I couldn't go to my bed straight away. In fact I waited almost the rest of the day for it. Strange I thought, why phone me and tell me there was a bed if there wasn't? I went into another ward, sat in another bed, and waited. I remember the old guy in the bed opposite me, he was very weird but I liked him. Turned out he was bisexual, like me!
I then spent a week or so on the Wessex Neurological ward. It was exactly how I imagined a hospital ward would be. Other patients, all open with a nurse's station at the end of the corridor. I was, by far, the youngest patient on the ward. Which everyone happily kept telling me.
Nothing much happened. I went about my days reading, playing solitaire, watching YouTube videos on my phone. I would see the neurosurgeons everyday, they explained everything that was going to happen. I had to sign consent forms after I had decided that yes I was in fact going to have the surgery. I was told I didn't have to have it if I didn't want to but I would definitely die if I didn't. There was even a different surgery available, a shunt surgery, but it wouldn't solve the issue entirely and again I would eventually die.
I had another MRI scan, although I suppose it only confirmed what they already knew. In truth, nothing really happened.
The day of my surgery, I was so hungry, and thirsty. I understood my stomach had to be empty, but it seriously sucked. It took a long time too, I was taken down hours after I expected. I changed into a gown, got wheeled down, and into a room where I met my anaesthetists. I assume they put me under in that room because I do not remember a thing after that. Like falling asleep.
i feel a bit weird too. I’ve just ticked the❤️ Button, but does that mean I liv it when I read about someone who has basically been told ‘have this surgery or you’ll die’!!