Nice Cuppa & a Biscuit: a Post Surgery Blog

Today’s top tune

… and blatantly obvious photo …

Mr & Ms Blue Skies

Mr & Ms Blue Skies

Post general anesthetic hallucinations are subtly different from bipolar ones. At least, mine were.

Both, though, are fairly dull. I’ve yet to see Jesus on the telly, or anywhere else, for that matter. God may well be a Yorkshireman, but his lad doesn’t hang around here much. (1)

There are angels, though. Quite a few work for the NHS. (2) One who doesn’t, so far as I know, is a poorly lady who I’ll call Lily. She was one of the patients on my ward.

The nurses & their assistants brought me a very welcome cuppa – my second since leaving surgery, and returning to the ward – but didn’t have any biscuits. Apparently Hob Nobs, custard creams, and bourbons are recent victims of government cut-backs, and austerity.

Lily, gods bless her, took pity on a slightly dozy American (3), and offered me two of her own packet of Rich Teas. I’m not usually a Rich Tea fan, preferring a nice Penguin, or Jammy Dodger, or the fabulous chocolate-covered biscuits sold by Ringtons, the tea company which delivers to your door. (4)

Those two Rich Teas, and the cuppa that accompanied them, were the nicest cup of tea & biscuits, ever, in the History of Man&Womankind.

Post surgery, & back home. Still crap at selfies.

Post surgery, & back home. Still crap at selfies.

I’ve now had my first general anesthetic, and surgery. I’m nearly 57, so I’ve done well to have been a surgery virgin for so long, and I’m grateful for it.

I wrote the first draft of this blog whilst still in hospital. The lovely ladies who work in the local breast cancer care department were spot on when they said I’d be allowed home “when you can eat, drink, & pee”.

Bless them, & bless whoever it was – my cancer key worker, I suspect – who warned me that I’d have blue wee for awhile after surgery. It makes sense: the dye which the surgeon inserted to help her locate things has to come out somehow/where. Still, I wasn’t all that with it when I first went to the ward toilets. I’d hate to have pressed the buzzer in a panic, over what was perfectly normal post-surgery pee.

It was a beautiful blue. Also the first – and, I hope, last – time I’ve ever been tempted to take a photo of my urine.

Mural man frowns at the thought of wee photos: Sheffield, 2016

Mural man frowns at the thought of wee photos: Sheffield, 2016

No, I’m not posting a picture. I do think of my readers from time to time. Also, what a daft reason to be kicked off WordPress, eh?

I’m not posting a picture of my blue right nipple, either, as not just WordPress, but also, I suspect, my ISP, probably have rules about that sort of thing.

Having a photo taken of my blue boobie just for me to see, however, is on my list of things to do now I’m back home.

A bit higher up the list are slipping on my favourite pjs; ringing Dad, & my sister; contacting friends, & tidying away the contents of the overnight bag I took with me, “just in case”.

First item on the list? A nice cup of tea, and a biscuit.

This blog is dedicated to Lily, and with heartfelt thanks to all the doctors, nurses, nursing assistants, & other hospital employees who looked after me, and made my stay such a short, yet pleasant one.

Here’s to the NHS! x

A nice cup of tea, and a ginger biscuit. Day made!

Nice cup of tea, & a ginger biscuit. Job’s a good ‘un!

(1) I’m sure there’s folk here who would disagree.
(2) Gods bless the National Health Service (NHS). It’s saved my arse – and millions of others – many a time. I pay my stamp with pride, & thanks.
(3) Read that as meaning, “even dozier than usual”. Which is pretty damn dozy.
(4) From a plug for the NHS, to one for Ringtons.

Tagged: austerity, bipolar, breast cancer, Cancer, Doncaster Royal Infirmary, DRI, government cut backs, hallucinations, hospital, NHS, Rich Tea biscuits, Ringtons, surgery, tea and biscuits

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