No op is a computer programming term, but I’m claiming it. No op is what happened today.
What a farce! I presented at the hospital at 10am, having had no breakfast and nothing to drink, so I was hungry and thirsty as hell. Got admitted and settled down to wait. I was well down the list, maybe 2pm.
I spent the first two hours dreaming of food and ways to solve the Minnie problem. Worried as hell, I can tell you. I was so thirsty! It amazes me that they will allow you to become dehydrated. I asked the anaesthetist if I could just suck an ice cube, but he said no! Any other time, they warn you NOT to become dehydrated. How can water cause a problem?
Anyway, about 12.20pm I was moved upstairs to “my” room, and at last I could set up my CPAP machine. I’d been so worried last night that I woke at 2.30am and never got back to sleep, so I was pretty tired.
I donned the stupid backwards gown, had the stupid stockings forced over my feet (and had the circulation cut off as a result!) and was lying there waiting for 2pm when the surgeon breezed in. I didn’t recognise him in his cute mob cap, but I said, “Oh, Gordon, g’day. How cute.” He has a sense of humour.
So he said, no operation, because you weren’t told to stop taking Clopidogrel and there’s too much risk of blood loss due to the thinness of your blood. (Who wants fat blood, yeah?)
So I said, OK, no worries, I can have lunch! I was relieved. I don’t care if it happens or not. He wants to reschedule for 3 March, but that’s too close to my next trip on 6 March, so I’ll just say, no, wait until I get back after 12 March…. sometime.
So I caught Blue CAT (and got jerked back and forth by a maniac bus driver! Accelerator, brake, accelerator, brake), then train from the Esplanade to Stirling and bus from Stirling to home. The bus driver stopped right outsdie my house for me. Very nice of him. A bit of respect for age from a mature guy. Cost to get from home to The Mount – $33.50 and 25 mins. Cost to get home — $0 and two hours. Oh well.
The taxi driver this morning was from Dubai, by the way. He has a six bedroom, three bathroom house in Ballajura and a $350,000 mortgage (and a demanding wife.) He’s 30 and already paid off one house and this is his second. His father in Dubai has two wives and a 17 bedroom house! So he said.
On the train there was a big pushbike parked right across two disabled seats. I saw this and thought, hang on, this is not right. Then the train stopped at Glendalough and a huge, young, muscly guy (with huge steroid type boobs under his T shirt, I might add) retrieved the bike and got off.
But he’d stopped anyone using those clearly marked disabled seats with his bike on the train. I WOULD NEVER HAVE DONE THAT! Never have dreamed of it. You just don’t. What is going on??!! They don’t care. Yet another reason why I want to get out of here.
A solution to my dog problem may be at hand. I won’t count my chickens, but it would be ideal. More later after I’ve discussed it properly.
I am knackered!