The other side

Well, I'm here - just.  Of which, more later.

Previously on the op....

I had to be in at the crack of dawn on Saturday.  I was first up - which I had mixed feelings about.  I'd have preferred they had someone else to warm up on, but it was certainly better than being last.  I think, had I not forked out a lot of money for this, I would have fled.  I kept thinking "Has it really come to this?", but as the answer was clearly a resounding "yes", I just about held my nerve.  I think as well, had I not come to the end of the road with everything else, I would have regretted it.  I kind of doubt that anyone would plump for this as an option (no pun intended) without having tried a lot of other things, but one thing I have learned in life is that people are odd.  So, maybe.

The staff were very nice, especially the anaesthetists.  I had a few issues with my nurse who seemed to think I should be entirely comfortable with being naked, but I won all gown tussles.  As soon as I came round, I was determined to head for home as quickly as possible.  I definitely have a strong bolt instinct.

I expected to feel sore, I'd read that the gas they fill you full of can cause considerable pain.  I was sore, but it was manageable.  The gas didn't quite present in me as it generally seemed to - I had chest pain rather than bad shoulder pain - but again, this, I felt, could have been worse.  All in all, I thought, I'd come out of this okay.  Wrong.

For the last two days, I've had really bad nausea.  The sort that means you keep bowls in every room and still clutch one to you.  The sort that means you wait for hours in the loo, waiting to throw up.  The sort that means you break out in a sweat, nausea sweeps through you like waves and there is nothing you can do and no distraction from feeling so awful.  Generally, I particularly hate being sick.  And I hate the feeling of being about to be sick even more - there is a sort of relief in finally getting it up.  But not here.  Because there isn't anything to throw up.  That would make it even more painful.  And worse, it could cause damage to the siting of my band.  I feel absolutely miserable.  I just have to wait it out, I know that.  But equally, I know this is not a normal reaction, so I don't know what to expect.  The nurse - via email - has mooted me coming in and having any liquid in the band removed.  I am not well enough to leave the house and I can't bear the thought of being pulled about any more.  So, I wait and I hope that it passes.  And I feel sick, really sick.

P reminds me that in a month I'll look back on this as a blip and something I got through.  I'm hanging on to that thought.