I looked up after Breakfast and saw a most handsome man in my midst. No, I rubbed my eyes – he was real. He was the epitome of Tall, Dark & Handsome and a stranger. The one I didn’t want to meet. He was also a doctor – working under my own surgeon. Though he sure was something to look at. I could have gazed into his dark brown eyes for….
Hi, I’m Doctor P…he said and I work under Doctor H…(I’m not giving too much of the game away by giving you their names). I’ve come to stitch your drain back in you. Something happened then. The bubble burst and I knew he wasn’t there to visit me. I looked down into his hands and he had various medical tools, including the mandatory yellow kidney shape dish that held some of the needles he was going to use to stitch me back up. Instantly my system went into high alert. No, this stitching just was not going to happen. No Way. NO WAY!!!
NO I said curtly, though politely. No, you cannot do this to me. I don’t want to. We stayed there for a few minutes more wasting time arguing. In hindsight I don’t know why I bothered to argue. It was clear that he was going to get his way, though I thought I had the team on my side. The Team are my spirit protectors. My Guardian Angels whom I thought were at my beck and call, would come racing in and taunt him away from me. No one was going to put this miss in mortal peril of having another needle! Wasn’t it enough that I had to endure a painful blood test every morning – and a twice daily shot of heparin!
Well, the argument went his way when he insisted that he wasn’t going to take me down to the operating theatre to do something he could do here in just 10 minutes! He set about, and had his nurse set about cleansing me, prepping me and lying me on the bed so that I was nice and comfy. “Well, can I at least hold someone’s hand please” I pleaded with him “I have a fear of needles and I’m terrified” So he requested his nurse come on the right side of me, while he moved closer to my chest where the drain was sticking out and had me hold her hand while he did the deed of pulling the drain out, cleansing it, pushing it back in and sewing me back up. I think I squirmed the whole time he was working on me and he was so upset by my ordeal that he had a social worker come and visit me the next working day.
I must say though that on the whole, he was very pleasant, very polite and treated me with more respect than I did myself. In all reality, he worked expediently and with a minimum of fuss. As well as being handsome, he had the most gentle of hands. He did the job in a little over 15 minutes, that was from my nervousness though. His nurse was equally as good while she kept me lying down and holding her hand so I could squeeze when I felt any pain. I was right as rain afterwards and wondered what all the fuss was all about. Still, the trauma was real for me and though it has subsided now, after many months later, it has yet to vanish into the ether.
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