Dave had worked a night shift overnight, so I was alone in the morning, visiting hours started at 11 am.
Here's an interesting little thing about catheters. They are supposed to drain automatically. Sometimes, for no apparent reason, they don't drain. If this happens, the nurses have to periodically come and help it drain, simply by moving the tube around a bit to get things flowing. They call this 'milking' which sounds so revolting to me it goes back to being funny.
Nurses come and check on you a lot at first, and as my catheter needed milking I may have been getting even more visits than otherwise.
In the morning a lady came in and said she was here to take my blood. She was probably used to patients then just dutifully sticking out their arm at her.
Instead - I asked her what the blood test was for. I was not expecting a blood test. I know now it is very standard after surgery. But I'd never had surgery before.
She told me it was standard. Well, OK, but what are they testing for? She didn't know. Well who asked for the tests? She didn't know that either.
This was not very reassuring for me - quite the opposite. And I don't think she really appreciated all the questions! By the time she was taking my blood, I blurted out that she was taking my blood and I didn't know why, to which she told me it was her job and she wasn't steeling it!
I burst into tears. This made my wounds hurt. My beeping machines started beeping quite urgently. It was all quite pathetic really.
The blood test lady scarpered out with my blood closing the door behind her. I felt too foolish to call for a nurse, but my catheter needed milking again anyway so eventually I did. They were horrified when I told them about my experience, sent some feedback to the pathology people, and put lots of very big warnings on my notes that I don't like needles.