I had the game of Operation when I was young. The buzzer made my mum jump so much, she’d mutter something under her breath. We have a modern version of it in the house, but it’s a fiddly game, requiring dexterity and good manipulation skills. With my disabled fingers, I quite often lose. I have grown oblivious to the buzzer, and the children love to win.
I’ve had plenty of operations over the years, mainly to repair my hands from rheumatoid arthritis. I have complete faith in my surgeon – he’s not put a foot, wrist or tendon wrong. He and his team have enabled my hands to function.
Okay, my hands don’t function as well as an able-bodied person, but on good days, I can wag a beautifully fused finger at Gajitman, and I can write.
My next op is Friday 13th December. An interesting date for some, but one that doesn’t worry me. My daughter was born on the 13th (not December). I consider 13 a fantastic number. This is a wrist operation, designed to save my tendons further damage, and to alleviate some pain.
There will be photos, because I am fascinated by the whole process. I was allowed to take a peek during my thumb fusion surgery a few years ago, but I suspect taking my camera in to the theatre for this might be pushing things.
I’m not particularly prone to nerves, unless I know I’ve done something wrong, and them I’m sick to the stomach with them, so at this stage, I’m calm, and looking forward to getting this repair done and dusted. I can then focus on writing book 3. I’m more concerned about getting everything ready in time for Christmas.
This year, Gajitman (old enough) and Child Number One (13) will be in charge of Christmas Lunch. Child Number Two, (8) who has developed a fondness for washing the dishes, will make sure things are clean and tidy around the house. He even straightened my collar for me yesterday, and when I thanked him for taking care of me, he said, ‘Well, you won’t be able to do it when you’re in plaster.’
See you the other side.