Time to crank up the old blog again. No I've not stepped back into the ring. It's time to say one final farewell to the sport from a hospital operating theatre where a long awaited operation called a septoplasty was lined up for me after a wait of many months. This is an operation to realign a deviated septum (the cartilage in the nose) which was causing me no end of problems breathing, particularly at night.
I was admitted to ward 7 of the Royal Glamorgan Hospital. There were five other beds, all full. Opposite me was an old chap in stripy pyjamas in for a hernia who looked like he was still in costume from the set of Dad's army. Next to him was a young lad in for a gruesome looking knee replacement. Then there was a very old fellow who kept getting out of bed and caused me to rush to get a nurse before his catheter was ripped from his body as he ambled away. He disappeared when I woke up from a short nap. Another young guy in for a scan on some sort of blood clot and then next to me was trombone man. He was also in for a hernia and had an annoying habit of making random trombone noises incessantly - even when he was asleep. I had my ipod, but in the rush to leave home via a waiting taxi I forgot my headphones so the only respite was to sleep.
At about 1pm the surgeon paid me a visit. He had an air of casualness and kept drawing anaglies between pilots and his job "I can't fly a plane, but they couldn't do my job either." Not quite sure what his point was, but I made a point of engaging him in conversation for longer than he was planning on the notion that if we bonded in some way he would do a better job and not mess my nose up like Michael Jackson. Up until his visit to my bed, I admit I was pretty nervous and had done the obligatory google searches on things that can go wrong in operating theatres and looked for pictures of nasal surgery - there's not a lot of room up there!
At 2pm I changed in to a green checked gown several sizes too small for me and 30 minutes later was escorted by the anesthetist to follow her. Because the gown only covered about 66% of my circumference she put another one on backwards and because again in my rush to leave home I did not pack my slippers, I looked quite a sight walking down the corridors in my heavy leather boots and knee high gown billowing behind me like some caped crusader.
In a small lobby I had to lie on a bed while three nurses had a discussion about whether my underpants contained nylon. After some debate I had to put on a pair of see-through paper pants that ripped in half as I pulled them up, was connected to several machines and halfway through the usual banal pre-anasthetic conversation about the difference between labradors and golden retrievers all I can remember is feeling like I was taking off into space and then waking back in my ward with an oxygen mask on.
I felt nothing apart from sleepy and a wet sensation from a blood-soaked bandage over my face. My nose was numb and I thought about the last time I had an operation to remove my four impacted wisdom teeth and I was violently sick. That became a reality in an instant as, in front of my ward companions who were being served their dinner, I went green and was violently sick over myself, the bed and my pride. I was surprised by how much blood I had swallowed during the operation and the scene reminded me of the opening bit of a book about the ebola virus I read once. The nurses were great though and within a few minutes had transformed my bed from a war zone into a fresh one where I fell into a deep hazy sleep.
I was awoken by a nurse at 5am prodding me with some forceps telling me it was time to remove the nose packs. Still not fully awake I held a tray under my chin while she performed an indelicate procedure of tugging what seemed like a 10ft swollen tampon from each nostril. I can politely describe the sensation as strange, but struggle to find an adjective to describe the feeling of having your eyeballs forcibly extracted through your nostrils.
When it was done I lay back on my bed and and for the first time could feel clean air flow through my nose. The operation was a complete success and I can breathe again. The consultant said it was complicated because the cartilage in my nose was smashed into 12 pieces that were floating around in a gelatinous mass. It took 45 minutes to piece it back together through a tiny incision in one nostril. Full credit to him and his team for an excellent job. There are some truly horrendous videos on the web of the procedure (and pack removal) on youtube if anyone's brave enough to venture over there for a look...
I really miss boxing, but value breathing more. My boxing gloves and boots are hanging in my garage luring me to get them down again one day. We'll see what happens.
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