Nine and a Half Weeks
February 13th 2009 07:16
Haven’t been doing much blogging over the last week. Just haven’t felt like it. It’s the sort of thing that happens every so often. You just feel like you’ve had enough for a while.
Apart from that nothing much has been happening on the prostate front, which is a good thing, in one sense. It’s been a week without too much irritation, thank goodness – and no urinary tract infections. Long may this last!
I finally gave in and rang the Urology Dept yesterday, although I’d got to the point of thinking it wasn’t worth bothering and it would be better just to carry on doing what my wife had recommended: live as though this is how things are going to be, at least for the next month or so.
That piece of advice has been worth acting upon. It takes some of the pressure off the emotional side of things at least, and you go round acting as though it was normal to get up in the morning attached to something, and dragging it around with you during the day.
I keep thinking all this must be making me more sympathetic to other people with disabilities of some sort or other (you’ll note I’m including what I’ve got as a disability, even though officially it ain’t!). And while I’m noticing a lot more people who are struggling along with some sort of difficulty, I’m not sure that I’m actually feeling at one with them.
Maybe I’m even more un-compassionate than I think. Totally self-centred. Only see them as reflections of myself. This could well be, and while I don’t find it at all commendable, it seems to be how it is. I’ve worked on being more compassionate for years, but plainly I’m making very slow progress.
It’s a bit like a small business opportunity – I could take it up, but do I really have the heart for it? (Okay, if that seems a bit random, it probably was.)
Anyway, to get back to what the Urology Dept said, which is what I started out to tell you several paragraphs back.
I’m ‘moving up the list’. Of course, it depends where on the list I actually am.
‘We don’t only do prostates, you know.’ Okay, so all the other urological problems are also on the list.
‘The Urology Dept is short of staff at the moment. One of the Urologists is sick.’ Yup, I already knew that – in fact, I believe he’s very sick. And any hope I had that they might be sending some more of the overspill of Dunedin patients down to Invercargill was dashed. That was a one-off. And it was for ‘men who’d been waiting for a long time.’ I knew that already too. Us newcomers shouldn’t get so uppity.
So how long is ‘urgent’? ‘Up to two or three months after you’ve been put on the list.’ Oh, whoopee – that doesn’t sound very ‘urgent’ to me. I saw the Urologist on the 13th January. Today is the 13th February, which means I could easily have another month or two (!) to go. Crikey.
I told her I’ve had infections galore, and antibiotics till they’re coming out my ears, and that I’ve had to go to A&E again. To no avail. All that dribbled by, like water trickling down a gutter. I imagine she’s heard it from every other mother’s son at some point. And goes home at night thinking it’s time she got another job that doesn’t involve saying the same thing over and over.
I have now had this catheter in for nine and a half weeks. Ten on Tuesday. Joy.
I keep thinking I should add a picture of a catheter to make this a more visual post, but after checking out a number of images from Google, I decided I had enough dealing with the reality without adding pictures.
Apart from that nothing much has been happening on the prostate front, which is a good thing, in one sense. It’s been a week without too much irritation, thank goodness – and no urinary tract infections. Long may this last!
I finally gave in and rang the Urology Dept yesterday, although I’d got to the point of thinking it wasn’t worth bothering and it would be better just to carry on doing what my wife had recommended: live as though this is how things are going to be, at least for the next month or so.
That piece of advice has been worth acting upon. It takes some of the pressure off the emotional side of things at least, and you go round acting as though it was normal to get up in the morning attached to something, and dragging it around with you during the day.
I keep thinking all this must be making me more sympathetic to other people with disabilities of some sort or other (you’ll note I’m including what I’ve got as a disability, even though officially it ain’t!). And while I’m noticing a lot more people who are struggling along with some sort of difficulty, I’m not sure that I’m actually feeling at one with them.
Maybe I’m even more un-compassionate than I think. Totally self-centred. Only see them as reflections of myself. This could well be, and while I don’t find it at all commendable, it seems to be how it is. I’ve worked on being more compassionate for years, but plainly I’m making very slow progress.
It’s a bit like a small business opportunity – I could take it up, but do I really have the heart for it? (Okay, if that seems a bit random, it probably was.)
Anyway, to get back to what the Urology Dept said, which is what I started out to tell you several paragraphs back.
I’m ‘moving up the list’. Of course, it depends where on the list I actually am.
‘We don’t only do prostates, you know.’ Okay, so all the other urological problems are also on the list.
‘The Urology Dept is short of staff at the moment. One of the Urologists is sick.’ Yup, I already knew that – in fact, I believe he’s very sick. And any hope I had that they might be sending some more of the overspill of Dunedin patients down to Invercargill was dashed. That was a one-off. And it was for ‘men who’d been waiting for a long time.’ I knew that already too. Us newcomers shouldn’t get so uppity.
So how long is ‘urgent’? ‘Up to two or three months after you’ve been put on the list.’ Oh, whoopee – that doesn’t sound very ‘urgent’ to me. I saw the Urologist on the 13th January. Today is the 13th February, which means I could easily have another month or two (!) to go. Crikey.
I told her I’ve had infections galore, and antibiotics till they’re coming out my ears, and that I’ve had to go to A&E again. To no avail. All that dribbled by, like water trickling down a gutter. I imagine she’s heard it from every other mother’s son at some point. And goes home at night thinking it’s time she got another job that doesn’t involve saying the same thing over and over.
I have now had this catheter in for nine and a half weeks. Ten on Tuesday. Joy.
I keep thinking I should add a picture of a catheter to make this a more visual post, but after checking out a number of images from Google, I decided I had enough dealing with the reality without adding pictures.
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