The Hunger Games

Ahh the day of surgery.  Fasting is such fun!  Nil by Mouth from 6:30am they said.  Then you'll go down to theatre around lunchtime they said.  So we will bring you breakfast at 6am they said.

Lies.  All lies.

I woke up around 5:30am with a very sore body (especially after stacking it in the bathroom the night before which had officially made me a 'falls risk' and I wasn't allowed to get up anymore boooo).  I was a bit hungry, so was very excited to get breakfast.  6:05, 6:10, 6:15 no breakfast.  6:20, 6:25 and I was starting to worry that no food would appear before I had to stop eating.  Finally, like an angel, a lovely person came and put a tray in front of me.  Realising I only had five minutes and fearing a nurse appearing and whisking my eggs and bacon away, I scoffed that tray of food down in record time (Man V's Food had nothing on me!), drank the juice, drank the tea and was feeling very impressed with my effort.

Of course then the hours ticked away.  Mum arrived in anticipation of the lunchtime surgery and we sat and looked at each other - 1pm, 2pm, 3pm, 4pm, 5pm, 6pm - I could've had bloody lunch!!  Around 3 mum went off to get some food and said 'I won't eat in front of you if you don't want' due to my hangry status and impending temper tantrum.  'Don't be silly I said - it's fine.'  She then proceeded to go and return to my room with what was quite possibly the most delicious smelling thing from the cafe that she could have bought.  Mum then sat eating it, squashed into the corner of the room with me watching her through narrowed eyes while she refused to make eye contact.  Luckily I had my old friend, morphine to help get me through.

By 6pm, I was hungry, cranky, stressed and tired.  I just wanted this operation to be over so I could start staring at my leg in a vaguely threatening manner in order to command my bones to knit back together at an accelerated rate.  Finally someone arrived to take me to theatre.  I've never been so happy in my life.

So I'm laying in my bed in the anaesthetic area, waiting to go into the operating room when I heard a banjo playing and after thinking I'd lost it for a minute Dr Footz came into the room and said 'can you hear that?  We're playing Keith Urban over the sound system during the operation for you.'  Well played Footz, well played, it completely took my mind off the bag of tools, screws and plates I saw next to to operating table as I was wheeled into the room.  So I drifted off to pleasant KU dreams and next thing I knew I was waking up to Keith singing Wasted Time (which I hoped wasn't a sign about the operation I'd just had) with a brand new cast and a leg being held together by 10 screws and one enormous plate.  Hands down best Keith Urban themed surgery ever.






Back to the ward to sleep and to wake up every 30 mins to look suspiciously at mum and the BFF who were waiting in the room.  The only other thing I remember is waking up at one point and thinking the BFF was wearing a cape - Batgirl was in my room.  She can call it a shrugalero all she wants - it's a cape.

Roll on breakfast.