A tiny pulse. I’d have preferred a tiny bum

IREMEMBER some years ago, when I had some ear trouble, being told that I had tiny ear canals. I dined out for ages on it. There’s been very little small about me. Ever. Now I went for an angiogram some weeks ago. Because the stress test that I did wasn’t great, there was a possibility of a stent. Off I went with my new dressing gown, new slippers and new nightie. And then they put me into the hospital gown that left my little ass hanging out the back. And wheeled me into the little theatre. You’ll be wide awake they assured me.

Now I actually like being heavily sedated. I love the gaga feeling as you come to. So I gritted my teeth and closed my eyes as the action started. And my imagination started to go into overdrive. After many attempts the cardiologist, whose head was very near mine told me I had a tiny pulse. It sounded sexy for one minute. Why couldn’t I have a tiny ass and calves instead of a pulse and ear canals? And then he decided he had to go in through the femoral artery in the groin. So my knickers had to come off. I have never had so many people trying to yank my knickers off at one time. And I’ve had a fairly chequered life. I thought he was going to shout ‘scalpel’ and cut them off. Mortifying.

As I lay there my imagination started to really run riot. I had visions of “Holy sh*t, we have a bleed out”. And stuff like “No pulse. No pulse. Patient arresting. We’re losing her! Clamp, 30 units needed. Stat”.

I survived but afterwards I had to lie flat for four hours and ended up having to use a bed pan. So it rapidly went from day ward to day room. It’s all downhill from here on in.