Brilliant NHS Staff

I had a cyst and was taking antibiotics but it decided to become something more unpleasant so I visited my GP. I belong to a brilliant medical practice run by the charismatic Dr Mc, but rarely see him. This particular morning I had an appointment with Dr. K., who had seen the original cyst and prescribed the antibiotics. Dr. K has two expressions, impassive and even more impassive. It was the second one that crossed his face as he examined what had now become an abscess in my right groin. He decided to write a letter to the Surgical Assessment Unit at QA hospital there and then to get me antibiotics given IV. As I had a final dress rehearsal that night and an opening night the following I was trying to calculate whether I could postpone the hospital visit until the Monday break in performances or indeed until after the performances finished. However Dr K said I must go straight to SAU and only to pick up my overnight bag on the way through.

At the SAU my details were taken by Staff Nurse W, who had been one of my pupils at Trosnant Primary School. She described me as being a "lovely teacher" and such an unsolicited testimonial made me swell with pride. While we waited long hours in the Treatment Room - not designed for long stays hence my Left Buttock complaint of previous posts - I was visited by another nurse whose son DB I had taught at Waite End School ( I believe her son had done some work on the construction of the new super hospital in which we sat).

More importantly we were visited by a very good looking doctor who was doing the assessment in the SAU. He looked like a taller version of Dominic Cooper (said teh best Beloved). It was he who answered my problem about dress rehearsals and first nights by saying "send in the understudy" and that I would be lucky to be back performing after the weekend if all went to plan. Fortunately for the Bench Theatre and "What the Butler Saw" we had the remarkable and very talented Mark Wakeman as director. It was he who stepped in as understudy with a script on stage and earned a brilliant performance accolade in the press reviews. Having seen the play all the way through he knew the moves and situations and was familiar with the lines - he needed the script though because even he was defeated by Orton's ornate language (see previous posts). That was one burden off my shoulders and all I had to concentrate on was my abscess.

After Dr. Dominic Cooper look alike came the surgery team dressed in scrubs led by a female registrar, female surgeon and male assistant. By now abscess was throbbing but if left alone didn't cause too much pain but he didn't like the attention and probing and prodding. The surgical team agreed with Dominic's assessment and i was added to the CPOD list for that day. This is the emergency list to fit in amongst the already scheduled theatre appointments and you can get shuffled up and down the list depending on priorities.

Eventually in the evening I was moved to a small one bed room in preparation for my procedure whenever a theatre became available. Best Beloved departed after a very long day thinking my procedure would take place at 2100. However I was moved down the list because another patient took priority. I was visited by an anaesthetist. This was the moment I dreaded as at my bypass they had had to do a tracheotomy in order to get air into my lungs during general anaesthetic. If they had to do that again I knew my voice would be ruined as the tracheotomy took longer to heal than did the bypass operation scars. The anaesthetist suggested another method whereby a tube was introduced up my nose and then down the back of my throat. This sounded horrible as well and I knew that if my throat was damaged or made sore it would take a long time to heal (If I am about to catch a cold or such like, it is the back of my throat which goes first).

Anyway I am dozing off having watched "Spooks" on the bedside TV when at midnight a porter and a nurse arrive for me. They trundle me down lengthy empty corridors to the theatre, where I am greeted my surgical nurses and the star of the day, the anaesthetist in charge of my operation. He was bonhomie personified and I am ashamed to say I didn't catch his name. Mainly this was because he had come up with an alternative approach for the operation. Instead of putting me under a general anaesthetic, he suggested the use of an epidural, an injection in the spine which would immobilise the body below the belly button. I agreed to the procedure and was injected in the back doing a Rodin pose under my own steam. Then followed the weirdest sensation - I could feel if my lower limbs were touched or moved but had no sensation of pain and was unable to move them myself. He introduced me to the "Oh yer Bugger" moment. This was achieved with a cold spray which had no real impact on the deadened areas but achieved the OYB moment if it sprayed on to the upper torso. The point was to monitor that the epidural worked in the area required and not higher up, which on reflection was a good thing. A NHS screen was rigged up of a blanket between two drip feed stands as I requested not to be able to see the surgeons at work. I am a physical coward and didn't want to see scalpels near my crown jewels.

The surgeon popped her head round the screen at one point to explain what they were doing and to apologise that they hadn't given me a bikini shave. The anaesthetist kept me entertained throughout with anecdotes, summary of the procedure and health advice. he did warn me that my bladder needed to work by 0800 next morning otherwise the epidural might be having too extended an effect and I would need help urinating.

I am delighted to say that my bladder worked as normal the next morning!

Finally I am indebted to the beautiful blonde District Nurse from Leeds with obvious Norwegian ancestry named Ingrid! Two Ingrids in one room was a total delight. The District Nurse ripped off the elastoplast on my dressing, came up with a less painful solution for covering the wound that will become a scar. I am now midway through a fortnight of seeing a nurse each day for changing my dressing. The usual comment on seeing the wound that will become a scar is "Oh, how impressive!"

I think that must be my summation of the brilliant NHS staff I have met during my latest medical procedure is "How Impressive!"