I'm dreaming and then I'm awake...it's 4.45pm - two hours after I went down. A nurse offers me Oramorph which I take and I close my eyes again. But that seems wrong somehow. I need to wake up! Why I think this I really don't know...The bed is pushed back to the day case pods and I am offered a cup of tea and a sandwich. Tuna and cucumber please. The whooziness recedes quite quickly although I wouldn't like to stand up. I drink the tea and eat the sandwich - delicious. My mouth is so dry. I text family and friends to tell them that I am still alive and that it's all done. The consultant comes to see me - I think - and says that everything went well and it was very straightforward. Did he? Who knows.
I drink another cup of tea but then wish I hadn't because it seems to push me back in the queue to go home and suddenly there doesn't seem to be anyone left in the pods. Eventually the nurse comes back and sorts me out with information, painkillers (take them!) and helps me get dressed. I manage most of this on my own. I want to ask her to take my blood pressure because I feel really quite strange with a feeling like a stone in my chest but who knows if this is normal? I think I am going to be sick but I just want to go home and my partner is outside and only has 15 minutes to pick me up. I'm sure I'll be fine. I am wheelchaired out, get in the car and go.
Once home I go straight to bed. 'Wake me up when you want to go to the loo' I am told. It's a weird night - when I wake up again only about an hour and a half has passed. How can that be? Great disappointment. It's not even past midnight. Stubbornly - stupidly really - I go to the loo on my own...this continues through the night and at 3am I realise that my heart is going like the clappers with a few slower beats in between...I also have dreadful acid reflux...Should I phone the unit and ask if this is normal? I daren't close my eyes 'I'll be dead before morning' I think. Then it IS morning. I am still here. Tea and toast and, really, not much pain. Small mercies.
