I had just been to my physiologist accompanied by my best friend (I would probably go as far as to say saviour). I had seen Dr J (the Physcologist in question) once before over my Anxiety issues – which aren’t that bad really but do get very pronounced in hospital. We had a brief talk about what was going to happen and he told me something pretty powerful: “if you weren’t anxious about what’s about to happen I’d have you committed – your life is about to change”. I walked out with some strong anti-anxiety medication for hospital feeling a bit better about how churned up inside I was.

We went back to Ross’s while Stocker was at work and watched snowboarding videos for the rest of the afternoon. I could have probably been at work that day, but really?

Don’t get me wrong I knew that I was in good hands but I also knew there were risks too. I wanted to spend the day and night with people I loved – not doing something pointless surrounded by people who don’t even have the guts to stab me in the front (see what I did there with the IBD pun).

The prep for surgery was strange… it was just fast for 24 hours… that’s it. No bowel prep. I wasn’t excited about the prospect of bowel prep but I did understand the point of it.

The hardest part of the day before was (and I suppose will always be) the not knowing. This is my first surgery, but my doctors have been very straight with me – it will not be my last. At my surgical consult back in late September I saw my last MRI for the first time – even I could see there was a lot going on. I was one of those people that had a high chance of bowel being fused – which means that my Laparoscopic surgery could turn into open bowel surgery very… very… quickly. If that was to happen, my time in hospital would double almost instantly… on average you’re in for 5 days for laparoscope (even though I was determined I was going to be one of those people who were in and out in 3 days) you were in for 10-12 days for open bowel.

I was both happy and pleased though – I got to spend some time with those key people and tell them all how I felt. I considered writing to them… but then I put myself in their shoes. If something did happen, would I prefer to get a letter from the person who I can’t see or touch anymore or would I prefer to have known going in – that was a no brainer.

At the end of the day before I had my first show with “the sponge” which I’m sure they give you as some strange form of doctor humour or penance… it was pretty disgusting… and I thought any chances of spending that night in the arms of my husband were well and truly wishful thinking.

He muddled through though… I took my anti-anxiety medication to get one last nights sleep before surgery the next day and I thankfully fell into a dreamless sleep.