This is a quick note about how I tried not to let a bad memory ruin my morning. One of my work colleagues became a dad yesterday, which meant that this morning people in the office were talking about birth, labour, c-sections and epidurals. I sat listening while working (it’s a small office, it’s impossible not to listen), until the bit about the epidural, at which point I grabbed my headphones, went to YouTube and clicked on the first music video I saw. Which, usefully, was Slipknot, but anything would have worked to drown out what they were saying.

The reason being, when I had my colon removed I had an epidural. God, it hurt. It hurt so much I wondered why they didn’t give me anything first so I wouldn’t feel the epidural going in! I don’t know what an epidural looks like, or really where it goes. I remember sitting up in the anesthetic room, which was like a cupboard leading to Narnia, except in this Narnia they slice you open. I remember them undoing my gown at the back so I was only an inch or two from losing what little dignity I had left. I remember swinging my legs around and sitting on the side of the bed so that they could put it in. I remember it felt violent, like they had to push really hard to get it in. And it hurt. A lot. I don’t think I cried, but remembering it is like remembering something that happened while I was drunk or drugged up, it was so surreal. I was fucking terrified. I remember getting ready for bed on my first day back at home and realising that after a week I still had some sort of sticker stuck to my back. It feels like another life ago. And all that, from a couple of people in the office talking about having an epidural during labour.

So, anyway, I put music on and blocked out the rest of their conversation, and I told myself to stop thinking about it, and to write it up at lunchtime if I just wanted to get it out, so that’s what I’m doing, and I’m just leaving it here. It’s out now, time to continue with the rest of the day, uninterrupted.