Operation postponed

I was all ready, bloody nervous but ready. I'd organised everything at work. I'd got plans in place for home. I did a big shop for the people in the house who would need to eat and I'd packed my bag. (a few times)
I set my alarm and said goodbye to my little girl and father. Then we went on the train and found our way to the right ward. There we sat and I had bloods done, blood pressure, temperature. I spoke with a lovely anaesthetist and managed to sort out my concerns about being sick

I met with one of the surgeons and he very kindly went through all  the risks - I hate that bit but oddly I felt better, less at risk. I got it; he explained it well. He drew an arrow on me  -  the letter R in the right place.

I got into my gown and stockings and had the wrists band on.

Then my husband went to get those that could drink and eat a coffee and we joked that that would be when I was taken down. I kissed him goodbye just in case and off he went. Then 2 surgeons I recognised turned up and we went into the side room.
No HDU bed.

They wanted to talk options. We  could wait (nil by mouth) until the afternoon but everyone would be pissed off, tense. They were pissed off. And so we agreed that it just couldn't happen. The fog perhaps had caused too many staff to be absent, too many new patients, accidents and people who really needed surgery or they would die, they wouldn't last another night without the amazing NHS staff?

I got dressed. We went and got something to eat, I had a cup of tea.

Then I came home.

My prediction came true, I didn't die on the 11th December.