Is Ignorance Bliss?

Tomorrow we have to take Mr Bee to the vet. This is such a traumatic event for him we are having to give him sedatives just to get him there. That's six tablets, three tonight, three in the morning two hours before he goes and a syringe of fluid that has to be applied to his gums half an hour before the appointment! A cool £50 plus if you please.

I can't say I blame him for being scared. He was rushed to the vets when he was hit by a car at 18 months old. Two fractured ribs and a punctured lung didn't make the visit a pleasant one. This was after he'd had a chunk ripped out of him by another dog while playing. Unfortunately, lurchers have very thin skin so he had little protection and stitching him up wasn't easy. Again, not a pleasant experience, but there was more to come. A friend of his who was usually bouncy and playful off lead, was lead reactive and attacked Mr Bee unexpectedly. We didn't think too much of it at the time, just a scuffle and he had a slight nick on his head but the next day he'd blown up like a balloon. Again, off to the vets to be told he had sepsis and was put on antibiotics pronto. I could go on but you get the idea; he's been through it and now vets cannot get near him and he has even been known to pass out.

He takes after me it seems. I don't deal well with any sort of procedure at all; I'm even nervous at the dentist. When I was a child my parents had to bribe me to have any treatment done. It worked in my favour however, and I ended up with the complete works of Abba on vinyl; I was the envy of every self-respecting child of the time.

Earlier this year I had to have a gastroscopy which I was assured by the copious amount of paperwork received, was a quick and painless procedure. However, they did offer sedation for nervous patients! So I arrived at the allotted time for my three hour appointment brimming with confidence as I confirmed that yes please, I certainly would take that sedation thank you very much.

I didn't fully think it through though, and as I was shown into a small waiting room where four other women were already seated, I glanced at their carefully positioned hands and realised in sudden horror that I was going to have to be canulated! At that point I don't know if I was more worried about the canulation or the fact that I'd been ignorant enough to not have even consider how this was going to work. Two lovely nurses soon arrived with a little silver tray and I recoiled at the vicious looking needle. Unfortunately one of them was a trainee who proceeded to use me as a pin cushion while she attempted to insert the cannula. Luckily, after a glance at my face which was now devoid of colour, her more experienced colleague took over which was just as well because I subsequently passed out.

I don't know if you have ever passed out, but it's a strange feeling and all I really remember is being moved into a reclining chair which was obviously strategically placed for ijits like me. I apologised profusely but they took it all in their stride and told me they would leave me there to recover.

It was one of those situations where I didn't quite know what to do with myself. How long should I lie there? Should I wait for them to come and tell me to get up? Should I close my eyes and give the impression I was sleeping? Or should I try to make a wise crack to ease my own embarrassment. In the end I decided to just lie there as I was still feeling quite wobbly and after about ten minutes or so, the nurse returned and asked if I would like to try sitting back in my chair. Yes please I would very much like to sit back in the corner and take myself out of the spotlight!

All was going well until another lady arrived accompanied by the same two nurses and the same silver tray. I felt a wave of nausea wash over me again and the nurse looked at me and asked if I was going to be OK. I said yes of course I'd be fine but was feeling more nauseous and very clammy. I kept concentrating on my breathing and kept my eyes averted from what was happening but in the end I had to say 'I'm sorry, I think I'm going to faint again.' Once again they put me back into the recliner chair and this time, left me there until I was called for my procedure. The older male nurse who came to collect me had obviously been prepped that I was a ijit and took a firm hold of my arm and made jokes about sinkages.

I don't remember much about the actual procedure as the sedation did its job marvelously, all I remember is the much needed cup of tea and biscuit I was given afterwards and not much else until the next morning when I was back to normal and was able to regale my friends and family of my tale of shame.

If only I'd thought it through. If only I could explain to Mr Bee that nothing is going to hurt him tomorrow and it's actually going to help him. They say ignorance is bliss, but I'm not so sure. What say you?