Well we’ve completed our main environment rearrangement in a moderate flurry of re thought out storage, freecycling and local recycling where possible. I’ll be working my way through clearing various bits and pieces over the coming weeks including bookcrossing some books and donating others to the library.
The Doctor Will See You Now
I’ve finally got my follow up post operative appointment albeit for mid way through March so it looks another 120 mile round trip is on the cards.
It looks like we might be loosing our local allotment to house building. Again. Don’t councils have a duty to retain a certain amount of land for allotments(we don’t have a garden ourselves). Houses have got to be built but there’s plenty of brown field sites that can be utilised but they keep getting gobbled up by identikit business and retail parks. Can’t we build the latter vertically and leave the horizontal to housing?
That’s The wonder Of…
Our local Woolworths is to close as things begin to look increasingly dire for the chain in general.Another old name to bite the dust? Will we miss them? In Australia they only sold food.
I’ve decided to catch up on some of Oliver James books from the library whilst I wait for his latest to join the stock. I’m starting with Affluenza which has a glowing recommendation from Will Self on the cover so should cheer me up no end.
I seem to be at the first marker of my recovery period following my ‘brain transplant’ shortly before Xmas. Most of the pain has now subsided save from the odd momentary stab, the stitching dissolved, and I’ve stopped spontaneously bleeding all over the house (never a good look).
Follow Up Not
I came away from a hospital bed with a worrying lack of advice as to how to tend my wounds and what possible signs I should look out for if anything was amiss. I should be due for a follow up appointment to come through soon so we’ll see if that materialises or whether ‘out of sight, out of mind’ is the policy that saves the NHS the most money.
The Good The Bad And The Ugly
It’s been a positive experience though like most things in life it happened at the most inconvenient time. So far the only side effects are that my moodiness increased for a while there (OK no change there) and that my taste buds and metabolism seem to have changed. I don’t get the kick out of some of the foods I used to and my house dust allergy has gone through the roof so most of the time I probably look like I’ve just been having a good cry with my large attractive red raw streaming eyes so I’ll probably need to pop the old piriton out of season again to stop me just permanently scratching my eyes out (and those of anyone else who happens to be passing). Maybe they’ve got nothing to do with the operation but I’m right off a good cuppa tea and that’s just not right.
Coming round after the operation took me some time.The op started around 8:15 am (I was bumped from 3rd on the list after the previous two showed pre-med anomalies and there weren’t even any free beds at that stage) and I woke up around 6pm albeit with only a tenuous grip on reality. The next few days were very painful and I was pinned to a bed with blood drains, limb weights (not fun), catheter (you could get used to that kind of convenience) and a fluid drip and oxygen mask (does oxygen smell or was I inhaling disinfectant fumes on the mask?).
By day three I was conscious enough to slur a few words to various nursing staff but mostly I was just taking the morphine shots, drinking water and sleeping. In the evening of day three a nurse came in and asked if I wanted the television on (I had a telly in my room which I felt guilty about but was in no position to turn it on but at least it wasn’t a patientline rip off).
Mind Your Language
Before I could say no thanks a channel had been selected and the set was blaring out (what is it with side mounted speakers they are a nightmare for us hard of hearing types).Almost as soon as the nurse had left the room I realised that the programme she’d selected might not be the most appropriate choice considering the audio content that would leak out onto the ward. It was Gordon Ramsay’s Kitchen Nightmares.
Expletives spilled out of the set as I lay half bemused and keenly worried about the stream of F-words blaring out.
When IS A Candle Not A Candle?
Television looked doubly inane when watched from a hospital bed and adverts doubly so. This advert for a candle looks unbelievably kitsch and inane even out of the hospital confine. I thought adverts like this stopped in the 70′s. Makes me smile though.
Random post__Blogs I Read__
I’m finally back in the land of the unliving following yesterday’s ‘will they-won’t they’ eventual release from my time in hospital. Thanks to those who left messages of support and who have continued to contribute to past and scheduled blog posts that went up whilst I was confined to a hospital bed.
It’s going to take a while to recover fully and I will have to arrange myself a slightly more horizontal friendly setup for future blog posting (hey, it’s cathartic and part of the recovery process) for a while but despite the surgery, the copious drugs regime, the pain killers (never thought I’d be happy to have a shot of morphine quite so much) ,the good but questionable dietary benefits of hospital food (“want some more cake?”) and the elderly woman on my ward with sudden onset dementia who kept repeatedly invading my room in a confused state thinking it was hers (not fun when you’re immobile and goes on all night) it’s been a positive experience (not least the NHS tea drinking schedule which for me mostly went like this - sleep-tea-sleep-tea – and repeat. No really, the first cuppa of the day was 6:30am with the last available at 10:30 pm).
My thanks to all who have supported me through this experience and especially the people who work long hours in the NHS.
Speak again soon. Best wishes to all.
The last time I was in hospital was in the early 90′s for an operation to help my meniere’s. At that time my meniere’s attacks has grown to an average of three a week with each loss of balance and nausea attack lasting on average 2-3 hours at a time. I’ve written before about a few of the oddest places I ended up on the floor.
The Trouble With Bill Wyman
My memory of my stay is quite intact though of course I remember nothing of the operation save from being wheeled down to the operating theatre (the lunchtime edition of neighbours was on the ward telly) itself and having to wait outside as the previous op had not cleared. I hadn’t gone under from the anaesthetic yet and the orderly had engaged me in an argument about Bill Wyman who at that time was notorious for his partnership with the then very young Mandy Smith (wasn’t she only 13 when they first went out?). I think the argument picking was part of getting under and I just remember starting the sentence “The trouble with Bill Wyman is he wants to…”.
In Between The Soaps
In my mind it feels like I was wheeled into the theatre and trundled straight out the other side. In reality a 5 hour operation took place and I returned drowsily to my bed as the tea time edition of neighbours was playing on the ward telly again which increased the surreal feeling that no operation had taken place. For those of a squeamish disposition, including myself, skip this description of the operation itself.
Sordid details Following…
Meniere’s is thought be be caused by an excess of a liquid produced in a sac in the inner ear. One solution to reducing the severity of attacks for the meniere’s sufferer is to puncture this over inflated sack of fluid to allow it to decompress. hence this operation is often referred to as meniere’s decompression (careful now I’m sounding dangerously knowledgeable). The operation involved the the leverage of one ear through an incision behind the ear and a delicate delving into the sensitive inner ear that gets close to the brain ensues. Once the op is completed the ear is put back in place and the large incision is sewn up.
My head was bandaged up and in an oversight was done in such a way that I couldn’t completely close my eyelids during unconsciousness and sleep. I was then placed by a partially open window. The air blew across my face all night.
In the early hours I realised that my eyebrows had been taped up too high and fiddled around to allow my eyelids to close completely but by then conjunctivitis had occurred. In the morning my surgeon and his trainees came around and he took one look at my completely bloodshot eyes and pronounced loudly “Ye gods” which bucked me up no end that my appearance sparked such a reaction. I remember the screwed up faces of the trainee doctors around him looking at the wreck that was my bonce (head).
I didn’t get much sleep that week. I was in the ear nose and throat ward (ENT) with a person in the next bed who had lost their jaw due to cancer on and was attached to all kinds of constantly beeping and breathing aid equipment which would periodically trip a quite heart stopping alarm and flurry of nursing emergency action whilst an alarming number of throat and mouth cancer patients wandered the ward which was filled with the sound of tracheotomies affected voices. This was a mixed ward and yes I did see one man in the rest room attempting to smoke via the hole in his neck with cigarettes that his wife, for heavens sake, had smuggled in. You can’t help some people.
I was in hospital for around 6 days and really was released way too early. Much like this time (I’m in hospital as you read this and I’ve used the wordpress’ timed posting facility) nobody could visit me in hospital due to various impracticalities (it didn’t bother me then and won’t now.) and I had to make my way home alone via public transport and the same will apply this time around. I had spent a week with my head bandaged in a kind of toilet roll tube affair with my then quite short hair poking out the top (I was so butch back then). When it was removed my hair had moulded into almost a replica of Bart Simpsons cartoon hair and I wasn’t allowed to wash it for some weeks to come so it has all pointing skyward but greasy too (yeah nice look).
Scaring The Natives
I still had bloodshot eyes and occasionally blood would leak from my ear which were still swollen from the operation and sticking out wildly in a look that I thought I’d be stuck with but which later was positioned back to it’s original position. I returned home via the tube which was exactly what I didn’t need. My meniere’s was worse than ever and the operation has stirred up my inner ear and I felt dizzy and nauseous all the time.My ear continued to bleed inside and a return trip several weeks later by train to the hospital for a check-up saw me lying on Thames link station platform unable to stand up with people assuming I was on drugs. I guess I did look the part.
I’m not here right now as I’m in hospital for a while now but please feel free to add your own experiences or comments. I’ll comment personally upon my recovery and return.
Random post__Blogs I Read__Twitter __My Stumbleupon__Facebook
I finally have some news re my impending NHS date with a selection of surgical knives, antibiotics, major surgery and if I’m really (un)lucky, MRSA. It could be next week or it might be the week after, I’m waiting to hear.
I have to travel about 60 miles away which will be fun without a car and no idea of how long I’ll be in or when I get to leave again. This will only be my second time in hospital for anything remotely serious and last time it was closer to home but I still had to make my way home on the tube where I looked enough of a bloody wreck to experience whole tube carriages backing away from me when I clambered on board.Bandaging the majority of my head with blood stains down each side and blood red eyes (due to my eyelids being accidentally taped open by an open windows) did kind of make me look like some Egyptian Mummy come Zombie.
I can’t say I’m looking forward to the experience but I’ve got to believe that it’ll be for the greater good despite the risks, short term pain (lots of it) and temporary disablement.
So either way it looks like I’ll be offline for a bit soon. I have a handful of posts that will be timed to go up during the time I’m in hospital and maybe, if I’m compus mentis I’ll send the odd update from my phone to twitter (though I wouldn’t bank on that outside of “Yep that hurt” or “what’s my name?”).