Knocked Out

The NHS are building a vast new mortuary at the Queen Alexandra Hospital in Cosham (just outside Portsmouth) and it was the building footprint that I could see from my Day Patients Clinic ward as I waited for my hernia operation on Wednesday. They’ll have it ready for me by 2009 together with the rest of the hospital’s £200 million redevelopment. Quite a change from the small military hospital which first appeared on the site around 1904 – linked to Portsmouth centre by a tram service.

The surgeon reckoned that I might become argumentative so changed the plan to do me under a local anaesthetic and ordered the full knock-out general anaesthetic instead. He was probably right, but it does leave me rather ignorant about what went on. I just woke up an hour after going into the theatre with a large plaster on my tummy and (to my relief) my pubic hairs still intact. A cup of Nescafe and a slice of marmite toast later I was whisked away by my two responsible adults (the wife and sister-in-law) and driven straight to my place of work to process the day’s orders. Not much of a story in that!

The considered opinion is that I shouldn’t operate heavy machinery for a while, or make any major decisions. So the lawnmower remains unused and I’ll hang on to the wife and cat for the time being. There is also the thing about lifting things. It was very sensible to have the hernia done in August when things are quiet at work and typical of my customers that two “eighty-plus” book orders have rolled in immediately after the operation. The poor wife (with her injured foot) is acting as my “porter” for the time being and trundles after me down the corridors at work laden with parcels, briefcases, packing materials, etc., etc. I feel quite Victorian about it all, although I do get some strange looks from other workers on the premises.

Anyway, the forty-eight hours are virtually up so I’m off to have my first permitted (but shallow) bath – to the huge relief of the wife and the cat