I left work early today, and before I went home I walked along to the Children’s Ward, where my little 4 year old grandson Charlie was awaiting a tonsillectomy.  I thought he’d be miserable at being starved all day as he loves his food, but he was his usual happy self.  He ran up to me and gave me a cuddle, and then continued playing with a mountain of toys that he’d never seen before.

I watched him, remembered my own sons’ various childhood surgeries, and realised that little children have it best when it comes to operations.  They live in the present, and have no knowledge of what’s going to happen to them.  They also have no self-pity, and so they don’t sit around feeling miserable and sorry for themselves.  They also don’t know how to catastrophise.  I thought back to how worried I was before my own operations, and realised that a little knowledge can be a dangerous thing!

The porter came to take Charlie to Theatre, who was busy looking at all the toys depicted on his tiny gown, and playing with a toy racing car that I’d bought him.  They wheeled him along on the bed to Theatre, and my daughter-in-law went in to the anaesthetic room with him.  I gave Charlie a kiss, and told him not to lose the car.  He was still smiling as the operating theatre doors closed.

I’m going back in tonight to find out how he got on.  When I got home there was a text from my son to say that Charlie was now back on the ward and still smiling.  I bet the poor little sod doesn’t know what on earth is going on today.