Previously… I was admitted to A+E on Thursday 6th August 2009.

I had multiple checks throughout the Thursday and the Friday. There was much prodding, scanning and waiting. During one of the morning rounds, I met my consultant ‘friend’ to whom I shall now refer as Alan. He shared with me that I would need a keyhole procedure relating to my appendicitis. I knew what an appendicitis was due to watching Grey’s Anatomy. I took comfort regarding the ‘keyhole’ remark, as my brain envisioned a small scar and a few more days in hospital. Fair play, I thought.

Little did I know that my abdominal pain over the course of the next 24 hours had a mind of its own. The pain shifted from the centre of my abdomen to the lower right side of my abdomen. Alan diagnosed my new condition after learning the results from another CT scan. I was now diagnosed with a perforated appendix. Sadly, for me, keyhole surgery was no longer an option, as my internals had to be cleaned out due to the poisonous abscess that has now leaked inside my body.

Due to the nature of my newly-confirmed diagnosis, Alan was taken off my case. Instead, I was assigned a new consultant to whom I shall refer as Dr M. The new consultant had a strange ego. He came across as very assertive and almost bossy like to the nurses, whom I felt sorry for. In fact, he didn’t think my Dad was actually my Dad (due to my mixed background). Neither of us took offense, but his grandeur presence amongst his peers and ward nurses made me nervous.

Anyhow, I was originally scheduled to have my operation on Friday, but due to the surgical scheduling and the frequent emergency surgeries that jumped ahead of me, my operation was put on hold until Saturday morning. God-incidentally, Dr M was also taken off my case due to his sudden unavailability. Meanwhile, I was assigned a third consultant to whom I shall refer as Dr K.

Dr K was a nice doctor. He had a calm aura and he was very personable towards my parents. However, due to the backlog of emergency surgeries over the weekend, I was pushed back to the afternoon. Later in the day, I was notified that my surgery would be delayed yet again. This time, I was scheduled towards the tail end of Saturday evening. I had mixed feelings, as I hoped the medical team were still alert to perform on me.

Towards the final stretch of Saturday evening that I had been waiting for my surgery, I eventually threw up inside. This was around an hour after signing the declaration form to grant surgery. It could be argued that I had been waiting for 12 hours from Saturday morning, to over 24 hours when I was to have a surgery of a simpler kind.

Before I was to be ushered from my private ward room to the operating room downstairs, I had texted a few folk of my pending surgery and told my parents NOT to come up, in case they wanted to see me. I just wanted to focus my mindset on the surgery and seek God for His peace. I still recall smiling from a text message that I received from a dear brother in Christ, who shared a prophetic word of a ‘stone’ that had to be removed. I knew he was nervous to share this revelation, but for me, I knew I had to go under the knife – for my own good.

I trusted the medical team who would perform on me. I suspect it was a small knit team of four. Dr K was in the other room prepping for surgery. When I was wheeled into the special pre-op room, I met two scrub nurses who went through various checks. The lady anaesthetist made sure I could count to 10… which I recall only counting up to 3, before I was away with the fairies.


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