Holiday in Hollywood

This is not particularly something that I want to talk about, but to be fair to the purpose of this blog, which is to act a family life journal, I have decided to include all of the important (and obviously unimportant) happenings and events that affect my family.

I love aeroplane food.  I love the fact that your food comes to you on a tray with a lid.  I love that everything has its own little compartment.  A space for meat, vegetables, salad, soup, bread roll, dessert.  When I receive a tray of aeroplane food, I picture myself in the 1970’s, sitting with a stable table on my lap and peeling off the foil of my t.v. dinner.  Fantastic.  So.  You can imagine my excitement when I found out I was going to hospital for a few nights.  They provide aeroplane food on steroids, the trays are larger, and when I am finished, I can push the tray away and sails across the room on the trolley table!  I am so excited!

I will not give you any details as such; I will just say that I told myself that my body has felt broken for a while and 2012 was to be the year of fixing.  It was now time to act upon the physical gift of aftermath from two beautiful healthy sized children.

Time for a holiday. Two to four nights away.  It was not exactly Byron Bay, or Madrid, Spain, but it was Hollywood.  Really, it was Hollywood, (Hollywood Private Hospital, Nedlands WA).  Time for instant butler service by a push button, strap on leg massagers for the first 24 hours, and guess what, I do not even have to get out of bed to pee!  How cool is that?

I arrive at 7am and have not been allowed to eat or drink since the day prior.  Needless to say, I was a little anxious and I did not get much sleep prior to going on ‘holiday’, and what sleep I did have involved me dragging myself through the Sahara desert with no oasis in sight, whispering “water, water”.  I know, I am even over dramatic in my dreams.  I spend the first hour of my day scraping what saliva I do have stored from the inside of my cheeks, it seems enough to make it through.

After admissions, I wait in 2 separate lounge areas, I fill out a meal request for the following day, Woo Hoo, and then I am escorted to my first bed of the day.  Here I am asked to get changed; my first offering is a pair of disposable knickers.  Disposable undies, what a fabulous idea!  Surely these would be a profit maker amongst lazy college students who just turn them inside out when they near laundry day?  As well as paper pants, I get a pretty blue dress, with several bows up each shoulder and a few bows at the back, a little breezy back there, but pretty none the less.  My calves are then measured in width and length, (something I have never thought to measure before), and I am fitted with some stockings.  Now I look like a patient, I answer several hundred questions as though I am applying for life insurance and sign several forms.  Now I can relax on my curtained off bed for the next hour and ears drop on my fellow patients as they discuss their allergies ailments, and where you can buy the best apple strudel in Perth.

I am then informed that it is time for my next destination.  I hold on tight as my bed is backed out, pumped up in height then pushed down the corridor.  I felt like I was in the movie ‘Bed knobs and Broomsticks’ only I was travelling through the open credits to ‘Get Smart’.  Buttons were pushed to release each large sliding door; I watched them close behind us.  Immature as I am, I giggle to myself as I am pushed backwards down the hallway, I wanted to say “faster, faster”, deep down I knew that was not appropriate for this situation.  What is also not appropriate is the fact that my legs are too long for this bed, and my feet keep brushing up against my chauffers groin as he pushes me along.  Awkward.  Not quite sure what small talk you make with the male nurse at this particular stage of the ride.  “Tickly under there?”  It is times like this I wish I could whistle.  Yep, the skill of whistling would really come in handy right now!

Next to the holding room.  Here I meet my anaesthetise, then my surgeon, and another nurse who quizzes me on all the life insurance information I have already disclosed.  I am tagged with name, age and serial number on my wrist and my ankle.  I am gathered I am tagged at opposite ends of the body just in case I am chopped in half; it makes it easier to put the puzzle back together.  They also keep asked me what procedure I am having done.  I am getting a little concerned that I am running the show here, shouldn’t they know what the operation is by now.  I secretly wonder if I whispered boob job and tummy tuck if I would come out with an added surprise. To complete my beautiful outfit, a bright red mesh shower cap.  Now, I wait, again.

Large Slovenian nurse come now.

Man voice, man build, man face with make-up.

Lady hair, lady smile.

“You name?”

“You date birth?”

“You allergic to?”

“You having operation of what?”

“You come with me.  I put you to sleep.”

Hmmmmmmm.  Okay. 

Being pushed backwards through the doors, I have no more giggles about the opening scenes of ‘Get Smart’ , now I feel as though I am being wheeled towards a torture room in an old 007 Bond movie.  Must be a busy morning.  My Slovenian nurse is keen to get this party started, and we overtake another bed trolley in the corridor like we are fighting for the car space closest to the shop entrance.  My legs have not shrunk and my bed has not grown, I am now “Tickly under there” with my he/she chauffeur.  Double Awkward!  We are racing now.  I am tempted to make the eeeeeerrrrrrr sound of screeching tyres as she takes the last corner.  Shockingly, I think she is just as eager to give me my drugs as I am to receive them.

I enter the operating theatre, it is extremely bright.  What if I hear whispers, “Go towards the light”? Which one?  There are so many.  And televisions, there are a few of them hanging above my head also. Are we watching a movie?  I filled out my menu preference, but I did not see the movie list.  I hope it is something funny.  I think I am in the mood for a comedy.  Looks like my holiday officially starts now!

“You name?”  (Argh, here we go again!)

“You date of birth?”

“You allergic to?”

“Breath into mask now”

“One, two, goodnight she/male nurse ………… welcome to Hollywood!”