The Operation

The surgeon came and drew pictures on my front and decided where to cut. This didn't bother me. He said he'd probably have to take my nipples right off and move them, and that this was more risky, but he'd explained all the risks and shown me the photos of the possible horrendous outcomes so I knew what could happen. (But of course, 'it won't happen to me', right?)

At last it was my turn. The cheerful nurse wheeled my bed into the room just before the operating area. There it was the job of 'someone' to find a vein in my arm. 

I know where my vein is. I have just ONE findable vein, in the crook of the right arm. I can even feel its ropiness without trying too hard. BUT THAT IS THE ONE AND ONLY AVAILABLE VEIN.

I became a blood donor in 1973. I donated only once, and they politely requested I not come back, due to my unfindable veins, and the fact it wasted too much of the Red Cross' time. Fair enough. But these days, I do have a vein that can be found. I'm very proud of it. When nurses collecting blood take a quick squiz and say "Tch tch, I can't see any veins on you at all," I show them The One.

And so a couple of surgical nurses came along to insert the cannula. I said, "I was supposed to have something to calm me down. When am I getting it? I am bloody terrified here." (Well, maybe I said something better than 'bloody', but that's OK, 'cos the hospital is surrounded by some very bogan regions, as well as some nice ones, and almost everyone has a colourful vocab.)

They said they'd make sure I got it once they got the cannula inserted. I said that would be two effing late, I would likely jump off the effing trolley and make a bolt for it by then. 

"Tch tch, you don't have any veins," said one of the nurses. 

I showed her The Vein.

"That one's no good," she said. "Doctor likes to operate mainly from that side, and all our gear is also on the left side." 

They went off and brought two clever-looking Chinese gentlemen who appeared to be no more than 19 years old.

They poked around. They prodded. They tried my hand, my foot, my leg, the whole of my arm. They must have poked me with horrible huge needles 15 times, saying, "Have we got one? Is that a vein? No, try again over here."

'I ONLY HAVE ONE VEIN," I pointed out. 'AND IT'S HERE IN THE CROOK OF MY RIGHT EFFING ARM."

"Oh no, we can't use your RIGHT arm," one of the clever Chinese said. "We have to use the left one. Go and get the ultrasound machine Doris!"

"Are you nurses?" I asked.

"No, we are doctors."

"Fully qualified?" 

"In fact, we are both anaesthetists."

"Veterinary anaesthetists?" I ventured.

"No, fully qualified HUMAN anaesthetists."

"Have you done this before?"

"We have done this hundreds of times."

"You could have fooled me."

At that point, I knew I had thoroughly insulted the anaesthetists and they would most likely try to kill me during the course of the operation and make it look like an accident. 

The government would then do a huge cover-up job as usual.