I took some 200 photos while at the Nuffield. I wanted to document it well, gory bits and all. You won't see anything intimate (and necessarily bloody, swollen, and likely to make you flinch) here - nor on my Flickr site. But there were plenty of myself looking cheerful - not all taken by myself of course - which reveal the pilgrim's progress. Here's a selection of the best, or at least part 1 of that.
I'm sorry that it's taken so long to process them at home. But it takes time, I had to do it at an awkward angle, and I kept falling asleep!
First, how I used to look, three days before admission, at my cousin R---'s. We'd been to Canterbury. Here I look wistfully at a Jacques Vert silk dress that I've just bought, but can't wear for at least two months:
Now fast forward to admission day. The plate on my room at the Nuffield:
Mr Philip Thomas; Miss Lucy Melford. Yep, the right combo.
A bit later. The afterrnoon is turning into early evening. I'm alone. Was there something just a little nervous in that smile? I'm afraid there was! Gulp.
Then I relaxed. Hey-ho, what's an operation? Just a few nips and tucks.
In fact, by early next morning - surgery day - and once dolled up in theatre togs, I began to feel rather light-hearted. Here I'm actually having a little dance. Twist and shout, baby!
Who's a cutie, then?
Oh no! The brittle smile is back! I can hear them coming to take me away! But the girl will be all right. In fact it'll be a gas.
The gods will surely smile on me. St David will protect me. And Fiona, Verity and the Jacques Vert dress await. I can't let them down.
To be continued with my wake up after the op...