Privilege

On 21/05/2020 13:35, Arthur wrote:

I like the Privilege film poster, good times. Hasten your recovery. art xx

On 21/05/2020 09:18, Arthur wrote:

I trust that all went well yesterday and I wish you a speedy recovery. art xx

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Notwithstanding the sedative tranquillising me, I'll try and explain things beyond your own understanding of what is taking place. In blunt terms, all went reasonably well. But that is not it.

I had been triaged by an upgraded team, which led to my undergoing an endoscopic ultrasound, and all that such a procedure entails. I was the only out-patient at the Royal in the endoscopy department.

The endoscopy went as well as one could wish for, but that has no relation to recovery in the general sense. We are all somewhat in the dark. Hence the requirement of a darkroom to see the light.

The purpose of the procedure is to get the best high quality photographs taken by a camera inside me via the mouth. Despite the discomfort of having a camera shoved down my throat, that is now over. 

Before it went ahead in the operating theatre, the surgeon said "An awful day is just about to get even worse." And, on that note, he began. However, he had pumped so much sedative in the form of opiods and benzedrine into my blood via the cannula that my day was just about to get a whole lot better. I was less than half-aware of what was happening. A lot less! I started drifting ... floated into another realm really ... and, by the time I got back, I was in the recovery ward with Sarah supping a cup of tea close-by in an ante-chamber. A very nice nurse had piled a mountain of bourbons on a plate for me to sit alongside my huge mug of builder's tea. By now, I had abstained from food and water for almost nine hours; otherwise one vomits throughout the procedure, which, as it turned out, went as smoothly as a Yellow Submarine gliding, perhaps flying, in and out of my subconsciousness.

I heard Sarah's voice, but I was still floating somewhere in inner-space. I barely remember anything at all. The surgeon said that short-term amnesia was not unusual with such a strong blast of whatever he had given me. Just as well. I was left with a soreness in my throat. The nurse warned that my motor reactions would be exceptionally slow: "So don't go near anything hot like a cooker." "Ha! Ha! No worries on that score. I never do," I offered. Sarah could be heard chuckling in the background.

I am still waking up. Might take until tomorrow. It only remains for the high definition pictures to be examined by a team of specialists who will triage, again, and then book me for another consultation.