish an egg on toast and a coffee in the morning. And a wispa bar.

So up at 5am, and have a bath, as I'm not sure when I'm going to be able to do that after that surgery. I was given a very bizarre list of instructions by the hospital:

• No nail polish (fine)
• No false nails or toenails (really? False toenails are a thing??)
• No food or drink (hello headache)
• No makeup (no kidding)
• No moisturiser (wait, what?? Why??)
• Bring dressing gown and slippers (don't own either, don't they provide those delightful gowns?). 

I assume men get a different checklist.

We arrive on time and are taken straight through to a private room. This is an unexpected bonus. I expected a multi-bed day ward.

I am told to take off everything except knickers (wish I'd known that, would have picked a more glamorous pair!), and get into the lovely gown. I also don my newly bought gray dressing gown. And I have a gorgeous pair of white Teds to manhandle my legs into as well. Sartorial splendour right there. 

We now have quite a few visitors. The nurse, who is lovely and has a trainee with her. I have to go through more forms, and update a few things - I forgot I was allergic to elastoplast. She takes my blood pressure (98 on 58, I'm surprised it's remained low despite the thought of needles in my future!). 

Mr Shoulder arrives at this point, to ask the nurse to get Emla cream onto the back of my hand. 

Ah. Well. It's already there actually. After a terrible experience in Sydney where the anaesthetist was supposed to give me gas first before the cannula and then refused, I didn't want to risk it, so had sourced my own Emla and the patch had been on for 2 hours by now. He rolls his eyes. 

He then reminds me what surgery we are doing (or himself maybe? I doubt the patient forgets), and tags my left arm. Things you learn - surgeons have their own tags like graffiti artists. Who knew. He also reminds me that there will be pain after the surgery - I say not as bad as the first week after the fracture though, right? Well, it could be (this freaks me out a little). He does say I'll be given a nerve block, so I won't feel anything at all for the day after the surgery. After that, well it could be bad, and I'll be given new pain meds to take. He is mostly interested in the allergies, but the iodine isn't a problem as they use hibiclens because so many people are now allergic to iodine. They will use clear hypoallergenic plasters if needed. 

Then the anaesthetist arrives, and also goes through the medical forms with me. She is most focused on the asthma, and asks me to bring my inhaler to theatre with me. She asks about the needle phobia, and says we need to decide whether the nerve block can be done before or after the general. I'm aware of the risk (google again, you see - there is some minor risk of doing it on unconscious people, basically as they can't scream to let you know you've gone wrong), but say I'm comfortable that it can be done after the general. 

I ask her whether I'm going to be sitting or lying for the operation, she confirms sitting. I suspected as much. It's called the beach chair position - the other option is lateral decubitus position, which a lot of surgeons don't like because your arm is in traction and it can damage your brachial plexus. But the beach chair position basically means you are stripped to the waist as soon as you are unconscious, cleaned, and then draped until just your arm is visible. 

Now we wait. The nurse pops in to tell me I'm second on the list and the first has just started. So I will be taken down around 9:30. 

The nurse comes back and I'm walked down to theatre. In the anaesthetic room, I'm told to remove my dressing gown and shoes - I really don't want to, it's absolutely freezing in there. I hand them to the nurse though, and I'm told to get onto the bed and to make sure that none of the hospital gown is under me. Hmm, that's because it's basically going to be stripped off me as soon as I'm out, I know.  The anaesthetist asks me to take my inhaler, but I point out it makes my hands shake. She says that's ok, as I'm not performing the surgery. Ha. 

The anaesthetist nurse is now also there, and as a lifelong needle phobe I can say that they do it very well indeed. Two nurses on my left side fussing with my gown, and getting me to take my inhaler, all while the anaesthetist takes the emla patch off my right hand and (other than a brief moment of panic when I realise what she's doing - the nurse is clearly ready for this and claps a gas mask on me and tells me to breathe), the cannula is in and it's over.  Impressive.

She tells me she's injecting some pain relief first and there's a syringe of pale yellow liquid pushed in. I lose consciousness before it gets to halfway, and I do remember thinking, well that's obviously not just pain relief.