Off to the Op
February 17th 2009 06:40
Ten weeks today with a catheter, and yesterday another infection, nasty enough to just about disable me at times. Off to the doctor again, and more antibiotics. Life is so rich!
But then, a phone call at work. From the hospital. There’s been a cancellation and we’d like you to come in for a pre-admission. Operation next Monday!
Too shocked yesterday to really take it in, but today I’m feeling better not only because of the antibiotics but because I’ve spent four and half hours in the hospital going through all the rigmarole involved in being pre-admitted.
Four and half hours is about three times longer, at least, than the op will take, but I felt very laid back about it all and just let the time roll by, doing Sudokus (one correctly and one messily), some crosswords and so on. People kept interrupting my Sudoku-solving to ask me questions or tell me things, but otherwise it was okay.
First thing was an ECG, then an X-ray, neither of which was an issue, and neither of which took any great time. Back up to 4B and my own little sunny room, with a desk that’s seen better days and a bed and a couple of chairs. And some magazines. And my own private toilet.
The first nurse came and did the usual things: blood pressure, temperature, pulse etc. Nice and chatty and no problems. Everything working according to Hoyle.
The house surgeon, a young lady who seemed to be a Muslim by her dress, but who spoke everyday NZ English, came and asked a lot of questions about my general state of health.
A second nurse came later and went through a list of questions, many of which were the same as those asked by the house surgeon. This was no doubt to check that I hadn’t been telling any lies first time around! Again nice and chatty.
The registrar eventually came and talked to me. He turned out to be the bloke who’d done the biopsy. A very pleasant and friendly fellow, even when I told him that I’d been worse since the biopsy than I was before – by a long way. I said I’d told the guy who’d seen me a while back that I hadn’t really wanted a biopsy; look what it left me with. I wasn’t angry, just joking him along a bit, and he coped.
But he also went through the list of awful things that can happen to people having work done on their prostates – and informed me that they take most of the inside of it away, not just a layer. Leaves just a kind of rim. Gulp.
The awful things that can happen I won’t enumerate here. I’d sooner that they stayed as awful things that probably won’t happen. The registrar talked in terms of 5% this and ‘very few’ that. Having become one of those who have side-effects of the biopsy, I don’t really want to become one of those who has side-effects of the prostatectomy!
And then they told me I might as well go and get some lunch as the anaesthetist wouldn’t be able to get there for an hour or so. So I went and had lunch.
Came back and eventually he arrived. Checked out more things and made sure my answers were still the same as they’d been with the other two questioners. Checked my heart, and said, There’s a bit of a murmur there.
I already knew this – my doctor had discovered it some time ago and felt it wasn’t life-threatening, in part because many people have this kind of a skipping of the beat every so often.
Anyway the anaesthetist checked it out with the anaesthetist who’ll actually be doing the job on Monday and he wasn’t worried, particularly as the guy I was talking to told him that I was able to climb flights of stairs without keeling over and that I did a lot of walking without breathlessness (normally, when I ain’t carrying this piece of apparatus). So it looks like I’ll be able to sleep through the procedure, which seems far preferable to me to staying awake and knowing their doing it.
Finally, on the way out of the hospital, with my appointment for next Monday afternoon in my hot little hand, I visited the phlebotomists for the drawing off of a little bit of my blood. Why I couldn’t have gone and seen them in one of the many minutes when I wasn’t answering questions I’m not sure.
Anyway, the woman took off a couple of vials and put plaster over the hole. And then discovered that she was supposed to have taken three samples. So I now have two patches, one on each arm.
And so to work.
Photo by beob8er - not quite like my room, but similar.
.
But then, a phone call at work. From the hospital. There’s been a cancellation and we’d like you to come in for a pre-admission. Operation next Monday!
Too shocked yesterday to really take it in, but today I’m feeling better not only because of the antibiotics but because I’ve spent four and half hours in the hospital going through all the rigmarole involved in being pre-admitted.
Four and half hours is about three times longer, at least, than the op will take, but I felt very laid back about it all and just let the time roll by, doing Sudokus (one correctly and one messily), some crosswords and so on. People kept interrupting my Sudoku-solving to ask me questions or tell me things, but otherwise it was okay.
First thing was an ECG, then an X-ray, neither of which was an issue, and neither of which took any great time. Back up to 4B and my own little sunny room, with a desk that’s seen better days and a bed and a couple of chairs. And some magazines. And my own private toilet.
The first nurse came and did the usual things: blood pressure, temperature, pulse etc. Nice and chatty and no problems. Everything working according to Hoyle.
The house surgeon, a young lady who seemed to be a Muslim by her dress, but who spoke everyday NZ English, came and asked a lot of questions about my general state of health.
A second nurse came later and went through a list of questions, many of which were the same as those asked by the house surgeon. This was no doubt to check that I hadn’t been telling any lies first time around! Again nice and chatty.
The registrar eventually came and talked to me. He turned out to be the bloke who’d done the biopsy. A very pleasant and friendly fellow, even when I told him that I’d been worse since the biopsy than I was before – by a long way. I said I’d told the guy who’d seen me a while back that I hadn’t really wanted a biopsy; look what it left me with. I wasn’t angry, just joking him along a bit, and he coped.
But he also went through the list of awful things that can happen to people having work done on their prostates – and informed me that they take most of the inside of it away, not just a layer. Leaves just a kind of rim. Gulp.
The awful things that can happen I won’t enumerate here. I’d sooner that they stayed as awful things that probably won’t happen. The registrar talked in terms of 5% this and ‘very few’ that. Having become one of those who have side-effects of the biopsy, I don’t really want to become one of those who has side-effects of the prostatectomy!
And then they told me I might as well go and get some lunch as the anaesthetist wouldn’t be able to get there for an hour or so. So I went and had lunch.
Came back and eventually he arrived. Checked out more things and made sure my answers were still the same as they’d been with the other two questioners. Checked my heart, and said, There’s a bit of a murmur there.
I already knew this – my doctor had discovered it some time ago and felt it wasn’t life-threatening, in part because many people have this kind of a skipping of the beat every so often.
Anyway the anaesthetist checked it out with the anaesthetist who’ll actually be doing the job on Monday and he wasn’t worried, particularly as the guy I was talking to told him that I was able to climb flights of stairs without keeling over and that I did a lot of walking without breathlessness (normally, when I ain’t carrying this piece of apparatus). So it looks like I’ll be able to sleep through the procedure, which seems far preferable to me to staying awake and knowing their doing it.
Finally, on the way out of the hospital, with my appointment for next Monday afternoon in my hot little hand, I visited the phlebotomists for the drawing off of a little bit of my blood. Why I couldn’t have gone and seen them in one of the many minutes when I wasn’t answering questions I’m not sure.
Anyway, the woman took off a couple of vials and put plaster over the hole. And then discovered that she was supposed to have taken three samples. So I now have two patches, one on each arm.
And so to work.
Photo by beob8er - not quite like my room, but similar.
.
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