Winged Eel Fingerling cured of Dupuytren's Contracture

Yesterday saw my second operation for Dupuytren's Contracture, just over six months since the first. This time the culprit was the ring finger of my left hand. Unfortunately, due to the recurrent nature of the condition this will most likely not be my last treatment for it, but my consultant tells me of a new procedure involving injections rather than operations, already in use in the USA, is well on its way to NICE approval, so future treatments will hopefully be less stressful. Again I am grateful to that wonderful British institution the National Health Service. How the less well off cope in countries that rely on private health insurance is beyond me, and the NHS is one reason I'm glad I was born in the UK.

Apart from the now expected interminable hanging around, and despite my initial weird bout of nerves - I breezed through the first op when it was an unknown quantity, but foreknowledge had made me decidedly wobbly this time, for some reason - once in the operating theatre I was fine. Sedatives doing their trick, I'd imagine.

As was the case the first time, the op was carried out under a local anaesthetic, this time abetted by a total nerve block. Flat on my back with my "dead" left arm strapped down and hidden from my view by a sheet screen, the consultant and his surgeon began chopping away at the extraneous fibrous tissue build up at the base of my left ring finger. Unbeknownst to them I could make out most of what was going on in a reflection in the large overhead light diffuser, the sort you also find in dentist's practices. Probably due to the drugs I know, but I felt strangely detached from it all, so much so that watching my spliced hand was actually quite interesting! At one point a surgeon had in his hand what looked like an electric toothbrush, but with a tiny saw at the end. It made a satisfying buzzing sound as he turned it on and lowered it to my hand, grinning manically...."Mwahahaha".

OK I made that last bit up, but the electric toothbrush with saw attachment was indeed used. Fittingly enough, the last song played in the theatre from a random selection of old rock stuff on a nurse's iPod was Free's Alright Now. The operation had lasted over an hour, and I was wheeled back to the day ward where I was served copious amounts of tea and marmalade (my choice) on toast. Like I say, the NHS IS WONDERFUL, so hands off, Lord Snooty.

No doubt many visits to the lovely Jen in hand therapy await, so it's not all bad, this raspberry business.

The Maw of Me (in reverse)