I don’t sugar coat shit.. I’m not Willy Wonka.

Buckle up baby we’re in for a rough ride to the OR today but let’s stop en-route, load up on narcotics and get comfortably numb so we don’t shit ourselves or run for the hills at the last minute.  

I’m gowned up in my absurd backless ensemble + banana yellow socks et al. Attempted to put on Tuesday knickers only to be advised these aren’t hospital issue and had to replace with sexless paper pants. M acquired a black marker and scrawled ‘C U Next Tues Bambi’ across the back.

Soon I found myself in a labyrinth of state of the art neurosurgical heaven.  I was feeling happy and relaxed after the racy little cocktail I’d just necked and was so busy staring at the starry ceiling completely forgot that my skull was about to be delved into by what seemed like a team of 85 medical professionals and a fancy pink unicorn elegantly cantering around the perimeter of the room.

Five hours later I woke with a monumental sanitary napkin wrapped around my head and my knickers had been replaced by a bright pink catheter attached to a clear plastic handbag thingy which was busy collecting pale yellow fluid from my bladder.  I’m a trend setter sweetie.

I was wheeled into recovery and attended to by a very handsome TV-soap-star-worthy doctor who continuously stroked my arm and asked if I knew what my name was.  ‘Yes I know what my name is, but what’s yours honey?’ I found myself repeating. 

Next time I woke I was in a private room on the ICU.  Yay no sharing.  I met many people in scrubs and was informed that Bambi had doubled in size in a week .. fucking fat yellow cow!  But she was out in her entirety and currently being scrutinised under a microscope in the path lab. We’d have some answers by Friday with any luck.

I was asked many questions to determine how much of my short term memory I might have lost.. What’s your name? Sarah. How old are you? 47. Where are we? Disneyland. What’s your husband’s name: Brad. Seems spot on to me!

Meanwhile my phenomenally artistic and beautiful ICU nurses Heather and Nicole have magic markers and made me ‘days of the week’ knickers out of hospital issue pants.. what totally cool chicks they are.  I’m now all set for Thursday and Friday at least.


3 thoughts on “I don’t sugar coat shit.. I’m not Willy Wonka.

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