I'm easily amused. The motorised hospital beds could raise my upper body and/or lift and bend my legs. I watched TV, listened to some music, read a book, stared at the ceiling, and helped the nurses to make last-minute checks. Plenty of opportunity to re-adjust the bed for any given challenge.
The orderly arrived bang-on time, and pulled my bed headfirst through brightly-lit corridors and a big steel elevator down into the windowless bowels of the hospital. My heartbeat increased. Moniek and Ilse were with me but, to be honest, my thoughts were elsewhere.
My wristband was read and I was interviewed to double-triple-quadruple-check that I would get the operation I actually needed. I met the surgery team one by one in the holding area.
On the way into theatre, I was greeted by Dr Jimmy's receptionist who, as it turns out, is also some kind of medical professional. She cheerfully showed me the prosthetic 'bionic' bollock that would replace my manky one. She actually had two on stand-by, 1 medium, 1 large (but I think she was just trying to make me feel better), dependent on what they would find.
The anaesthetist, Dr Boey, probably moonlights as a hypnotist. I went out like a light.