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!