That’s the noise Rhys’ little epidural machine makes every few minutes as it gives him a dose of painkillers.
As usual on these big days, he was on great form as we arrived at the hospital this morning.
Having made his bed socks into puppets and impressed his nurses with knowledge of the songs from Grease he went down for surgery at about 11:30am. He’d been sedated 30 minutes prior to surgery and waved as he was wheeled off into theatre in a drunken haze.
At that point a curious calm descends. There’s not a lot you can do beyond texting family and drinking coffee. I caught the last 10 minutes of Germany v Italy on the waiting room TV. It felt like a massive dereliction of duty.
Dr Park came to see us once Rhys was ‘closed’ to say that he’d cut an average amount of nerves and that he was very happy with how the surgery had gone.
Rhys was very groggy in the recovery room and has been all evening on the ward.
The juice that’s he’s drunk he’s mostly thrown up (which is common) but at the moment he isn’t too distressed and he’s calm. Time to try and snooze myself.