Eleven years ago I was in Hillingdon Hospital with some rather severe peritonsillar abscess. I was scheduled for surgery. The morning of the surgery I had been given a mild sedative as part of the process leading to my being put to sleep for the relatively simple op.
I was definitely in a daze when the aid began preparing me to be rolled into theatre. He said �Hi Bill,� are you ready? I quietly responded �yes.� I could hardly speak. He rolled me to the anteroom that leaded to the theatre. There, one of the staff inserted a line into my vein, and straightened me on the gurney As the young man leaned over me � he had a nice, comforting smile, he asked me � now Bill, this shouldn�t take too long. Typically, an orchiectomy can take less than thirty minutes � depending on how many sutures are required. All I said was �thanks.� But just as the words were leaving my mouth, a gnawing sense was rising from within. This word..this word�orchiectomy. It didn�t sound right.
At that second, I don�t know which came first- the theatre nurse now standing before me, looking at my wrist band to match my name against her chart instructions, or my starting to fly up from the gurney in an absolute state of panic. But I do know I must have flown up fast as I accidentally knocked the chart out of her hand as I scrambled to sit up and escape.
�Wait a minute,� she said, hardly acknowledging I was trying to scramble off the gurney, �you�re not William Harmond, are you?� There was no way I let those two staff keep me on that gurney! I walked out of the anteroom, with that tasteful yet exposed hospital gown on, bum flying in the wind as I scrambled back to my bay.
Poor soul, William Harmond had much more to be fretting about than I.
It wasn�t funny at the time. But it has certainly made the rounds with my friends and at the most inopportune times, someone just has to tell the story.
Leapin