At 9:30 this morning I had that impending sense of doom that only seems to come during battles with the NHS.
The nurse started by telling me they didn't have my notes.
Once they were found I had my consultation with the surgeon. Her opening gambit to me was "These notes are very confusing. Are you having a Mirena coil put in?"
If I hadn't been in such a weakened state from lack of food and drink I might have concussed myself from banging my head repeatedly against the table. This may be the reason they ban folk from sustenance prior to operations.
Luckily something about yesterday's pre-op had given me an inkling this might happen so I had carefully written out my expectations for the operation, what drugs I am taking now, what drugs I expected afterwards.
Once we had sorted that out and I'd waited, and waited, and a bit more waiting I went up for the anaesthetic.
Frankly my dears, opiates are for the win.
I loved it.
I was only out for an hour and woke feeling refreshed, happy, compos mentis and in absolutely no pain.
Now, a few hours later, I'm on the sofa - watching my choice of TV - and feeling a little light headed but generally all good. It really wasn't bad at all.
You are welcome to leave comments pointing out that a) you told me so and b) that I should stop being such a big girl's blouse.
And in return, I want to wish all of you a FANTASTIC CHRISTMAS!
Have a great ones, dudes.