I had my hernia repaired yesterday morning. I don't feel too bad. There's not much of the air-bus crash in me that Tor warned me about. Either I'm made of steel or the painkillers are grand, I suspect the latter. The chemicals used for anaesthetics these days have evolved, minimising the hangover. The opiates are as good as they get, I was given sedatives, morphine and synthetic heroin, by IV and anally. It sounds a bit much, I don't mind since it's a controlled environment, they can administer whatever they want, it's controlled, free and legal.

I had to wait for four hours before the op. Why they needed me there at 7:45 am I'll never know. The first thing they did was make me change into the skimpiest little hospital robe ever. The robe had wee poppers on the shoulders that didn't work, so I felt a bit exposed, never mind the non-existent back of the robe that displayed my sweet bottom to the rest of the world. They should offer hotpants.

From the time they started dosing me, the sense of being under-dressed and over-exposed lessened, the day slipped by. I woke in recovery feeling great, really great - I had 4 cups of tea, a sandwich, biscuits and 3 glasses of water. I did this because what I actually wanted was to get out of there - a pre-requisite for day care patients to leave is eat, drink and urinate. I managed all three pretty quickly.

Tor and Dolly came to pick me up, I was spoiled for choice - i've got the cat in the hat and a professional recovery nurse to look after me, it's the caring clown all-in-wonder.

Dolly had a massive Mickey Mouse which made laugh. I had to ask her very nicely to stop making me laugh, because it hurt, I don't need my sides split any more.
She carried the balloon for me, even though it was full of helium, it looked better on Dollar than on me.There were all the miserable NHS patients, ashen and morose, with the cat in the hat bounding around with a Mickey Mouse balloon for her 31 year old brother.

My painkillers demand that I lie down and sleep, we can't all be so lucky. I'll try again later.

I'm up... the sleep is so good, so lucid, I can't remember the last time I had sleep of this kind, a vibrant coma - the dreams so vivid, the memories stay with me and I'm not sure if I really jumped from a plane, watched as the chords from my chute snapped one by one, providing me with close-ups of the shredding nylon strings, plunging... fade out, fade in some other satisfying scenario.

When Dolly first came over, she found what I called Evil Bunny - a faded pink felt plastic bunny with orange bloodshot eyes. It looks like it has escaped from a lab, shorn and needled, it's eyes burned from the chemicals, the night of the living test bunnies. Dolly thinks it's cute, chubby and tired, just woken from a sweet woodland creature sleep. I was so taken with Evil Bunny that she bought me one, I have them both, in my room, and they torment me.



Phil came in one night and caught a glimpse of Evil Bunny, he nearly had an anxiety attack, I'm glad I'm not the only one who finds the Evil Bunny horrendous.