non fiction

All posts in the non fiction category

A Conversation With Myself When a Wasp Tangoed on my Face.

Published November 6, 2016 by naomirettig

(Scene: sat on a bus, near the back, approximately 10 other passengers on board. Couple move from seat on my right to seats in front of me.)

Why have they moved?

I don’t know, maybe the sun was in their faces on that side.

Oh, yes, probably.

Oh no, there’s a wasp, they’ve moved from the wasp. It’s followed them though. They’ve brought the wasp over to our side!

Well if she stops waving her hands about it will go away.

They’re moving back now.

Good, the wasp is moving too.

Yay, it’s going down the front of the bus.

Can everyone stop waving their arms around, they’re making the wasp angry.

If it stings you, I bet you go into anaphylactic shock.

Don’t be a drama queen.

You’re allergic to penicillin, pet saliva and fur, feathers, and broad beans. And you have a swollen throat already because you’re ill. A sting from that wasp could make your throat swell, even a little more, and you could die.

You’re such an idiot.

It’s coming back up the bus!

Don’t panic. If I just keep still it won’t bother us. I’ll make myself invisible to the wasp.

You’re wearing the most floral blouse you have, and you’re wearing fleur de fig perfume, you couldn’t make yourself more attractive to the wasp unless you dressed as a female wasp.

Just keep still.

Christ it’s on the windowsill in front now. If it comes near us, you’ll have to kill it. No one else on the bus is going to. It’s the wasp or you. You decide.

What can I kill it with?

Your kindle is in your bag.

Don’t be stupid, there’s a note book in there too I can use.

Well slide your hand in and get it out ready. The wasp is getting closer. That’s it, nice and slowly.

I’m ready for it now. Where did it go?

I don’t know, we share the same eyes, I was looking in the bag with you. Everyone else is looking around for it too.

Maybe it went out the wind-ohhhh…IT’S ON MY FUCKING FACE!

Don’t swear!

It’s on my fucking face!

Follow your own advice, keep perfectly still, don’t make any sudden movements to scare it.

I’m not even breathing. It’s on my face. It’s doing a fudging tango on my cheek. I can feel its tippy-tappy feet. Bastard.

Keep calm. Don’t cry, your salty tears will only aggravate it.

I don’t think I can keep my silent screaming silent for much longer.

I can’t believe the man over there just told you to keep still because it’s on your face.

I know! Does he think I don’t know this! Fudge Womble!

Ooh.

Hallelujah!

You’ve got quicker reflexes than I thought.

That didn’t seem quick, that seemed to take forever to buzz from my cheek to the headrest in front.

Are you sure he’s dead?

When I whacked him, his head propelled two seats forward, I’m pretty sure he’s dead. Even if he was a zombie wasp, he’d be dead.

Did that lady really tut at you because you killed the wasp?

I think so yes.  Numpty nugget.

 

 

 

 

 

Touch

Published July 17, 2016 by naomirettig

A stranger on a train made me cry. They didn’t say anything to me, they didn’t look at me, they were probably completely unaware of my existence, yet they had a profound effect on me.

On a busy train to London the carriages filled up. I tend to avoid having someone sit next to me by letting my face drop into ‘resting mode’. My resting mode face is a serial killer/prison warder combo. Plus, it helps that I am large, not many people want to squeeze into a seat next to the fattest person in the carriage. Especially on a warm day. Anyway, this particular day all the seats had filled up so I stared into space out of the window as we pulled into Reading station, resigned to the fact that I would have to share my personal space for the final half hour of my journey. I hate having someone in the seat next to me as I usually get people with foul aromas that smell of fish, urine, garlic, rancid armpits, or a combination of those. Or people who eat. But not pleasant things like mints or lemon sherbets, I get people sitting next to me who eat egg sandwiches, and, I kid you not, some woman once ate pilchards next to me, heads and everything. I had to close my eyes and coat my nostrils in peach lip balm to avoid vomit rising.

On this occasion though the only odor that wafted my way, as a man sat down next to me, was a delicious aftershave.  Lap tray down, laptop out, head down, answering his emails. I don’t think he even gave me a first glance let alone a second. I was pleased I hadn’t been joined by a reeker, an eater, or indeed a reeky eater. I carried on watching the countryside whizz by. Then something strange happened.

I was suddenly aware of the warmth from the strangers’ arm. Our arms were touching, aligned. Nothing remarkable, nothing exceptional, just two people squished together on a busy train. To someone else that may have been the end of the experience. But I felt an emotional surge. Feeling the warmth from another human being was quite overwhelming.

I have been single for a long time and those closest to me (my mum and my daughter) are non-touchy feely people, no I love you’s, or hugs or affection. Which is fine for them, that is who they are. I however am a touchy feely person. But I have lived without physical human contact for such a long time that I’d actually forgotten how it felt. And I don’t mean in a sexual way, just in the sensory form of touch. Sat next to the man on the train, absorbing his body heat I wanted to cry. I wanted to cry because it felt good and I remembered the feeling of being physically close with a loved one. The random thought that went through my head was ‘if I was sat on a sofa with a partner this is what it would feel like’. (It’s irrelevant that I don’t have a sofa to go with a non-existent partner). I also wanted to cry because I thought of everyone else having someone they love to hold and touch, yet all I had was this random stranger on a train. I felt sorry for myself and I hated that.

The experience has passed. I’m now back to feeling fine with my unwritten no contact clause. It now doesn’t bother me again, just that one moment on the train. Obviously it made a difference that the man on the train was good looking and wore a wonderful aftershave, if it had been the lady in tweed from a few weeks earlier who smelled of onions and eels I don’t think I would have had the same experience.

So the moral of my tale is enjoy your human contact, be it on the sofa next to a loved one or sat next to a stranger on a train. But don’t go touching random people or holding hands with strangers, that might get you into trouble. Just be thankful.

Careers I Could’ve Had (if it wasn’t for a few things)

Published February 18, 2016 by naomirettig

Careers I Could Have Had (if it wasn’t for a few little things)

Astronaut – This was my first career choice, aged five. The thought of exploring the universe was extremely amazing to me, but in reality I got motion sickness in my mum’s Citroen 2CV Dolly car, so the thought of having my internal organs behaving like a lava lamp in zero gravity was a bit of a dampener. And I didn’t want floating poo anywhere near me. Not mine and certainly not anyone else’s. Add the fact that there wasn’t a huge recruitment for NASA training in 1977 Wales, my Astronaut dream remained just that.
Florist – I love flowers. One of my favourite subject matters to photograph. I just think they are all so beautiful and flowers always make me smile, so what could be more perfect to work with. Well, it would be perfect if I didn’t have hay fever. And loath early mornings. Getting up early for the flower markets when you’re a night owl would not be pretty.
Teacher – I toyed once with the idea of being a teacher. Sharing knowledge to others, shaping young lives, having lots of holidays, etc. But then I realized that I don’t like children and it would be shear hell on earth. So I stopped toying with that idea.
Funeral director – I was, and still am, obsessed by death. What could be more perfect than becoming an undertaker? I like to work alone, like unsociable hours and could do hair and make-up on a corpse better than on a real live human. I had my careers talk in school on being a funeral director when I was fifteen. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get work experience with any funeral directors. Or quite possibly fortunately. I’m incredibly squeamish. If I get a paper cut I need a lie down, and I have to look away when watching ‘Casualty’. Which is a bit of a contradiction as I love watching horror films and seeing people being mutilated. But my love of horror films would probably have made me more jittery than a live chicken at a voodoo party, not good when working alone with dead bodies. I would have given myself a heart attack by week two. I’ll stick to the horror films.
Marine biologist – I’ve always been fascinated by the sea. I get excited that a lot of it is still so unknown and there could be any number of weird and wonderful creatures down there. But having watched Jaws when I was six years old I have not been able to swim in the sea since. I have an irrational fear that I will have my legs bitten off by a shark. Which is a shame as I’m a good swimmer. I even had to get out of a swimming pool once as I was convinced the grills in the deep end of the pool (that controlled the wave machine) were hiding a shark that would be released when the waves were switched on. Yes, my brain is that much of an idiot. So there’s no way I could wet suit up and go diving in the sea. There’s actually no way I could wet suit up full stop; I don’t think there’s enough talcum powder in the UK to squeeze me into a suit. And if I did I’d have Greenpeace boats circling around me, protecting me from whalers.
Professional dancer – When I was little I loved watching the dancers on Top of the Pops. Pans People, Legs & Co, Hot Gossip, I loved watching them all. I even wrote to Jim’ll Fix It asking for Jim to fix it for me to dance with them. In retrospect I’m glad my letter wasn’t picked. But I wanted to dance and wear pretty floaty outfits with sparkles on, lots of sparkles. This however could not be a career choice of mine as being overweight with a severe lack of co-ordination is a hindrance to a dancer. I just dance unprofessionally in private now.
Vet – I love animals and helping to heal them would have been ideal. If I wasn’t allergic to animal fur and saliva. I think a vet specializing in the hairless Cornish rex cat and goldfish would be a little too niche. I would also find this too emotional, if I couldn’t save an animal I would be devastated and if I thought someone’s pet would be better off with me I would steal it and take it to my animal sanctuary that I would undoubtedly need. I would become a ‘petkleptomaniac’.

So there’s some career choices I didn’t make. But when I die I intend to have my ashes fired up into space (they’re attached to a rocket then parachuted off when out of Earth’s atmosphere apparently), so maybe I’ll get to explore the universe and become an astronaut after all.

Achievable Resolutions

Published December 31, 2015 by naomirettig

 

Achievable Resolutions

 

Every year I make the same New Year’s resolutions. To lose weight, get fit, and be nicer to people. When this doesn’t pan out by January 5th I resign myself to being one of life’s failures and I hibernate face down in a bag of Thornton’s Viennese truffles, consoling myself that I can try again next year. Well this year I have decided to give myself more realistic and achievable goals for the year ahead so I can feel on top of the world. Or at least on top of a high skyscraper. One with safety railings in place. On a non-windy day. Here are ten I believe I can achieve.

 

1. I will do the washing up every day. Or at least every other day. Otherwise, even though I live on my own, it appears like I’ve had a large dinner party every time I wash up.

 
2. I will not leave empty toilet roll tubes in the bathroom. Just because you can build a Roman temple out of them doesn’t mean you should.

 
3. I will shave my legs more often so that it doesn’t resemble a Wookiee massacre in the bath when I do.

 
4. I will use less cocktail umbrellas in everyday drinks. This is far to frivolous when I’m saving for a transatlantic trip.

 
5. I will eat more bananas and less fudge. I don’t think I eat enough bananas. I think I eat too much fudge.

 
6. I will not google medical symptoms to self-diagnose myself. Last year I had a brain tumor, a heart attack, an assortment of cancers and erectile dysfunction.

 
7. I will watch less television. My current 51 hours a week is far too excessive. 49.5 hours is my new target.

 
8. I will attempt to eat more green food. And unfortunately that doesn’t mean peppermint Aero’s. Does it?

 
9. I will not yawn in public without covering my mouth with my hand. It looks like I’m doing a performance art piece based on Edvard Munch’s ‘The Scream’. It’s not attractive or ladylike.

 
10. I will not shove whole Jaffa cakes into my mouth. Again, not attractive or ladylike.

 

So there you are, lower your expectations of yourself and release your inner winner.

Men – Perfect your Profile for a Deluge of Dating.

Published December 15, 2015 by naomirettig

(Dedicated to anyone who’s ever dipped their toe into internet dating waters)

 
Over the years I’ve been an intermittent user of online dating. Well, I say user, browser is more the correct term. I hardly met anyone from online dating sites, and this was not all down to me being picky, judgemental and anxious when it came to searching for a man. Ok, I am judgemental. I was put off by so many bad profiles. You could be the most wonderful person in the world but if your profile presents you badly you will be swiped left quicker than a greased up penguin on a water slide.
To help avoid tumbleweed on your exciting new dating account I have compiled some handy tips on what not to do for any men setting up a profile.

 
Your profile picture is important. Most people tick the box for ‘profiles with pic’ in their initial search, so if you haven’t got one then you have eliminated yourself from a big batch of ladies already. We want to see what you look like. No one would walk into a bar blindfolded and start chatting to potential dates, same principle here. So here we go.

 
Don’t pose in candlelight. If you do it could be assumed that you don’t pay your electricity bill, or that you look hideous in daylight.Or that you are a vampire.

 
Don’t wear sunglasses. Why are you hiding your eyes? They are the windows to your soul. Is your soul a scary place to peer into? Or maybe you are just boss eyed. There’s nothing wrong with that, but be honest.

 
Don’t use a dated photo from the seventies or eighties. If you think that’s your best photo, with a mullet/perm and orange polyester flares/turquoise shell suit, then goodness knows what you look like now. Not many women will be willing to take that chance. And if they are, then they are going to be more desperate than you.

 
Don’t pose in front of a tractor. You’re on a dating site, not featuring in ‘Farmers Weekly’. We like to imagine a man smelling of Joop, not poop.

 
Don’t post a photo of yourself wearing socks and sandals. This just screams out that you’ve not been near a woman in a while. A long while. An incredibly long while. And that you most likely still live with your mother.

 
Don’t post a photo of yourself crouched down by a riverbank holding a large brown trout. Again, you are on a dating site, not the letters page of ‘Angling Times’. Not many women will be thrilled with the prospect of you smelling of fish. If they are, you need to track down that specialist site.

 
Talking of specialist sites, please don’t post photos of yourself head to toe in a red latex gimp suit. If this is your ‘thing’ you’re better off on a site more catered to the fetish world. Side point – Why is it only weirdly shaped people, think human space hopper, that like to wear sprayed on PVC?

 
Please smile, it’s not a mugshot. You haven’t been arrested. Yet. So many profiles I’ve seen have frowning, miserable or disinterested faces staring back. Who wants to date Mr Angry, Mr Downer, or Mr Constipated?

 
Don’t post a photo that also has your friends in it. Especially if they are better looking than you. Although, if you think you are being clever by popping on a pic of you with ugly friends to make yourself look good, that could backfire if the ladies viewing think you’re that ugly one. So to avoid confusion all around, just post a photo of yourself alone. Or with a dog. No one will get you mixed up with a dog. But don’t just post a photo of your dog on its own. That’s just weird. Someone wants to potentially date you, not your pet.

 
Don’t post a photo of yourself drunk. You might think you giving the impression of being a fun party goer but you’re not. You just look like a twat. A drunken twat.

 
Don’t post a photo of yourself hugging a female. She may well be your sister but when glancing at the photo we won’t know this. We will assume she’s your last girlfriend. This is even worse if your sister is really attractive.We will think we are not pretty enough for you and move on. Sad but true.

 
Don’t post photos with your children in them. For a start you shouldn’t be putting pics of your children anywhere near a dating site. If you are pictured with your tribe of children it might be seen that you are just looking for a mother for your kids and not a partner for yourself. Maria Von Trapp apply within.

 
Don’t post up a torso shot of yourself. Yes, it’s lovely if you have an abdomen circa Peter Andre in 1996, but the fact that you don’t show your face indicates that either you look like the elephant man or that you are married. Both thoughts will get a swipe left into the reject pile of no return.

 
Now you have your profile picture sorted and have captured a lady’s eye, you need to have a good write up about yourself to capture the other bits of the lady that is looking at/scrutinizing you. Different dating sites have various sections and subsections for you to fill in. Please don’t leave blanks or write ‘I’ll fill this in later’. This just tells the reader that you can’t really be bothered and that you are lazy or stupid. None of which are qualities you look for in a new partner. You wouldn’t submit a CV to an employer with just your name on and ‘I’m looking for a job’ scrawled across it would you? If you would, stop reading now, there is no hope for you.

 
There’s usually a ‘tell us about yourself’ section. This is where you can dazzle the multitude of ladies out there and make yourself the must have date. Don’t be too generic. Make the viewer remember you, for the right reasons. Saying that you like sunsets, kittens and walks along the beach is far too clichéd and doesn’t narrow down things in common with your perfect person. After all, everyone likes that don’t they? You might as well say I love eating, sleeping and breathing. Then two thousand potential daters say ‘ooh I like that too!’ Be more specific. By revealing you like The Walking Dead, non-alcoholic pina coladas and taking photographs of marzipan animals, you might not get two thousand interested people but you will eliminate the people that you wouldn’t get along with. Although a word of caution – if the things you like are a bit too weird (making statues of European landmarks from your ear wax, eating roadkill, liking Coldplay) then maybe not advertise this.

 
The ‘what are you looking for’ section is slightly trickier. If you’re too specific, ‘I’m looking for a 5’5 tall skinny redhead with long curly hair’ you could be eliminating your perfect partner. A 5’4 tall skinny redhead with long curly hair might skip past you when she could be the one, or it might appear that you are not over your ex and are just searching for a lookalike. On the other hand, if you’re too vague ‘I’m looking for someone with a pulse’, you could seem a little desperate. Aim for something in the middle – ‘I’m looking for a fellow film buff who enjoys both snuggling on the sofa with a hot chocolate and going out and about exploring new places together, armed with a camera and a picnic.’ Set a scene for the lady reading your profile, let them imagine themselves in that scene with you, let them want to be in that scene with you.

 
Finally, your opening message is important too. You’ve done all the ground work with your amazing profile so you don’t want to sabotage that effort. Don’t go for a one word ‘hi’. While this is better than nothing at all, it’s not very imaginative. If the lady in question has just received twenty messages, you want yours to stand out from the herd. Don’t open with ‘You’re stunning, I would’, ‘You don’t look 40’, ‘Your hair looks nice’, or ‘I think you could be my next wife’. Yes, I have had all of these gems genuinely as a first message. While these were all meant to be complimentary, as an opening message they come across as being a bit creepy. The best opening messages are ones that show you’ve read the other person’s profile. Ask a question too as this is more likely to get a response. ‘Hi, I see you like horror films, my favourite is John Carpenters ‘The Fog’, what’s yours?’ is more likely to get you a reply than just ‘Hi’.

 
So there you are, a quick guide to setting up your online dating profile and getting one step closer to extra Christmas presents. And wearing your best pants.

 

Actually, always wear your best pants.

Twenty One Things I Learnt in New York.

Published November 4, 2015 by naomirettig

1. Airport security are not a warm welcome to America. Do not smile, try to be friendly, speak before you are spoken to, or sweat so much it appears that you are trying to disguise your fingerprints on their electronic hand scanner. If you do all of the above they will look at you as if you have smeared peanut butter on their pet Chihuahua and licked it. That’s not something you should do either.
2. Everyone says ‘you’re welcome’ if you say thank you. It sounded a bit weird and ‘Stepford Wives’ at first but then it becomes endearing. Or creepy. It flips between the two.
3. Never try to control an umbrella in the wind and rain on Liberty Island. Lady Liberty will just watch over you and snigger as you do your best Mary Poppins impression. She’s quite sturdy to withstand the weather there. The Statue of Liberty that is, not Mary Poppins.
4. American eateries presume you are eating for three. I know I look like I’ve smuggled a family of Mexicans under my shirt but I really only want food for one.
5. In high tide you need mountaineering skills to board the gangway of the Liberty tour boat. Shoes with grips are recommended. Or crampons. If you have those with you then you will board the boat with the grace and poise of a gazelle, instead of the bottom out stumbling style of a tipsy hippo that I demonstrated.
6. The ‘Skyride’ at the Empire State Building is NOT the lift to the viewing deck. Do not do what I did and wander in thinking you are going in a fast elevator only to be seated with a rollercoaster bar locked over you and an icy cold flow of ‘uh oh’ twisting through your veins. Apparently you see New York from a helicopter perspective. I didn’t as I found the inside of my eyelids less vomit inducing to watch. The jolting movements were enough of a stimulation to me and my stomach.
7. Books in the public library are well hidden. I couldn’t see any. I thought I’d wandered into a museum instead. They probably did have some there but I like books to ooze out rather than have to be squeezed out.
8. Look out for low tree branches and traffic lights when on a tour bus. If you are 5’8 or above the chances of your head smacking on low bobbing objects are 72%. It will however cause you great exhilaration when you dodge a head shot.
9. There are more adverts than actual shows on the television channels. If you have a short attention span this is great, if not it’s just very annoying.
10. All medical ads come with so many disclaimers I’m surprised they sell any products at all. Most medicine pitches end with ‘this product may cause heart failure’.
11. There are so many channels on the television but not much to watch. If you like news and sports though you will be fine.
12. Fire engine sirens sound like a person screaming while falling from a high building. I thought there were a lot of suicides happening before realising this.
13. Teachers don’t like to supervise their children at the Ellis Island museum at all times as they are instructed to do. My mind Taser didn’t work on them unfortunately.
14. The largest sapphire in the world in the American Museum of Natural History looks like a glass paperweight. I think someone may have switched it when the security guard wasn’t looking. He looked very bored and could have been easily distracted with a pastrami sandwich and a fizzy drink.
15. Chinatown is the place for a massage. Every other store is a massage emporium.
16. Macy’s is just a department store. I don’t know what I was expecting but I was underwhelmed. Maybe because I don’t like shopping, it might have been paradise to others but it was just a big shop to me.
17. It’s very friendly, friendlier than London I thought.
18. A medium drink carton in the Regal Cinema on 42nd Street is twice the size of my bladder.
19. If you are getting in a cab in rush hour you need to either close your eyes or pretend you are filming the latest Fast and Furious movie.
20. New York police direct traffic at night with flashing glow sticks. I could not be trusted with flashing glow sticks. I would dance.
21. I love New York City more than I thought I would and will return again and again. And again.

Valentine’s Day for Singles

Published February 9, 2015 by naomirettig

It’s that annoying time of the year again when shop windows fill with a sea of red love hearts and loved up smug couples flaunt their sickly sweet soulmate status, while feeling sorry for singletons and their miserable lonely existences. Yes, I’m not a fan of the over commercialised event of Valentine’s Day.
I don’t like the fact that florists, hotels and restaurants hike up their prices for this day – I know they are in business and need to make money but I still find it distasteful. I don’t like the assumption that it’s just this one day of the year that you show the person that you love you care – you don’t need a special day to do this. I don’t like couples who send vomit inducing messages on social media for all to see –tell each other privately, why do you need to tell everyone/show off about it.
Now don’t get me wrong, I am surprisingly an eternal romantic even though I’ve been single for many years now. I’m more in love with the idea of being in love than actually being in love though. It’s exciting to imagine that my soulmate is out there somewhere and that fate will guide us together in some mysterious circumstance, our eyes will meet and we will instantly know we are destined to be together for eternity. But in reality I know the chances of this happening are a slither of slim. I manage to hide this hope of ‘my soulmate is out there’ at the back of my brain, filed away with ‘someone will invent calorie free chocolate’ and ‘if I mentally promise to donate half to charity I will win the lottery jackpot’.
Maybe that’s why I don’t like Valentine’s Day too, a reminder of another year sailed by without bumping into said soulmate (and another year without calorie free chocolate and a lottery win). So when I see the sea of red and pink hearts surging up the high street I have to remind myself how good it is to be single to stop myself sinking in the suffocating waves of organised romance.
There are wonderful advantages to being single. Your legs are warmer in winter as there is no need to shave them, although when you shave for summer dresses it will appear that you’ve massacred Chewbacca in your bath tub. You can watch whatever television you like and when you like, no having to put up with silly sports channels or being tutted at when watching hours of soap operas. There are no tedious in-laws to dutifully visit or partner’s friends that you have to tolerate when you would really like to smack them across the face with a wet haddock. You can starfish in bed at night, fidget away and keep all the duvet to yourself, not to mention the bliss of a quiet night’s sleep with no snoring or heaving breathing next to you that leaves you contemplating first degree murder. You can also have lovely lazy days where you don’t have to bother brushing your hair and applying your face and you can feel happy lounging around in the nude without constantly holding your tummy in. Also you will have healthier intestines too as there is no need to hold wind in, extra beneficial being a vegetarian.
I unfortunately can’t banish Valentine’s Day so instead I will celebrate with the current soulmate in my life – me. I will treat myself to some lovely gifts perfect for me (Erica Spindler’s new thriller book, the Fawlty Towers scripts and Monty Python’s Holy Grail script) and spoil myself with a luxurious candlelit bath after work while sipping non-alcoholic pina colada (my tipple of choice) before watching a Judd Nelson movie (getting to spend the evening with the most handsome man on the planet) and enjoying a Marks & Spencer meal for one.
I suppose I have fallen into the consumer trap of this day. And that little seed of hope will be waiting for flowers from a secret admirer to be delivered in work and an array of admirer’s cards waiting on my doormat on return from work. They won’t, and I shall be momentarily disappointed before reminding myself that I’m spending the evening with someone that loves me unconditionally and forever. Me. So if you are single on Valentine’s Day: love yourself, be kind to yourself and remind yourself how special you are, too special to share in fact!

A Colonoscopy Adventure

Published January 19, 2015 by naomirettig

I arrived bright and early at Nevil Hall Hospital. When I say bright I of course mean the day was bright not me. I was feeling hollow and fantasizing about soup – carrot and coriander. I also had the shakes. My body wasn’t enjoying the effects of no food for twenty hours and it certainly didn’t like the lava waterfall the night before courtesy of ‘klean prep’. Horrific and no more will be said of that.
I reported to the desk of the LLanwenarth day surgery suite, which makes it sound quite glamorous, and waited my turn. A lovely nurse called Judy checked me in and took all my details, my allergies: penicillin, animal saliva and fur, broad beans. I’m guessing they only needed to know about the penicillin allergy. Judy then discovered my blood pressure was a little high – no surprise as I was in the middle a panic attack. I was given wrist bands on each arm (appearing like I’d been to a really good festival) and an extra red one alerting anyone of my penicillin allergy. I was disappointed I didn’t have one alerting people to not feed me broad beans.
Judy then left the room for me to strip off and change into the fashionable hospital gown. I’m being sarcastic, it was anything but fashionable. I know these have to be low budget but surely they could find material suppliers with cheap funky designs. I’d want disco cats on mine. After a quick sit down in a side waiting room, doing some last minute Facebooking and a quick Kindle read, I was whisked into the treatment room.
My veins are cowardly and like to play hide and seek and thought it would be great fun to disappear completely. It took a full ten minutes for the surgeon to get a cannula in a vein. The nurse had looked first and decided she’d leave it to the surgeon as she couldn’t find any at all to even have a stab at. Now ten minutes may not sound long but when you are needle and hospital phobic and already struggling to hold onto happy thoughts to stay in your happy place, (a snowy winter forest with a wolf watching over me), having people tapping all over your arms and hands to find a vein seems like hours. The surgeon kept apologising for my uncooperative veins while he tapped. It reminded me of when seagulls tap the ground to get worms to rise to the surface.
I was given a drug first to make me woozy, it did and I felt nicely fuzzy headed. Then I was given anesthetic to make me sleepy and floating but not go under. I don’t know if I had a little too much but my blood pressure dropped like Mafioso in concrete boots and I went under. That was my highlight. It was heavenly. I felt myself free falling slowly down through water with friendly pink and green spotty octopi and electric blue jellyfish buffeting me like mini trampolines as I sank. I felt so relaxed. So I wasn’t best pleased with the nurse for waking me up and I asked her to leave me with the octopus. She didn’t though and I had pain inside that I can’t even describe. Every time I cried out in pain I apologised straight away for being a baby. I requested ‘give me more’ meaning give me more drugs but it felt like this had been misinterpreted as give me more tubing up my backside!
The nurse was a star though and tried to keep me calm by reminding me how to breathe, always good to be reminded, and telling me that she would like to go and work in Canada but her boyfriend doesn’t want to leave the UK. I normally wouldn’t offer advice without being asked but the power of anesthetic removes the filter of tact. ‘Leave him behind’ was my helpful drugged up advice. She had lovely eyebrows and an unpronounceable Welsh name beginning with I. ‘Ooh that’s exotic! Where are you from?’ ‘Merthyr’.
I was wheeled to the wake up room and had three more lovely nurses looking after me, well, chatting by my bedside monitoring my blood pressure readings. Its great lying back with your eyes closed listening to other peoples conversations. I learnt that a nurse in another room was a boring stickler to the rules with no sense of humour but she had a sporty car with a double exhaust. Yes, a double exhaust – this was quite out of character apparently. One of the nurses around my bed had moved to Abergavenny from Bristol to be near her husband’s family but they were all horrid to her and she wanted to move back, but he didn’t want to move. ‘Leave him behind’ I shouted in my head. That seemed to be my stock advice of the day. Do what you want with your life not what others want you to do.
After sitting in a squeaky green pleather chair with a cup of tea (which tasted like the best tea ever) for half an hour I was discharged home with a report of a normal healthy colon and wind noises in my bowels sounding like a blue whale fighting with Chewbacca. Happy days.