Awake at 6am. Blood pressure. Pulse. Light in the eyes. Questions.
No breakfast.
Showered and changed. Nice clean gown to wear, open at the back. Another one to wear over the top so that the nurses are spared the view of my hairy arse. Compression stockings put on by one of the nurses.
It’s 8.30am. Porters arrive to take me to the operating theatre, and I’m wheeled into a room full of busy people, my wife by my side.
I see Ludvic Zrinzo, my neurosurgeon, who tells me that they will be performing both operations today because the anaesthetist felt that it was an unnecessary risk for me to have two general anaesthetics. So, that has taken the decision out of my hands. I’m glad about that, and so is my wife.
I see Professor Marwan Hariz, the head of the DBS team at the NHNN, and he introduces himself, and another neurosurgeon from South Africa who is going to be observing today.
I see Martha Orbach. Smile. Wave.
I see Jin, preparing the box that will be screwed onto my head to facilitate the accurate placement of the electrodes within my brain.
I see the anaesthetist.
Everyone is busy, everyone performing their assigned tasks. My wife kisses me goodbye, and I tell her I’ll see her later. Canulas are inserted, there’s a mask on my face. Relax. Breathe. Count backwards. Oblivion.
A minute passes and I’m awake again, but the clock in front of me tells me its almost 2.30pm.
My memory is blurred. I know there were people there, talking to me, making sure I was okay, but that’s all. I recall seeing my wife coming towards me, and entertaining the thought of a practical joke… I looked blankly at her, and was just about to say “Who are you?” when I saw the look on her face and decided against it. I think she would have fainted. I smiled at her and she smiled back. All is well.
I’m returned to the ward. Claude waves to me. Nurses bustling. Blood pressure. Pulse. Light in the eyes. Questions.
I feel fine. No pain. No sensation indicating the invasion of my body, the alien implants..
Time passes in a blur. Dinner arrives and I scoff the lot. Can’t really remember what I ordered, but I know it wasn’t wasted.
I’m offered pain relief, and hesitate. I’m not in pain, but aware that I may be before too long. I don’t want morphine, but might want paracetamol later. I agree with the nurse that I won’t take anything at the moment, but can call her at any time should I change my mind.
A couple of hours pass, and I change my mind. Paracetamol and codeine are administered.
Visiting time over, the ward now quiet, lights are dimmed. I’m wide awake. No chance of sleep right now. I sit up in bed, reading the Metro online, checking my emails, posting on Facebook, stretching my legs, circling my ankles, having myself a lying down workout, mindful of the danger of thrombosis (no blood thinning medications for brain surgery) and determined to minimise my risk.