Surgery - the aftermath

I’m really glad to be back home after Wednesday’s surgery at Beirut’s American University Hospital (AUH).

Don’t misunderstand, the hospital staff, all Lebanese, were wonderful. Food appeared at regular intervals. A succession of nurses wrote their names and drew smiley faces on a strategically placed white board and insisted on pouring pain medication into me at regular intervals. I was interviewed on my experience by the head of nursing, the head of administration, a team of no less than six surgical residents (at least I think that’s what they were, sincere apologies if I have their titles wrong). The only problem was that my best thing had become sleeping; I’d suddenly got very good at it, dropping off without warning anywhere, anytime, probably because of all the pain killers! So my main experience was the bed and my major problem staying awake.

Topics of conversation were basic and limited. The sort of questions you’d hesitate to ask yourself in the privacy of your own bathroom had suddenly become subjects for group discussion. Normal rules of modesty and decorum had flown out of the window. “Do you mind if I shave you now, or would you rather wait until you’ve been anaesthetised?” my face was not in the equation, so I decided to watch and at least feel some semblance of control over the process. Some chaps, it seems, get quite exercised over the loss of body hair and can only be “done” when safely unconscious!

Strange it is then that in spite of having a veritable army of highly trained carers able to approach the most sensitive of topics with a disarming mixture of empathy and unconcern, I’m glad to be home in spite of all the problems posed. Problems? Well it’s amazing what we take for granted in daily life – the bed was too low for me to get back out of without assistance, so I spent the first night back home on a recliner – a friend once congratulated us on our swimming pool when seeing the master bathroom, but the sides assumed Everest proportions for a day or so; as for getting in and out of the car, well it’s just as well I can dial out the sound of horns honking.

I am under strict instructions to avoid driving and stairs for a week (especially at the same time, presumably!), and then not to cough, nor lift heavy weights nor take any exercise other than walking for six weeks. I’m not supposed to sneeze either, but have no idea how to stop that happening, oh and I have to watch what I eat but since the visual appeal of food is important to me, I always do that!.

Time to finish, I feel another snooze coming on, but at least I can choose now, the bed or the chair – that’s the main difficulty in being back home, all those decisions!

Surgery? - It's just routine!

On Wednesday I go under the surgeon’s knife.

“Don’t worry, a hernia is a very common problem in men, putting it right is a routine operation with a 96% probability of success,” intoned the instantly likeable fellow whom I’ve chosen to fillet me and stitch me back together again.

Now that sentence really needs some close examination. Routine. ROUTINE!! No it jolly well isn’t. Routine is having a cup of tea on waking each morning, routine is going to the supermarket once a week, routine is changing the bed sheets regularly, historians suggest that the Elizabethan habit of taking a bath twice a year was routine even if it was more regular than frequent. But injecting me with just enough poison to render me unconscious without killing me and then invading my insides with instruments I don’t ever want to see is definitely NOT routine.

And what about that 96% chance of success? Twenty-four to one on as the bookies put it. Pretty well a racing certainty, but would you bet your life savings even at those odds? Put differently, how would you feel about “your captain and crew wish to welcome you aboard KamiKaze airlines, there is a 4% chance of failure, but don’t worry and have a pleasant flight”? Get me to the emergency exit NOW.

Finally how about that rather arrogant “I have chosen” – it’s to give me the impression I’m still in some sort of control. Hmmm Graham, glad to see the art of self-delusion isn’t dead then are we? I was warned that he is a fanatical devotee of a certain European football club, so we consulted the match schedule to ensure there was no possibility of him operating on me the day after his side loses, an eventuality that brings on something akin to clinical depression apparently, and the last thing anyone needs is a suicidal surgeon. See - I’m still at it, kidding myself I’m controlling the date, when it’s actually just the first available one on his list.

Just in case you hadn’t spotted it, underneath this calm Anglo-Saxon sang-froid (this is Lebanon so mixing up languages is er, well, yes that’s the word - routine) logical acceptance is trying hard not to turn into emotional panic.

And then came a ‘phone call from a family friend – “Why didn’t you choose my husband to operate on you, he’s a pioneer in this field!” Oh dear, I’ve managed to offend someone as well. Suddenly the answer struck me, "Sorry, I didn't think he'd be interested in something 'routine'"!

Public speaking anyone? The English Speaking Union addresses the BLBG

What would you do with a spare $100?

Enjoy a celebration dinner for two? Buy a designer label shirt perhaps? Order the top five or so best selling books from Amazon? Start a successful organisation to promote the English language?

“Whoops, sorry, could you run that last one past me again please?” do I hear you say? Certainly, no problem, because that’s exactly what Youmna Asseily did in 2003.

Youmna is chairman of the Lebanese chapter of the English Speaking Union (ESU). A British charity, founded just after World War I, there are now over sixty other chapters in such diverse places as Australia, Brazil and China. Yesterday evening, Youmna addressed members of the British Lebanese Business Group (BLBG) with the stated objective of explaining the work of ESU Lebanon and as an aside showed us the power of oratory in action (that’s speaking to inspire - without the “help” of PowerPoint). A joy to watch and to listen to she was.

To digress, yesterday was International Women’s Day centenary, so to have Youmna address the BLBG on that day was both serendipitous and apposite. Her audience was not quite half ladies, but did include HE Ambassador Frances Guy, and the Director of the British Council, Barbara Hewitt a grouping that would have been rather different in 1911. Given that sixty per cent of UK graduates are now women, I suspect that the currently lowly percentage of women on the Boards and in charge of British companies will have changed dramatically in less than another hundred years.

But back to the ESU Lebanon – Youmna explained that it has four main programs to achieve its stated aim of promoting international cooperation through the use and practice of English. There’s an annual public speaking competition; ESU Lebanon are rightly proud that it was won by a Lebanese student last year, earning him a trip to Buckingham Palace to receive his award from Prince Phillip: doubtless a treasured memory for life. The Debating challenge, drama experience through a tie-up with the Shakespeare Globe Theatre and workshops in creative writing with the help of the University of Iowa make up the other three. Donations and memberships fund these and provide the means for sending a few lucky young people on scholarships too.

If you want to help the work of this organisation or just want to know more, click on the links to go direct to ESU Lebanon’s web-site. And if you can’t think of a way of spoiling yourself with that spare thirty odd dollars, never mind a hundred, you could always become a member of ESU Lebanon with it.