Okay, so just in time to break up any Christmas celebrating I may have been doing, they scheduled my angiogram for 19 December 2001.  

I don't want to scare you but the angiogram is the most serious test you do before the operation.  Luckily, unlike some of the others, they don't repeat them the day before the op (thankfully!)  Although it is nerve wracking, there is nothing actually painful about it, but it did leave me feeling pretty wobbly for a few days, and so is the first taste of really feeling incapacitated.

So, back to Portsmouth.  I stayed the night before at my mum's because the test was scheduled very early.  I took the day off work as I was told I'd have to stay in the hospital for around half a day but was pretty sure I'd make it home later on.  I think that they told me you're not supposed to drive that day so I took the train.

I love my mum dearly but one of the things she is not so great at doing is leaving the house on time.  Now, despite being blasé about most things I was quite nervous about this test so really wanted her with me to hold my hand.  Unfortunately we had the usual running back into the house to check she had her driving glasses and so on, (we joked the other day that she would never have made a good bank robber – she'd have to keep going back to check she'd emptied the safe properly.)  Anyway we were so late that she had to drop me off and go and park, so I had to go in alone (which I was actually pretty upset about.)  Anyway the nurses calmed me down after that and even let me use their changing rooms to go to the loo and change into my surgical gown.  (Yes, get used to them!)

So anyway, there I was, lying on a proper operating type table now, in a big theatre with huge screens above me (or at least this is how I remember it.)  Everyone is very nice.  One of the good things about having a fairly serious procedure is that there are usually lots of people around and they are super nice to you.  Also, let me reiterate, this doesn't hurt as they numb the area before doing anything – not even as painful as a blood test!

So, the first thing; they numbed the area at the top of my right leg (this is where there is a nice juicy vein) with an anaesthetic wipe.  Then they made a small incision.  Then they thread a tube down the vein and over to your kidneys, so that they can inject a dye which flushes through your kidneys and is visible on the screens above.  (The nurse warned me before doing this that, when they injection the dye, it feels like you have wet yourself – everyone gets very apologetic, but it is just the dye.) 

Then they injected the dye, and yes it did feel like I had wet myself.  Then I looked up and saw my kidneys on the screen – wow!  Beautiful blood vessels and everything.  The right one had one blood vessel and the left one had two (they don't take kidneys with more than that, I don't think) so this is when they decided to take the right one (usually they take the left one if you are right handed, and vice versa just to make it a little easier for the donor.)

Then I felt a trickle and was sure I had wet myself. 

"I'm really sorry" I said "I think I've wet myself."

"No, you’re fine" said the nurse "it's just the dye."

"But I can feel that it's all wet down there?"

She hesitated.  "That's just the blood."

Gah.

Yes it is a bit gross. 

Anyway, then they take all the tubes out and put pressure on the wound at the top of your leg.  For some reason they don't put any stitches or plasters or anything.  The idea is that just by applying pressure and letting the air get to it that the area closes itself up.  Oh yes and you can't sit or stand up for half a day afterwards.  So you get pushed around the hospital to a ward where you have to lie still and hope that it all closes up.  This is quite unnerving, especially as you are applying the pressure yourself – nurses have better things to do.

Then I needed a wee.  You can't get up, so the rather brusque nurse came over with a pot for me – oh joy! – pulled the curtain round and left me to it.  Nurses are a mixed bag, you'll find that some are superstars, some are just bitches, but maybe they're just having a bad day.  So, after leaving me with the pot and a confused expression (I don't know, I'd never had to use one of these before) I did my best to haul myself onto it (this was before surfing so I had really weak arm muscles; I recommend you do a few press ups before you have your angiogram!) and… managed to wet the bed really properly.  I rang the bell and apologised profusely, and they had to pick me out of the bed so they could change it.  I’d love to say I felt really sorry for the nurse, but come on, if you'd helped me do it in the first place you wouldn't have had to change the sheets.  (Okay I'm giggling now – so wrong.)

Anyway I finally was allowed to get up and go home later that day – but there was no way I could get on the train, so I ended up staying another night at my mum's.  I remember my grandma being there too – she was so lovely, very involved the whole way through, she also came over to check on me lots after the operation.  

The next day I insisted on getting a train home (having called in sick to work.)  I remember every bump on that train ride.  I don't think it really hurt, but it made me nauseous and uncomfortable, as did the speed bumps in the cab ride from the train station. 

The next day I was in Debenhams trying to do a little bit more Christmas shopping and all of a sudden I had to find a chair and sit down and I remember thinking: “Is this what it's going to be like?” 

The truth is that yes, you are going to be very weak for what feels like a very long time – but if you take care of yourself there is absolutely no reason you cannot be even fitter afterwards.