Monthly Archives: June 2024

Things Get Worse Before they get Better

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I apologise if I sometimes become guarded in my medical descriptions, but I’m trying to walk the line between humour, good taste and the provision of too much information. For the purposes of this post I will merely tell you that the cheery, though thoughtful tone did not endure. It gradually became clear that all was not well and I was close to being in the same state as I was six months ago.  Including the feeling of panic. For several hours I fell into deep depression, then I began to plan what I must do in the morning.

But first, there was one thing I could do for myself before throwing myself on the mercy of the NHS. They had sent me home with a box of catheters and I have experience of rodding out the household drains. These two things, plus a fair helping of desperation, provided me with an answer. To say more would be to cross a boundary that does not need crossing.

However, I sit here a happier and a calmer man. And emptier.

The Lake at Clumber Park

Everything that needs to flow freely is doing so (too freely in fact, as I was up almost hourly during the night), the sun is shining, the birds are singing and I am facing the future with what will probably be revealed to be unrealistic optimism.

I am now going to spend a few moments reflecting on the advantages of catheters and the six hours uninterrupted sleep provided by use of a night bag. It comes to something when you view a time of intrusive plastic pipes as being “the good old days”. I did briefly consider a bit of DIY, as the lure of six hours uninterrupted sleep is hard to resist.

However, Julia has banned me from browsing eBay. She was alerted to my searching activities when I called her across to see a lovely secondhand leather overnight bag. Having seen some of the other results, she has put her foot down and told me I must put up with a lifetime of broken sleep.

More photos of water today.

Reflections

Mixed Blessings

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I am out of hospital and it only stung a little bit.

Unfortunately, experience shows that this is only a temporary fix so my release from hospital, whilst being a cause of short-term happiness, is also a cause of long term gloom. It’s also a matter of sorrow that just as I get my pipework (of the plastic kind) sorted so I can walk and drive, they remove it. Tonight I expect I will also be returned to my previous regimen of sleeping for no more than two hours at a time.

Wren

My two companions today were very entertaining (having done a variety of jobs) and very uplifting (having survived serious spinal surgery in one case, and a heart bypass and colon cancer on the other). However, as I looked at them and chatted. I couldn’t escape the inevitable question – is this now my life?

One good thing that did happen was that I arrived at hospital with enough time to find a good parking space and visit phlebotomy before my Urology appointment. Unfortunately I am now making my third attempt at getting through to the GP to cancel my blood test tomorrow, so any time saved by not going tomorrow is being eaten up by listening to tinny music and condescending messages.

Ha!

I just cancelled my appointment, and apologised, but when I looked at my phone as I disconnected I see that they already cancelled the appointment two hours ago “due to unforeseen circumstances”.

Whalebone Arch – Whitby

So they let me apologise for cancelling an appointment that no longer existed.

And note that when I miss a test for the Warfarin, they always give me a sermon about how vital it is that I keep my appointments as failure to do so can result in heart attacks, strokes and death. However, when it doesn’t suit them they seem quite prepared to kill me.

Could it be, I wonder, that they are exaggerating the dangers of missing a test?

Everybody loves a Puffin – apart from the EU

Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow

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Dog Rose

Tomorrow I must present myself at hospital at 8.30 and, as I could be there some time, I must take spare clothes, my medication, food and “something to do.” At one time, I’m sure they used to mention reading material, It is a sign of changing technology that we now have more to do than read or do paper-based puzzles, though I can’t help feeling that a dumbing down process has taken place. Last time I was in I was actually asked by one of the staff what I did for a living. They had watched me read for several hours and developed a theory that I was a professor.

Of course, I wasn’t such a slippered pantaloon in those days. Now, grey and lined, I am presumably lost amongst the rest of the faded grey retirees who populate the waiting areas of the Urology Department.

Foxgloves and bee

A usual, my head is full of travel arrangements. Do I use a taxi or take the car, where will I park? The process of removing the catheter will sting a bit and involve embarrassment a strange women do things around my nether regions, but that is of less concern. Once you have had one strange woman approach your genitalia with rubber gloves and a determined expression, you lose the capacity to worry about discomfort and embarrassment.

I’m going to have a go at doubling up – arrive early, get a blood test then go to Urology. That way I can cancel Thursday’s blood test and have the day to myself.

Tomorrow is Julia’s day off, and I will miss it, due to sitting in hospital. The list of necessities is quite worrying. How much food? How many clothes? What are they planning that will involve changing my clothes? How much will they charge me for parking? It probably won’t be much less than a taxi, but the car is more convenient. I can get in and out of my car quite easily but some of the small Japanese things they send from the taxi firm can be a bit tricky.

Ah well, bed now and no more point in worrying.

Nasturtiums. Or peppery salad leaves. It all depends on your point of view.

I’ll leave you with a bit of Shakespeare. Word for word it is probably more densely packed with quotes than any other passage in the English language. Even more than the band of brothers speech in Henry V. This one also contains the title I would use if I were starting a new blog – A Tale Told by an Idiot. Having said that, if I were to write an autobiography I’d use a quote from henry V as the basis of the title – remembered with Advantage. I may have to write a book or two just to use the ides I have for titles.

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

Goldfinch

Photos are from June 2017, which include photos from my last stay in hospital (I thought I’d give them a miss but just include cheerful ones. It amazes me how much we got around in 2017. Now we don’t go anywhere to take photographs. This must change.

Several Blank Days

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I thought I was becoming more lively, I even said as much in my last post, but then everything seemed to go very flat, as if I had a slow puncture. Where it was a reaction to the operation (if you can call such a minor procedure an “operation” or whether it was a loss of energy resulting from sitting round doing nothing, I’m not sure. The real test is that I did the washing up after breakfast, which is the first thing I’ve done since making soup last week.

Anyway, today as I sat and watched people root through barns full of junk, I decided that the washing up needed doing. How boring must a TV programme be before the washing up seems preferable? What sort of life do I lead where washing a few plates stands out as one of the notable events of the last week?

Allium at Whisby

I haven’t even kept up with my writing. Nothing submitted in May, no more Facebook posts for the Numismatic Society (I had been intending to edit the Admiral Vernon post to make it more suitable but it’s heavy going) and no progress on the talk for September. It really has been a poor time for doing things. Still, it’s just laziness, procrastination or recovery (it’s hard to tell where one ends and another begins) and it’s not fatal. I can start working again today. In fact, let’s be positive. I will start work again today.

The last few weeks haven’t been a real measure of retirement, as hospital has taken a chunk of my time, but I do hope I can do better in the next few months.

But first I will get then kettle on. Julia has just rung to say she’s on the way home and that takes precedence.

Cranesbill Geranium