put to sleep - part I

My rdv with the anaesthetist went well, I was early for my appointment and walked into a packed waiting room so expected a LONG wait. I HAD taken a book in anticipation, but no, my name was called immediately (I think the clinic must pay rentacrawd to hang out in their waiting rooms) and I was ushered through and told to undress. A very jolly but slightly mad professor looking guy bounced in to see me and, seemingly oblivious to the fact that I was stark bollock naked and feeling somewhat self-conscious, starting prodding and taking readings and asking questions. He briefly suggested that I might like to watch the operation (!!!!!!) until he noticed my now ashen face and the sudden rise in my blood pressure.....as a result I am scheduled to be knocked out with a full general and plenty of hopefully mind-bending drugs and operated on on Friday 25th at 8.30am. Should be out in the early evening if all goes well. We are going to close the restaurant that evening, as Gregoire will pick me up just in case I'm a jibbering twerp. I am still, however, reeling from the swiftness of everything. The last time I experienced anything involving an operating theatre I was in my early 20's and living in the delightful borough of Lewisham. I suffered a rather badly timed burst appendix and peritonitis (on July 2nd - I had organised a big July 4th party to coincide with a visiting American friend) and I had the clinic staff rolling around in fits of laughter with my description of my appendectomy saga and the horrific treatment I received in Lewisham hospital (which also made me realise that the last time I was operated on was in 1987 - things have changed since then I was assured). I shouldn't worry, the clinic is very very posh and I have a lovely brochure about what to expect etc - they even give you an instruction booklet on how to wash.