Breathe and thank your lucky stars

All I could see was neon-lit light fixtures flashing past above my head and the odd glimpse of sundry body parts of people walking by. It was like starring in my very own episode of Chicago Med.

Then: “Just breathe deeply”, as the oxygen mask was clamped to my face and someone busied themselves with the IV line in my right arm.

I was going to joke that: “Hey, am I supposed to count backwards now?”. But I never got it out. Because the whole world went blank. And then resumed again just over 60 minutes later.

There was no sense of time passing. A light going off and then coming on again immediately.

It’s only the second anaesthetic I’ve had in my life – and only my first admission to hospital.

And given the sort of things I’ve got up to in my life – both willingly and unwillingly – I’d have to consider that a bonus, or perhaps something on the way to a miracle.

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And consider – or ponder or think – is what you do, both before and after you end up under a surgeon’s hands.

In my case it wasn’t really a big deal – an appendix whipped out before it could cause any serious trouble (Yes, I know: at my age? Really?).

Among my pondering was the concern that perhaps the anaesthetist may have missed something in my pre-op assessment and that I might go wheels-up on the table.

Will in order? Check. We did that a year or two ago…

More than anything, the contemplation brought confirmation that, while I may have lived fast on many occasions, I certainly wouldn’t go leaving behind that good-looking corpse.

Which brought me on to the others I’ve known who would never have been wearied by age, as I have been wearied.

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Mates from school who died fighting a needless bush war.

My next-door neighbour (I was best man at his wedding) who died from spinal cancer in his early 30s.

Photographers who pushed their luck too many times. Or one who took his own life, as Kevin Carter did because the world was a broken place and he couldn’t fix it.

When it was time to leave, I refused the wheelchair and hobbled slowly out. It was a Sunday. A bitter cold wind was blowing. My side sent the odd stab of pain rushing around.

What a wonderful world to be able to feel such things…