I was expecting to be blogging about boating along the Bosphorus, or taking early morning photographs of the Blue Mosque, but unfortunately my much-anticipated trip to Istanbul was cancelled, as I recently went into hospital for surgery to have my appendix removed. It’s been a tiring and trying few days, as even a ‘routine’ operation is heavy with worry and concern, and I haven’t really spent much time in hospitals before.

The pain started earlier in the week, and I thought it was a stomach bug. By Friday evening it was excruciating, and I went to A&E at 2.30am, only to be told I’d have to wait four hours. Not fancying the wait, and with the pain dulled by Ibuprofen, I went home and slept for six hours before returning in the morning, being seen, checked in, and told I’d need the operation. Unfortunately due to the Bank Holiday weekend and a number of emergency ops, nothing happened that day, so I whiled away the time on painkillers that led to me drifting in and out of consciousness. In the evening I went on a walk down the corridor, pushing my IV drip with a fellow patient and feeling like a patient from One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. I slept reasonably well, but was woken up at 6am to have more drips attached, and then visited by an angelic vision at 8am that turned out to be the cute anaesthesiologist who would sent me to sleep for my op. I was wheeled out of the ward and into the surgical area, before having electrodes attached and given oxygen, and some weird chemical that made me light-headed and drunk. The last thing I remember was fixing on the cute anaesthesiologist’s eyes before I blacked out. When I came to, I was on the same bed in a big room. They gave me lots of morphine and I was wheeled back to the ward, where my family were waiting. It was probably too early to see anyone as I didn’t really know what was going on, and for the rest of the day I felt better than I actually was. The next two days were the hardest, least pleasant part of the whole experience, as I struggled to register where on a scale of sickness and health I was. I focused on getting out of hospital, and getting as much free morphine as possible. Priorities. Now I’m back in Birmingham, lying in bed writing this. The wound is healing up, but I still feel a bit woozy, hot and cold, and am not eating right. It will probably take the rest of the Easter week, and maybe a week after that, to get back to normal.

I’m grateful I didn’t have anything serious, and not too upset about Istanbul. The appendisectomy was just serious enough to make me realise one trip to Turkey doesn’t really matter, but also how grateful I am not to have to spend any more time in hospitals. Getting out of them as quickly as possible is important to restoring your sanity – just two nights in there was more than enough for me, and  I hope I don’t have to repeat the experience anytime soon. I am now one appendix lighter, having suffered great pains on Good Friday and delivered from suffering on Easter Sunday – sound like anyone you know? Yes, that’s right, I am Jesus, and I thought it was about time I told the whole world.

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