A different day

….trust me I’m a doctor

Jul 06, 2023

How’s your day? I’m guessing that if you’re reading this, then it started in much the same way as mine…. as most people in fact, eyes open and conscious breath in - there the similarity ends as we each go about our way into our day. Our usual practices fall into place - of washing and breakfast, getting dressed, a quick run or not, checking emails. The familiarity of pattern is reassuring. What lies ahead?

An early start for best beloved and I, akin to when you’re taking an early flight to some distant shore and as the world sleeps you’re loading cases in the boot and off. Today we are making a trip of a different kind. It is a different day.

When I woke it was already light and for me, started with a cup of tea. For BB, nil by mouth…. I wondered about the difference in how our bodies/minds approached this day. He facing orthopaedic surgery and me, I’m his support. There were some nervous jitters in my own tummy and I could see some small anxiety written on his face. I wondered at how our surgeon embraced another day where he would slice into the flesh of another human being with a sharp knife, hammer and saw, chip and slice at bone to embark on repair. What was breakfast for him? Steak tartare perhaps or at the very least 3 Weetabix? The full reality of circumstance and experience, whether we’re on the table or standing beside it wielding the tools of our trade, felt like a deep moment of awareness for me. I would walk in and out of the hospital as a participant, but not a main player. The other two would walk through the doors feeling very differently about the day’s timetable. Confidence and uncertainty meeting in the operating theatre.

Our journey was exceptionally beautiful. Empty country roads where morning hedgerows sparkled and shimmered, birds twittered and climbing Roses clinging to old stone walls leaned out to welcome an early sun, opening themselves up to the warmth. There wasn’t much conversation in the car, I’m sure we were both nursing a mixture of thoughts. I felt the joy of this beautiful start, the gentle pace of our drive and the absence of other cars. I also silently prayed his safety and well being. We often think the same things at the same time, with one of us voicing the thought out loud. Today was no different, both acknowledging the blessing of living in such a pretty place. The fact that all of our routes these days take us through ancient villages and along country lanes. We pass rolling fields and old barns, barley and corn waving in the breeze, shepherd’s purse and poppies, orchards and scampering rabbits. The whole is a feast and we feed on it, the first part of today is our starter. The main course may not be quite so palatable….

At the hospital, it’s easy to park - it’s early - and we’re greeted by a friendly receptionist who tells us that BB is not on the list…. I can see this is not well received, there has been much mental psyching up for today, quietly, privately, but definitely a making of personal preparation. A bubble of confidence she has pricked and burst with this simple information. It is a blip. He is found on a different list and all is well again, the mental readiness restored. Phew we are not going home with a defunct knee.

We’re directed to the ward and make our way up. Check in at reception, shown to a room and a perfectly made bed which can not be used until after surgery. It carries a label of its cleanliness, dated, timed and signed. The nurses are charming and efficient. BB’s personal nurse is from Kerala. I’ve just finished reading the wonderful book A Covenant of Water by Abraham Verghese, which is set in Kerala among the St Thomas Christians, of which she is one. We talk at length about her home, I’m well-informed now and can easily picture the land she describes so vividly and with such enthusiasm. I feel I’d like to give her the book… our surgeon calls in and is very easy to like, jovial and professional, kind. Our anaesthetist also comes by, another man of charm and honesty. He outlines, in simple terms, the plan for a spinal and sedation to see the op through without ‘feeling a thing’. They both have an ease about them that’s comforting, trustworthy. I have such a soft spot for the medical profession. Having worked in hospitals for a long time, (my first job), my great respect for their ability remains unchanged. The NHS has altered dramatically over the years, but the medics I’ve known, surgeons and anaesthetists, physicians and researchers, are among the best who’ve peopled my life. Especially those where one senses a vocation drives their work. Flawed like the rest of us, but intentional menders and repairers of other broken humans.

A message comes through at 13.48, all is well and the drugs are clearly working. There is a rush of relief. I’ve busied myself since I got home, prepping the Annexe for next guests arriving on Monday. I needed a distraction. Hadn’t realised but I think I’ve been holding my breath…. Feel exceptionally blessed to know BB’s experience has been a good one, of course once the opiates are out of his system, I’m pretty sure I’ll be witness to a different tone. Visiting isn’t until this evening, I’ll be there and will assume nursing duties from tomorrow afternoon if all continues to go well.

It seems amazing to me that after major surgery, you are fit and well to return home 24 hours later. Gone are the days of long hospital stays and bed rest. The thinking is completely different now and we continue to learn new best practice. It will only be a blink of an eye before we’re growing bone on a petri dish from patient cells and 3D printing the replicating part for knee replacements. As things stand, it’s pretty incredible that an hour and a half sees the job done.

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