So basically the last thing I was going on about was how easily it was agreed that my bunions needed attention. Fast foward to the night before my operation and I'm running about the house like a dafty trying to get on top of housework, kid's stuff and general 'stuff' - partly to be as organised as possible heading into my operation and also as a total distraction about going into an operation.
The morning of the op went smoothly - up early, got organised, had a cup of herbal tea before 6.30 then waited for my lift. Arrived at the hospital on time and barely had time to sit down before I was called through. So a quick chat with the doctor to confirm what operation I was about to have and then I was taken through to the ward to sit and wait. And so began the stream of people who approach you and ask you to confirm your date of birth. Every 5 minutes. Every person you talk to in hospital ask you your date of birth. Sometimes it's even the same person, just 10 minutes later, asking you your date of birth!
Anyway I was apparently due to be second on the list that day but due to a late arrival I was bumped up to first place and was wheeled into the operation theatre ante room just before 9am. Next then I was aware of was waking up in the recovery ward, both my feet bandaged.
(including the lovely marker pen instructions!)
A little while later, after a sleep to get the rest of the anesthetic out of my system, I was given a lovely cup of tea and slice of toast. I mean the bread wasn't the greatest, it is the NHS after all they're not going to spend loads of money on premium thick cut bread, but given I hadn't eaten in roughly 16 hours it was lovely, lovely toast!
So it's all over and done with. Now I'm a week and a half into the recovery process and it's going good. I go back to the hospital in 3 days to have my plastercast changed and stitches removed, and I'm looking forward to seeing my feet, almost excited even!