Woke up still in intensive care but felt surprisingly OK.
Doing a quick check list of everything I discover that apart from a mild sore throat (no doubt from the tubes that had been previously stuck down my throat) a slightly sore head (obviously) and that bloody catheter I really didn't feel too bad, and I was HUNGRY!
The nursing staff allowed me to sit next to the bed for breakfast. If I had known how much hassle it was going to be to manoeuvre all of the cables and tubes I might not have chosen to do so. But once installed, I tucked into a good continental breakfast.
The morning rounds (with obligatory hordes of students) appeared during my breakfast and it was obviously time for the chief's little joke. "Ah, can anybody tell me what indication of total recovery from surgery we can see in Mr. Gardiner?" and after a few seconds silence "... he is eating breakfast. Lets move along then"
After breakfast I was told I could return to the ward (maybe it wasn't a joke) and the process of disconnection started. On my insistence the catheter was first to go, and once all the pipes, cables and leftover connectors from yesterday's operation had been removed a porter was called to wheel me back to the ward. Only the solitary saline drip remained.
I have a theory about saline drips that they serve no medical purpose whatsoever, except to help you tell apart fellow patients and medical staff.
On the ward the routine of Take Meds, Blood Pressure. Eat, Snooze, Read a bit, ... fell back into its rather comforting rhythm only interspersed with the joyous moments of visitations of friends and family from outside.
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