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I’m back from hospital, and now have two weeks’ convalescence where I must not mix with many people for infection control reasons. I have been ordering Bob Dylan CDs from the library to keep me occupied, along with my books. 

Things began well yesterday morning. I was one of the earlier patients taken to theatre. The modern anaesthetics are amazing. One moment I was talking to the anaesthetist and his assistant, the next I was waking up bright as a button in the recovery suite. I have suffered no pain or nausea after the surgery, either. 

Not everything was straightforward, though. The bleeding from my nose took longer to halt than expected. The nurses decided this was connected with the fact that my blood pressure was misbehaving. So instead of coming home last night, I was kept in, just in case a nasty nose bleed started up. 

As it happens, all that occurred was that I didn’t get a single second of sleep. The operation leaves patients with highly bunged up noses, largely with congealed blood. You are not allowed to try to remove it, because you could expose the work of the surgeons underneath. It would be like a child picking a scab on a knee before the new skin had formed. This left me finding it hard to breathe sufficiently deeply for sleep. Breathing through my mouth didn’t work either, because I had a sore throat from the tube that had been placed down it during the surgery. 

However, at least the blood pressure was a little more co-operative this morning. Combined with the fact that the only bleeding I had in the night was the result of a sneezing fit, my discharge today became routine. 

So I phoned Debbie and arranged that she would pick me up outside the main building at the drop-off point. We agreed on 9:15 am. Come 9:20, she still wasn’t there. My mobile vibrated in my pocket. “Where are you,” she asked, “I’ve driven past the entrance and you’re not there.”

“I’m outside the pick up and drop off point.”

“But I’ve been past A and E and didn’t see you.”

A and E? St John’s Hospital doesn’t have one. She had gone to Broomfield Hospital, eight miles away.

But before I leave this topic, I must include praise for all the staff on the ward. Their advice and care was first class. The NHS may be far from perfect, but give me that system ahead of a national private insurance scheme any day. 

The rest of the day has included some joys at the children’s achievements. Mark won a special effort sticker in assembly today for always getting on with his work straight away, and at swimming after school he swam a width without armbands for the first time. We have promised a family meal out when he managed that, and with Friday being a non-pupil day at the school, that will probably be our day. Rebekah, too, has done well, going up another stage on the reading scheme today.

It will be an early night tonight. Goodnight, all.


  1. Glad you are home. I remember by brother having something done to his nose and being sent home straight away, it was a very scary night.


    1. Thanks, Phil, should be an upward journey now. The doctor said at pre-op it will be 4-6 weeks before they know whether the surgery has been successful, but today’s post-op crib sheet I was given said 3 months and no follow-up. Still, the next two weeks give me a chance to get into some fine theological books that have stacked up, once I’ve caught up on my sleep!


  2. Glad to hear that you are home and that all is well, provided you are a good convalescent patient! I had the same experience of having to be kept in overnight because of excessive bleeding, but i thought I wouldn’t alarm you before you went in. It was rather funny, because they put me in disused ward which had nursery rhymes tiled into all the walls and they had to transfer a nurse from another ward to keep an eye on me! She was furious because there was nothing for her to do and the ward she had left was frantically busy!


    1. Hi Olive,

      I’m just looking forward to taking things at a steady pace rather than a frantic one now I’m home. It’s just a shame I can’t help Debbie as much with the children, but they are going away for half-term on Saturday, leaving me with the cats.

      The night staff were very good while I was in, as were all the staff I encountered on any shift.


  3. I hope you get well soon. I sympathise with you for the sleepless night. I have had several nearly so over the last week, not because of surgery but because of a nasty cold. It probably wouldn’t have been any better at home. I hope you slept better last night and continue to do so. After a couple of good nights’ sleep I feel much better today, and I hope and pray you do the same.


    1. Thank you, Peter. I suspect I have brought a cold home with me – the very thing I was supposed to avoid by staying clear of large groups for the next fortnight! Glad to know you are feeling better.


    1. Thank you Sally, you are so kind. I could just do with sorting out my sleep now. The last two nights I’ve got off to sleep but then when I’ve woken in the night for a call of nature (too much information? Sorry!) I’ve been unable to get back to sleep, because I am too blocked up to breathe properly. If I could only catch up a bit, I think I’d pick up quicker. zzzzzzzzzzzzz


  4. Hi Dave. If you’ve been told to avoid large groups of people you could come and visit us at CC!!!!!?? lol. Hope you’re soon feeling a lot better. Andrew and Torie have frequent nose-bleeds. His Mum told me that Andrew would sleep through them but sit up and get his feet covered in blood. It must have looked like an abbatoir! God Bless,love Jane. xx


    1. Ha! Actually, no, that’s sad, if not tragic, and I’m using those words without irony or sarcasm. I’m just impatient to get through these initial two weeks!


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