Wedsnesday 29th August 2012 came upon me like a brick to the head. The day of my tonsillectomy!

Cue lots of nervous poo’s, lots of pretending it wasnt happening and lots of hunger.

I arrived at the hospital for 10:15am and was shown to my hospital bed on the ward. My surgery wasnt until the afternoon, and id not eaten since 7:00am. I was starving! Only being allowed to drink water cheesed me right off aswell.

Me head was a buzz of fears and thoughts….MRSA,bleeding,waking up during surgery and being in lots of pain once the surgery was over. For this was my first operation and i was crapping it!

Mum was with me, but i didnt want to make small talk, i just wanted to be out of there like a shot. All the waiting and worrying had left me a bit of a state despite the calm exterior i was showing.

Around 12pm i got into my gown and circulation stockings, i looked hideous to say the least, everyone on the ward the same. All i kept thinking was “i’am not a number”

Fast forward a few hours and 2:30pm arrives, so does a porter named Martin who is about to wheel me down to get my line put in and be knocked out for theatre. I feel extremely anxious and abit shaky but try to convince myself it’ll be over before i know it.

He wheels me into the lift and makes a lame joke about going down the stairs in the hospital bed, i know his trying to make me feel better but i just want to punch him in the face and tell him to shut up. I dont want to talk to anyone, i just want to go home!

For a moment, i’am distracted when Martin and a nurse start talking about a wealthy patient who was some prince. He had a silver service,food cooked especially and lots of flowers delivered which had be to stuck out in the lobby becuase their not allowed in the wards.

Yet before i know it and have had time to earwig their converstaion in wheeled into the anesthetic room. Im greeted by a young man who is going to put my line in….well make an attempt which was an epic fail on his behalf!

So im laying there, and he faffs around trying to find a decent vein in the back of my hand. He pokes around with the needle pushing so hard im wincing in pain, they have to put the oxygen mask on me to calm me down. This is the last shit i need!

An older gentleman is to my right, he looks like Rolf Harris and says i can hold his hand. I liked him, he really did look like Rolf Harris and was quite happy to talk to me about my two year old son to try and take my mind off the butchering of my left hand.

In the end another anaesthetist got the line in my hand, after telling the younger guy that he had gone under the vein!

They started pumping me full of the good stuff and before i know it, i can feel myself drifting away.

Next thing i know, im in recovery and am talking complete crap to the nurses, aparantly i started talking about my son and that he was with my mother in law and then i said “ive been dreaming about ebay”

I can feel blood in my mouth and go to spit, however im spitting in my oxygen mask, still dazed and confused i guess. I start to shake…uncontrollably, they tell me its normal but i cant control it, so on the oxygen mask goes again. It makes my nose itch and is drying out my lips and mouth.

Within half and hour im wheeled back onto the ward, mums there and its nice to see a familiar face. I dont feel too bad, and actually feel pretty hungry. Ive got away with the pain i think…….