Page 214 - She's One Crazy Lady!

Next day...
I was woken up early and had to take a pre-med tablet and anti-sick- ness pills. ‘Jama Ted’ seemed to be the focus of attention, the nurses saying they all wanted one. (I’d repeatedly told everyone wanted to have my teeth put in before I woke up!)
Diary: “Well, it’s 7.35 and they’ll be coming for me soon. Feeling quite whoozy but lovely. This is it then – time to go and get a new boob and a flat belly. Love to everybody. Now for the sexy knickers and the passion killer (and frilly-topped) support stockings – and a long sleep!”
It was a week before I wrote in my diary again.
In the anaesthetic room I knew what to expect but had no recollection of what they did before I drifted off to sleep, the pre-med doing its job. However, I did remember coming round, looking up and seeing a mass of faces looking over me. I remember being in a lot of pain around my chest and felt I couldn’t breathe properly. They said I was tachycardic and I heard voices saying they had done an ECG which was fine so I was not to panic. In and out of consciousness I was still in a lot of pain and must have smiled when they said all was OK and that I’d had a rib removed. A rib? I knew I was in the Recovery Room and remember hearing a nurse telling me she wouldn’t leave me. The heatwave had obviously begun because I felt so hot and had to be cooled down with a wet cloth and was allowed mouth swabs to keep my mouth moist.
I was to learn later that the surgery had taken 101⁄2 hours and didn’t get back to my room until 4.30am – some twenty hours after being wheeled down. It also became apparent there was a problem, hence all the faces peering at me and the constant ‘buzz’ of mumbled conversations. I was told the operation had not been completely successful, that there was not enough blood going into part of the flap. Whoever it was talking to me said that Mr Varma was very, very upset for me – apparently tearful. So much so that he was prepared to take me to theatre again on the Sunday to try to redo the reconstruction using muscle (the Latissimuss Dorsi Muscle) and skin from my back – a ‘back flap – a second major operation.
To be honest I didn’t really appreciate what had happened or was about to happen. I wasn’t upset. The morphine was probably helping, but even without it, I know I wouldn’t have been worried. It was no-one’s fault. The way I saw it was that it was my body that had rejected the blood vessels from the tummy area so, if there was another way of achieving an improved result I was quite happy to go along with it. I hated the thought of Mr Varma being upset. It must have been bitterly disappointing and frustrating for him and his team after such a lengthy and complicated operation. They must have all felt shattered and here they were offering me a second chance. They said this was the first time it had gone wrong like this so I felt honoured that he was going to try again – I trusted him completely.
One of Mr Varma’s registrars explained more fully what had happened. He said that part of the flap from my tummy was not expected to survive,
“It also became apparent there was a problem, hence all the faces peering at me and the constant ‘buzz’ of mumbled conversations.
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