Author: Charles Céleste Hutchins

When I got out to the ward, I felt good enough to start blogging and high enough from opiates to think it was a good idea – and to make loud declarations about my genitals when offered a bottle to pee into. This is probably part of why they wanted me to stay in bed rather than try to walk.
My surgeon came by, and was concerned about my left drain. She thought it might need to be flushed out in the morning, which would be a second operation under full anesthetic. She asked that I get no food after midnight.
Paula stayed with me a while and then visitng hours were over. It was a dramatic night. One old man kept wanting to know where his wife was. A young guy woke up screaming and ripped out his IV line. Then morning came. My left side still seemed swollen to me, but when the surgeon came by, she said it was ok. I felt very relieved.
she told me to try walking around some and to move more like i would at home. She also told me that they’d been forced to take out my ear piercing and it had been lost. It was a ring through my upper cartilage, which was alright, but it did get in the way a bit when i wanted to wear headphones for more than an hour. Apparently, it’s a very big deal when a piece of jewlry gets lost. I’m not overly bothered by this, but the principle is important, she said.
I would need to spend another day in hospital to have my drains observed.
The drugs given to me by the anesthesiologist were all wearing off and i began to feel ill. Paula came to visit and coaxed me into eating a bit. In a sharp contrast to my other nurses, the one i had then was not sympathetic. Paula eventually interceeded and i got a shot of something that was supposed to make me feel better. It took the edge off, but didn’t really help. Around midnight, i rung my buzzer to tell the night nurse that I thought I was going to be sick, but I ended up demonstrating the verb rather than saying it. I didn’t keep anything i had swallowed that day.
A doctor came around to talk to me. I told him I had tossed my cookies. He looked bemused. I said, “is that something you can say in Britain?” He said he got my meaning and then he poked at my stomach and prescribed some drugs for constipation, as apparently the food I ate just had nowhere to go. The nurse came around later with two gigantic syringes. I was alarmed, but she noted the IV thing is still in my arm. So the contents of the two huge syrninges went into there. Then she gave me pills and a sweet liquid. She told me to drink a lot of water with the liquid. I actually felt thirsty, which was a change.
In the morning, I felt dizzy and weak and could barely sit up. But as my stomach settled and I ate things, I gradually felt more alive.
A doctor came by to examine my wounds and said that my right drain should be removed. A nurse came around later and depressurised the drain container, which apparently has some suction on it. Then she used a bunch of pointy tools to pull the hose out of my chest. It was kind of uncomfortable, but didn’t hurt overly and afterwards, it was a nice relief.
Because the left drain was still in, they would keep me for another night. But the ward was getting ready to close for the weekend, so they got a push chair to move me upstairs. I was greatful not to have to walk as I still felt kind of dizzy.
The ward that they moved me to seemed to be full of people suffering from weekend-related accidents. Directly opposite me was a very unhappy man with his arm in a sling, being gaurded by two bobbies. The cops were on the phone, trying to figure out who had arrested him. Other people had broken arms, dog bites, etc. When Paula came to visit, she said it seemed more peaceful than the previous ward, but she missed the arrested guy angrily explaining about how he was the victim and was intending to sue the police.
“Are you alright?” Paula wanted to know, “Jara says you haven’t been on facebook for hours!”
As of this very morning, they say they’re going to let me out. A doctor has come to tell me my prescriptions and my remaining drain has been depressurised. I feel good enough that I think I could go straight home, but am relieved that I don’t have to.
I’ve gotten top quality care here and at no charge. The NHS is fabulous. Socialised healthcare is awesome.

Somebody was moving my shoulders. “I’m sorry, I think I fell asleep.” I said and opened my eyes. I was in the recovery room and still quite groggy. I was shivering or started to shiver and then got a warm air blower and put the pipe of it under my blanket. It seemed to work instantly.
it seemed like a flurry of activity around me, but it’s also possible that i slept between spread out things. Also i had a blood pressure cuff that did measurements every 5 minutes. I can’t remember many details, but the nurses were very good.
The room haf 9 gurney bays and there was one nurse for every 3 gurneys plus 1 or 2 extras to spell them on breaks or help for 2 person jobs. My nurse was named Helen. When she got her tea break a nurse named Joan filled in. They were both brilliant. Capable and caring. They were lovely.
Not long after I became alert, my left drain started filling quickly, such that it was nearly half a litre of blood. They asked what to do and were told to sit me more upright. That worked.
they gave me morphine in a drip, but not enough to make me loopy. Then they gave me some water. Then tea! Such lovely tea. It soothed my sore throat, and was one of the most satisfying cups of tea ever. Then a sandwich. Then a pain pill.
I looked down at my bandaged chest and was filled with a profound sense of relief. I was fine. I made it. It worked! It was amazing. Somethingthat for years I was afraid to even want and it was done and I was ok.
However, because of the drain issue, They thought they might need to send me back to the theatre, so I was in the recovery room for a long time, so I chatted w Helen and had more tea. Eventually, a surgeon that I didn’t recognise said it would be fine and i got sent to a ward.
A gurney pusher and two nurses, one of them a student at Kings College, came to move me. They asked an elevator full of people to clear out for me. “Sorry,” i said to a woman who got off. “You must be very important,” she joked. “Everywhere I go, the paparazi!” I said. The gurney didn’t take up the whole elevator, so the nurses were telling people to squeeze in. “Come on, get in there. Ok, now climb on top!” “He’s a bit too young for me” the woman said.
We got to the ward and Paula was there.

I woke up before 5 this morning, took what i knew would be my last shower for a while, gave myself a T shot, packed my bags and got on the tube. My appointment letter was for 7 but I arrived almost 20 minutes early and waited for the surgical admissions lounge to open. That was the same place I had gone for my previous appointment, at which they had collected vital signs and data. A sign by the door said they open at 7, but it closer to 10 minutes after that.
The head nurse gave a speech about the admissions process. He then called us by name one at a time and asked us if we wanted to give them a phone number for a visitor. I gave them Paula’s number and later they called her and told her what ward i was in.
at the same time, other nurses were calling people one at a time and taking temperature, blood pressure, weight and allergy information. Shortly after I talked to the nurse, I got called by the anesthesiologist who explained a bit about the drugs she would give me to kill pain, knock me out, keep me from feeling ill, etc. She (or the nurse before, i can’t remember now) game me two red id badges- one for each arm. They’re red to indicate that i have allergies. Which are to two different antiobiotics. She told me they do my op around 10.
i went to wait again and then the surgeon called me in. She drew on my chest in permanent marker. “You’re quite wonky, aren’t you?” She said. Apparently my spine is curved which she said was the reason my moobs were very assymetric. I felt guilty about my bad posture and tried to blame playing sousaphone in school, but she said it was likely genetic. I told her that a piercer had said i had weird nipples and she sympathised with the piercer! The lack of social skills made me more confident in her surgical skills.
She explained how the op would work: they cut away tissue around my nipples, while keeping the nerves and blood vessels attached to them. Then the would sew that to what was left. She explained that an insufficient blood suplly could cause a nipple to fall off, but told me should build a very comvincing new one and tattoo on an areola and it would like fine, so i shouldn’t worry. Sensataion in my nipples will be decreased. Then, she went through a consent form and asked me to sign it.
i went back out to the lounge and checked my email and then started to read a book. They called me up again and said it was time to get changed. I was extremely nervous. I took off all of my clothes and put on a hospital gown, a bathrobe, anti-bloodclot socks and foam slippers. The the nurse took me downstairs to another nurse who double checked everything. Yet another nurse took me to the anesthesiologist’s room. In it was a gurney, which i lied down on. They put electrodes on me and a needle into my hand. There was a large numbers of ampoukes laid out.
The doctor chatted about her honeymoon in california as the she gave me a shot of pain killer and the nurse gave me an oxygen mask. Then the doctore hooked up a huge vial of milky white stuff she said would know me out. She warned me it would sting.
“so this is the last ting i’m going to remember.” I said and then verified that it does sting. I thought about how it was very odd to have an experience knowing it was going to be erased. I could already be past the point of where i would forget, but right now it was all real and i felt very present. I don’t know what I felt after that.