As I lay on the operating table, listening to the orthopaedic surgeon make off-colour remarks about the entire profession of pathology I thought to myself, "Am I really one of the 0.0068% of patients who experience wakefulness during surgery, or am I making this all up to make the blog sound more interesting?"
After all, the story "I had a general anaesthetic and the next thing I knew I was in the recovery room waiting for a cup of tea" is hardly the most compelling story. Whereas describing how the surgeon opened up my elbow, like Theresa May eating a Cadbury's Cream Egg with a knife and fork, is far more graphic, and also completely untrue.
Most depressing of all is the music I'm going to claim was playing in the operating theatre as I clung to life by my, er, elbow. I wasn't Elbow. A chance missed. Not even Guy Garvey solo stuff. Julian Casablancas. My word, couldn't the surgery team of my imagination have come up with something more experimental?
Time passed. It would have passed, anyway, but being awake as I was ever so gently wired back together and a compressive force, to counter the tension from the triceps tendon, just sounds more dramatic. Meanwhile my poor old brother was waiting outside, playing Tetris on his Gameboy, while I didn't experience an out-of-body-experience that few have experienced.
So. Here I am. In some discomfort, and unable to do anything useful with my left arm, other than flag down taxis, for at least the next two weeks. What with Kate due to have spinal surgery on Friday this could all have come at a better time. Can anyone help me change this t-shirt?
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