MOOMINS M.C.

This was the last photo I took before surgery.
The night before the surgery we had a little barbeque at my place, mainly for family and a couple of the housemates.
Marinated chicken and sausages with onions and mushrooms cooked over charcoal along with some fresh bread rolls and salads.
All fantastic grub I must say and just the thing to fill my tummy before that night's fasting.
I had learnt of a photographic competition that day and my only opportunity to do anything about it was that night.
So after the dinner Snorkmaiden and I took off to shoot the Bolte Bridge as that was the subject of the competition.
I soon relaised that my tripod attachment was on Teh 'Hoff and that was being serviced in the shop, so I had to improvise by shooting from the roof of the car and various structures like pylons and the like.
After driving around the docks we found some prohibited areas with container trucks being unloaded by forklift trucks.
I snapped off some shots and returned home where I spent some time reviewing the photos then picking and editing the one shot I could enter.
Not sure when the results come out, but hey at least I had a crack at it.


December 7th, 06:45 I arrived at the hospital and checked in at the appropriate ward.
A nurse came and took my blood, man I thought she was digging for gold or something, jab jab, stab poke and she finally got some of the precious crimson liquid.
After some preliminary interviews I was seen by the surgeon to be assisting in my operation.
All went well until he flicked through the notes and suspected that there was no plastic surgeon booked to lift the muscle graft on my leg.
For a moment I thought that the operation might be cancelled due to the lack of this crucial medico, but after a while I was informed that a plastic surgeon had been roped in at the eleventh hour.
Phew......

08:45 I was issued with an arseless gown and pointed towards a room and told that theatre was calling for me and that I need to get changed pronto.
I shut the door and stripped off everything including glasses, my earing and my grandfather's wedding ring and once again felt the sailcloth like starched material of the gown on my skin.
After a while a got up off the chair and went for a look through the window, not much to see there but some roof, rain and pigeon shit.
Still no one came.
Eventually I was pacing the confines of the 4x4 metre room, bare feet, butt cheeks flying in the breeze like some psychiatrically defective baboon extra from One Flew Over A Cuckoo's Nest.
I opened the door to see if what was going on and shortly an orderly turned up with a trolley / bed for me.
I hopped on and we took off to the familiar recovery room.
There I was met by my main orthopaedic surgeon and an anaesthetist who'd worked on me a few times previously.
The surgeon informed me that the plan was to removed the plates from the clavicle, tibia, radius ulna and the rods from inside both femurs.
He would attempt to break my ulna with his hands, if it didn't break he would leave the plate off, if it did then a bone graft and replating would take place.

09:30 I was rolled into theatre.
There I was placed on the operating table and attached to various machines that make all those beeping and pinging sounds.
The anaesthetist attached a line to me, gave me a shot of morphine and I once again felt the metallic taste in my mouth and was half way to having the nods, like I'd felt many times before.
Pretty soon it was on with the oxygen mask, a dose of the sleepy juice and I was out of it like a date rape victim.

12:30 I awoke from my artificially induced slumber fairly abrubtly as I was still being wheeled from theatre to recovery.
I was absolutely freezing!
Shaking like a dog shitting tacks I was, no worse, downright convulsing on the trolley.
Pretty soon I was in recovery and blanket after blanket was being piled onto my spasming body.
Eventually my body core temperature rose whilst a nurse administered doses of morphine for the pain that was beginning to make its presence felt more and more as my mind was becoming less distracted by the cold.
I lay there for some time with regular checks of my vitals and had a fantastic conversation with my nurse.
The surgeon paid me a visit and gave me the good news: all metal removed, no bone graft necessary.
Woo hoo!!! The only piece of metal left was the one in my pelvis but that's not coming out.
After some time I began to wonder how long I would be spending there and was informed that they were trying to find a bed for me.

17:30 I was informed that a bed was finally available and that a nurse would be coming down to grab me.
Funny thing was that as soon as he set foot in recovery my blood pressure started decreasing.
After a check with the anaesthetist on duty I was administered a glucose solution to increase my blood volume, as I'd lost a fair bit in theatre.
I lay there watching and willing my pressure to go up and with each automated measure it would go up a bit, then down a bit, then up some more, then down a bit until it was relatively stable once again.

19:00 I was finally transported to the ward.
Watching the signs on walls I noticed we may be heading towards the neurosurgery ward.
I was a mildly suspicious and asked the nurse what other parts of my body were operated on and he told me that the only bed left was on that ward.
And so I came to be on the brain surgery ward, where I mum, sis and Snorkmaiden were patiently waiting.
Luckily I'd placed and order for some soup with Snorkamaided earlier as I knew I would be ravenous and there was not much hope getting something from the kitchen.
I felt pretty good really, a little tired and sore, but I had my old friend back.
The morphine pump.
This time I vowed not to abuse it as my arse still remembers the little pump's ability to put a halt to my normal digestive tract functions and park a school bus in my colon.
That night I spoke to Amanda diagonally across from me.
She was a 31 year old mother of three who had suffered a brain bleed rendering her right side paralysed.
It was a condition from birth and there was a possibility it would happen again.
She was slowly regaining motor skills in that side and as plucky and stoic as she was I still heard her crying at night.
I got off lightly I reckon.


to be continued.......



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