"Rectum? Damnear killed him."
It was today.
At 1st interview they gave the impression I'd be heavily sedated, need a chaperone and be unfit to drive home: so we asked for hospital transport.
Came the day and it transpired I had the choice of sedation or gas/air if I needed it.
"Set to and I'll let you know if I need it."
Transpired that I didn't, but I did find out why I don't "play for the other team".
I lay there chatting away to surgeon, nurses and anybody who'd listen: not to mention asking questions.
"What's that thing?"
"Let me know when we reach the appendix?"
etc.
Apparently one is inflated, in order to open the pipes and allow the camera a decent view. This, inevitably, leads to a certain number of "Horn concertos" and "Trumpet in-voluntaries" which, one of us will be delighted to know I didn't count and, since the old tubes were full of nothing but CO2, relatively innocuous.
On the left: a Polyp being lassoed and cauterised.
On the right: "There's your rectum Mr. Kane, if you want a look." Apparently, snake-like, it can turn around and look over its own shoulder as it were.
Couldn't, of course, see out: there was a bloody great pipe blocking my view.
I forgot to mention, yesterday, how safe Penrith is/was. I was, obviously, a wee bit distracted on Wednesday.
We parked the car, and sortied to #15 for a brew, since we hadn't been for yonks. On return to the car I noticed the lights were full on.
"That's odd, even when I forget, it's only side-lights".
Next ... I noticed the wipers were still going.
Put my hand on the bonnet (Hood to you lot) and there was a faint tremor. It wasn't until we were, actually, inside that we could hear the motor was still running and keys were, obviously, still in the ignition.
BUGGER!!!
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Returned, on a different errand, 25th May '22. I had NO idea how long I was in there - BUT - I've just noticed one time says:-
17:28 (Ignoring seconds) while the other says:-
17:55 (Ditto) "in XS" of 27 minutes.
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