It nearly didn't happen again....
I arrived at 7.15am, and my nurse was lovely. He assured me I was 3rd on the list of 5 operations and so I should be operated on in the middle of the day. He did give me a clue it might be after lunch, but stared me in the eye twice and said "I promise it will happen today".
At 10am my nurse gave me 4oz of iced water so I knew I wasn't going in until at least noon.
At 12.30pm the surgeons were still on case no.2 and I knew it was definitely after lunch.
At 1.20pm I overheard - now, let me remind you at this point that we have 7 children. This is impossible to survive unless you have developed that very special skill of being able to direct your hearing towards an individual conversation occurring 2 rooms away. I wasn't intending to hear this conversation, but as someone was whispering in an angry way, my auto-pilot kicked in. - Anyway, I overheard a female on the phone saying "Well that's not fair, you can't do that. That lady has only just arrived and my other lady has been here since 7 o clock this morning". I went for a little cry in the toilet....
At 1.30pm when I emerged from the toilet, my surgeon was sitting on my bed waiting to draw an arrow on my leg and explain the procedure. I told him it was fine, he'd explained it 4 weeks ago and I could remember. I then looked him in the eye and said "I have a terrible headache but I'm next aren't I, they've told me I'm next". He looked at the floor and said "yes".
At 1.50pm I decided my surgeon was a liar
At 2.20pm the lady who's voice I'd heard on the phone came skipping in and said, "come on, it's you, you're going". She was very excited. She had an air of 'win' about her. I told her I'd heard her on the phone and said my heartiest thank you.
I actually went in for my operation at 3pm and came out at 4.15pm. At 5.10pm - exactly to the minute 4 weeks after I was sent home last time - my partner arrived to sit with me until I could go home at 6.15pm.
I had 2 litres of water to rehydrate me while I was under and I was still thirsty when I woke up. I've no idea why I dehydrate so badly, (I'm not particularly sweaty as far as I know, and no-one gave me deodorant for Christmas) but it really is torture and if I'd been bumped and not had my operation again I don't know if I could have handled the idea of going through it again so soon. Thankfully though, I hopefully won't need to.
My Surgeon wasn't very confident he's fully fixed my knee, but it should be lots better. When they got in there they found 2 separate injuries - the meniscus cartilage which we knew about and another. Annoyingly, as I was still under the influence of anaesthetic and painkillers, my Surgeon kindly directed most of his conversation towards both myself and my partner, who currently has the memory of a sieve because of the Meningitis, so neither of us actually remember or understood what the second injury was, but I've got a follow up in 2 weeks and I'll find out then.
I know this is my thigh, but don't focus on that (I was only just out of surgery and very drugged and I'd posted it online everywhere before I realised) just look at the hand print! This is a surgeon who signs his work!