Wednesday 19 July 2017

A Somewhat Stressful, Surreal, But Ultimately Satisfying Birthday (over two days)

I love birthdays. Anyone's birthday. The anniversaries of our births are a celebration of life. We are complicated creatures by nature - emotional, moody, self-centred and irrational - so birthdays are a perfect opportunity for personal indulgence. And be able to get away with a day of pure bliss, if we so choose.

We are all special. Hence the importance of birthdays, in my humble opinion.

Unfortunately, my birthday this year was hijacked by an unpleasant but necessary procedure being administered to Michael. Endoscopies and colonoscopies are not fun. The actual bodily assault is not the issue. Any embarrassment is avoided by sedation, allowing the lucky patient to drift off peacefully into cloud cuckoo land for the duration.

The preparation is truly ghastly. Three days of a restricted diet - white, white and white are allowed - followed by the inevitable atomic bomb constipation cure of tablets and then three litres of the dreaded swamp juice over a timeframe of fifteen hours.

Michael was not a happy camper. There is nothing dignified in having to dash for the loo at a moment's notice. In the end, Michael could only stomach two of the three litres of the colonic clean out. However, hilariously, mention was made of his "excellent lavage" in his discharge notes. I'll leave that phrase to your imagination...

My darling husband presented his birthday gift to me after a fairly sleepless night. We were already shattered. Off to hospital with an emergency toilet roll and a change of clothes. Thankfully, not needed. Once admitted, the expected strip and into the gorgeous hospital gown. Then twiddling our thumbs for an hour. Finally, off to the theatre at a quarter to one.

He'll be back around two o'clock, they said. We'll ring you, they said. They didn't.

So after consuming a fairly ordinary savoury muffin, I managed to buy myself a birthday treat of new walkers. And the supermarket shopping. Nothing else. And by two-thirty, I was too panicked to think of any other amusement than returning to Northam Hospital to see if Michael was alive.

Anxiety Girl was in full flight.

He was not in any bed in the day surgery unit. Where was he? I eventually tracked down Godfrey, one of the lovely nurses who informed me of Michael's location. He was in the loo. Long exhale of breath.

He'd had sandwiches and a drink. Then the staff were going to call me...

Michael was raring to go. I just wanted to clear one of the findings with Matt the gastroenterologist. And change the referring doctor from a previous chap who had disowned us. I cornered Doctor Matt between patients. He was, in turn, startled, confused, then conciliatory and kind. No, Michael was fine. No, I didn't need to worry about him. That was all I needed.

The rest of my actual birthday was a fizzer. After trying, unsuccessfully, to find a cafe kitchen open in Northam between three o'clock and five o'clock, we settled on a small take-away pizza. Not an ideal meal for the starving man with a delicate tummy. The beef korma we consumed later didn't help his gut either. The only upsides were Vanessa's extravagant gift of one of my favourite alcoholic beverages and a long phone call from Callum. For the second night in a row, Michael retired miserably to our bed. I joined him before eight thirty.

Twelve hours in the horizontal position did wonders. We were determined to extend my birthday and enjoy the positive. Thus, we headed for the Big Smoke. I was pampered. Colour, foils and trim by the fabulous Sharon at Salon Express Midland. Admired Tara's gorgeous little puppy, Marley. In ecstasy over Niamh's head massage. Heaven.

Michael's hair was also made respectable. And he purchased new walking shoes for his troublesome feet. I added new knickers and some shirts. The elusive shoe racks were the final tickets of the spending spree. Happily content without being frazzled, we set off for home. A quick stop for noodles in Mundaring and a glass of vino. Then we turned Goldie in the direction of Station House.

Last evening was spent in front of the telly with a couple more glasses of vino. Finally, I felt that I'd had the best birthday. It only took two days.


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Michael, incognito, prior to his haircut.


I wasn't any better!


A fabulous haircut and a few kilos off. Happy happy joy joy.


Michael's surprise at his sleek new look.


Who LIKES shopping for knickers?!


However, this is true.




The kind of shirts I love. 


And a perfect end to a lovely day.



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