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.
Leave a Reply