The path to recovery

I don’t know about you but as a child I spent some time in hospitals for all sorts of silly things but as an adult I have been lucky to avoid them and have even for the most part managed to avoid visiting people in hospitals. To me they are a scary and very clinical place.

So this was not going to be a pleasant experience. I checked in, makes it sound more like a hotel then a hospital, got my room and bed number and off I went. Neatly folded on my bed was one of those wonderful open back gowns and some of the most ridiculous looking things ever. In an attempt to lighten the mood and ease the tension, my amazing hubby and I made a few silly (and probably not very tasteful) jokes about the disposable panties that I would now need to wear. While waiting we got the chance to talk and get some things off our chest and come to terms with what was about to happen. Then it was time and off I went.  Arriving in theatre was a terrifying experience, it was not part of our 2 year plan and why was this happening to me? With that I drifted off to sleep.

“Wake up, wake up!” being pulled from a deep sleep, confused and drowsy I panicked, the bright lights and people all around.  Where was I? What had just happened? I started screaming and crying. I needed to be back with my husband and in my utopia, away from these people who didn’t care about what I had just been through.  I made sure that I recovered quickly. I did what the nurses wanted – eat and go to the toilet.  I was going home I did not want to spend any more time in this clinical building of shattered dreams.