This Week's Surgery....

... took place at The Chelsea & Westminster Hospital.

It was the long awaited (20 years!) and previously delayed (due to the complications with the hernia op) carpal tunnel operation on my left hand.

I saw the specialist about four months ago and she told me about this wonderful new procedure that was so slick and simple, you were barely aware you'd been operated on. All you had was a tiny little scar - maybe 2mm - and one or two stitches. Best of all the recovery time was minimal.

That last bit was really important to me because when I had my right hand done two years ago I remember the hassles I had with just coping with life minus one hand, not to mention the pain as it healed. I'm pain free in my right hand now of course, and I sure don't regret having the op, but at the time I told myself I'd be reluctant to go through it again.

Assured by the surgeon that I'd have none of that grief this time I agreed to the new, improved operation. So it was scheduled for last Friday afternoon. I was told to be there by 2.40 tho there was no guaranteed time for the surgery. I was down as a stand-by act for Highlight for the weekend and with the footie the odds were I'd not be leaving the dressing room at Camden, so had no worries about making it there on time.

At 12.30 I got a call from the hospital asking if I could come in asap, someone hadn't turned up and they were moving everyone up the list. Suited me fine, I had to nip to the bank but if we were all being done early, I could go afterwards. I was just about to have lunch but again figured I could manage a couple of hours without food. I hopped on the bus and was there by 1.10. I was given a locker and a pair of those sexy gowns and asked to change.

I made my way out to the waiting area for day surgery patients and the telly was showing the opening of the World Cup in South Africa, so along with numerous other patients and most of the nurses I sat and watched the spectacle.

About 2.30 a nurse came along to talk me through the op and get me to sign the consent form. That's when the fun started, somewhere in the four months, some management twonk at the hospital had done their sums and realised that in the short-term the new way of operating was more expensive. Forget the fact that patients lost no work, there were fewer complications and infections etc., it was costing extra for the ultra-sound technician, so they were scrapped.

I was pissed off , but hey thanks to our glorious new leadership I suspect this is the first of many such cutbacks in the NHS. What really pissed me off tho, is that no-body thought to inform any of the patients! I'd done no preparation for this. Last time I stocked up on groceries, made sure there was no washing to be done, put clean sheets on the bed etc., etc., cos I knew I'd be incapacitated.

This time, I was led to believe I'd practically be doing handstands straight afterwards, so I'd done nothing. Also, like I said I was due at a gig that evening! Last time I didn't work for a couple of weeks.

Their attitude was one of "couldn't give a shit-ness" and I was told they'd get the surgeon to have a word with me. I was also told I was like the fourth person to complain that day alone!

By 3.30 the surgeon showed up, she'd been in a meeting! Who the hell was doing all the operations then? I never found out cos I insisted it was the least she could do, I didn't want someone from the kitchens doing it with a friggin' can opener!

At around 4pm they started. Jesus it hurt! I had local anasthetic but I could still feel her yanking the carpal tunnel itself as she cut it open and freed the nerves. She told me she was trying to minimise the length of the wound and this made it all the more distressing as she poked and prodded. I know that I couldn't really feel the pain cos the nerves were frozen but psychologically I was more than are that my left hand was being sliced open!

After what seemed like an eternity stitching it all back up, I was left to go and get dressed again. The stress of that brought on one of my little faints, and yet again I was lucky not to bang my head when I went down!

When I emerged from the changing room, I was handed an assortment of appointments - all made without checking my availability - and a box of co-codamol to kill the pain. I looked at the times and dates of the follow-ups, and neither were convenient for me. Still feeling shaky from my blackout I asked if they could be re-arranged and was rather abruptly told that they couldn't.

It was here, dear reader, I lost it. Refraining from using the words that would've really expressed my feelings, I stated my situation and informed her that until the appointments were made at times that I could actually attend I wasn't leaving.

Normally, I'm as quiet as a church mouse in these situations. I have big old scenarios in my head, but the reality is I am usually scared to piss people in authority off, so I take any old bollocks from them. Not this day! That nurse buggered off and her superior came along and tried to make me rearrange my lift to suit them, and again I stood my ground (well sat it - to be honest I was happy not to move in case if blacked out again!). Then her superior turned up from some back-room somewhere and finally she listened.

Well wouldn't you know it? Turns out these things can be re-arranged! Isn't it amazing? What couldn't be re-arranged of course was my ability to work, and so yet again I lose money cos other people don't do their jobs right!

Anyway, here's what I looked like as I left the hospital.


Yesterday I went back to have the wound checked and thankfully its healing well with no sign of infection. I also got the whole huge bandage removed. Now that was a result!