The hospital call
Now, the point of this blog is to be about my 50th year, a fairly humourous look at my, to be honest.. not perfect circumstances and to highlight my preoccupation with the concept of 'Sod's Law'... and now it's starting off with a cancer scare and a lot of medical stuff, THIS IS NOT A CANCER BLOG... but of course I could say Sod's Law is that it might be.. but that might be stretching things a bit TOO much.
As per the hospitals instructions, from midnight on Wednesday I had starved and if the drinking equivalent is thirsted, then I had thirsted myself from that time as well. I hadn't known whether I would be kept in hospital on Wednesday so hadn't made any plans. . but I did venture out... a low key visit to a gig in Hoxton to which I had a cursory professional involvement. What this did involve was seeing folk/mediaeval/rock band Circulus .. what with all the thirsting/starving and driving... I only stayed for a few tunes.. but there's certainly a rock element to their folk and was quite interesting - a formidable challenge though having to follow the might Mistys Big Adventure onto a stage.
So venture home and try to distract myself with that nights showing of The Apprentice to which I'm partial.. Alan Sugar is a real star on TV.. though I do have to hold reservations about his current products before I can support him totally... especially being a Spurs fan... we don't forget. When it comes to the "you're fired bit".. rather than opting for the obvious faliure of the programmes premise.. female team leader Jo.. he chops the tall lawer lady .. on account of her. .. well.. being a lawyer.. not fair? .. .yep.. that sometimes is life.
The first call from the hospital comes @ around 9.00am. .. it's the kindly administator boy I heard from yesterday.. and at the moment there isn't a bed but there well could be. Sounds to me that they are trying to push some other half recovered patient out into the street.
Then around 11.ooam I get the call .. it's game on .. and I'm told to be at Barts as soon as I can. My lady is showing particular devotion today and as it is her day off agrees to come to the hospital with me... did I say agree? .. didn't ask .. but there is no way she wasn't going to come.. and although I feigned indifference.. was pleased she did.
It's been a good couple of days for Barts Hospital not just because they seduced me back in there but because yesterday Health Secretary Patricia Hewitt today gave the go-ahead for a Multi-million pound investement to redevelop Barts and the Royal London hospitals as the largest ever hospital private PFI project for a scheme which includes state-of-the-art cancer and cardiac facilities, and when complete will include up to 1,248 beds on two sites. Can't argue with that.
Troops on the ground services at Barts at the moment though are on a slightly more basic level.
I am told that I must go to the Henry Butlin ward and can't help think it's some cruel joke that I'm off to Butlin's.. in fact, the ward isn't the result of philanphropy based on fortunes made from holiday camps (should have remembered.. that was Billy) , in fact Sir Henry Butlin was surgeon to Barts from 1892 to 1902 and became one of the pioneers of medical surgery for cancers.
I announce my arrival and am told that there are no beds in the male ward so I have to go to one on the female side. I am given some paper knickers... and some tights that do the same thing you have to protect yourself against on long haul flights... I am told that the surgeon is waiting but that the anethatist is still with a previous patient... don't feel too good in my tights knickers and operation smock.. looks like I am not going to get to wear the new jim jams after all.
Panic a bit when a serious surgeon comes in and reels out the list of worse possible case scenarios.. won't bother you with the gruesome details.. but one centred around something they were going to put in my throat to help the biopsy, investigation but which might result in infection in which case they would intend to insert pipes into each side of my rib cage to "drain the fluid".... not pleased at all about the idea of that and start to discuss with my lady.. bless her.. she's been by my side through the whole day .. what songs I wanted at my funeral.. this is something I have thought about all in the run up to this 50th year and suddenly when a prospect is flashed through my consciousness like today .. I can't bloody remember... apart from Abide With Me should be one of the hymns and that the congregation (may be single numbers .. don't know) should be instructed to sing it either as a hymn or as Liverpool football supporters favourite song.. whatever.. I want everyone to sing...
I am wheeled away to the theatre.... I am in the loading dock, waiting to be asleep and I can here my surgeon berating his team.. "I have to be in the centre of London in 12 minutes for an interview on Radio 4" presumably this is to commentate positively on the new fortunes of Barts.. myself, I feel like crying out.. "yes, I'm really pleased for you all.. Barts has great sentimental meaning for me too.. but please when you get me in their ... don't rush your prodding about ..because I don't want drainage pipes in my ribs!"
... there's nothing else.. an hour and a half later I awake.. and am being pushed through the corridors back to the ward.... I am told that I have to come back in two weeks for the results and that they will probably let me out tonight unless I show any bad signs....
My mouth is sore but they give me a bunch of pain killers... I am offered food.. i have the easy stuff . .. bowl of soup and bowl of custard... served in stainless steel metal cutlery... reminds me of an article I read this morning about prison food.... bit drowsy with the anesthetics.. as I am still today... I've got to give a big shout out to the lady.. she's been with me the whole time... it's covered a few of the cracks in our relationship .. temporarily perhaps... but it's been good for that... hopefully won't be continuing this story until the results in a couple of weeks.. keep u posted ;-)
As per the hospitals instructions, from midnight on Wednesday I had starved and if the drinking equivalent is thirsted, then I had thirsted myself from that time as well. I hadn't known whether I would be kept in hospital on Wednesday so hadn't made any plans. . but I did venture out... a low key visit to a gig in Hoxton to which I had a cursory professional involvement. What this did involve was seeing folk/mediaeval/rock band Circulus .. what with all the thirsting/starving and driving... I only stayed for a few tunes.. but there's certainly a rock element to their folk and was quite interesting - a formidable challenge though having to follow the might Mistys Big Adventure onto a stage.
So venture home and try to distract myself with that nights showing of The Apprentice to which I'm partial.. Alan Sugar is a real star on TV.. though I do have to hold reservations about his current products before I can support him totally... especially being a Spurs fan... we don't forget. When it comes to the "you're fired bit".. rather than opting for the obvious faliure of the programmes premise.. female team leader Jo.. he chops the tall lawer lady .. on account of her. .. well.. being a lawyer.. not fair? .. .yep.. that sometimes is life.
The first call from the hospital comes @ around 9.00am. .. it's the kindly administator boy I heard from yesterday.. and at the moment there isn't a bed but there well could be. Sounds to me that they are trying to push some other half recovered patient out into the street.
Then around 11.ooam I get the call .. it's game on .. and I'm told to be at Barts as soon as I can. My lady is showing particular devotion today and as it is her day off agrees to come to the hospital with me... did I say agree? .. didn't ask .. but there is no way she wasn't going to come.. and although I feigned indifference.. was pleased she did.
It's been a good couple of days for Barts Hospital not just because they seduced me back in there but because yesterday Health Secretary Patricia Hewitt today gave the go-ahead for a Multi-million pound investement to redevelop Barts and the Royal London hospitals as the largest ever hospital private PFI project for a scheme which includes state-of-the-art cancer and cardiac facilities, and when complete will include up to 1,248 beds on two sites. Can't argue with that.
Troops on the ground services at Barts at the moment though are on a slightly more basic level.
I am told that I must go to the Henry Butlin ward and can't help think it's some cruel joke that I'm off to Butlin's.. in fact, the ward isn't the result of philanphropy based on fortunes made from holiday camps (should have remembered.. that was Billy) , in fact Sir Henry Butlin was surgeon to Barts from 1892 to 1902 and became one of the pioneers of medical surgery for cancers.
I announce my arrival and am told that there are no beds in the male ward so I have to go to one on the female side. I am given some paper knickers... and some tights that do the same thing you have to protect yourself against on long haul flights... I am told that the surgeon is waiting but that the anethatist is still with a previous patient... don't feel too good in my tights knickers and operation smock.. looks like I am not going to get to wear the new jim jams after all.
Panic a bit when a serious surgeon comes in and reels out the list of worse possible case scenarios.. won't bother you with the gruesome details.. but one centred around something they were going to put in my throat to help the biopsy, investigation but which might result in infection in which case they would intend to insert pipes into each side of my rib cage to "drain the fluid".... not pleased at all about the idea of that and start to discuss with my lady.. bless her.. she's been by my side through the whole day .. what songs I wanted at my funeral.. this is something I have thought about all in the run up to this 50th year and suddenly when a prospect is flashed through my consciousness like today .. I can't bloody remember... apart from Abide With Me should be one of the hymns and that the congregation (may be single numbers .. don't know) should be instructed to sing it either as a hymn or as Liverpool football supporters favourite song.. whatever.. I want everyone to sing...
I am wheeled away to the theatre.... I am in the loading dock, waiting to be asleep and I can here my surgeon berating his team.. "I have to be in the centre of London in 12 minutes for an interview on Radio 4" presumably this is to commentate positively on the new fortunes of Barts.. myself, I feel like crying out.. "yes, I'm really pleased for you all.. Barts has great sentimental meaning for me too.. but please when you get me in their ... don't rush your prodding about ..because I don't want drainage pipes in my ribs!"
... there's nothing else.. an hour and a half later I awake.. and am being pushed through the corridors back to the ward.... I am told that I have to come back in two weeks for the results and that they will probably let me out tonight unless I show any bad signs....
My mouth is sore but they give me a bunch of pain killers... I am offered food.. i have the easy stuff . .. bowl of soup and bowl of custard... served in stainless steel metal cutlery... reminds me of an article I read this morning about prison food.... bit drowsy with the anesthetics.. as I am still today... I've got to give a big shout out to the lady.. she's been with me the whole time... it's covered a few of the cracks in our relationship .. temporarily perhaps... but it's been good for that... hopefully won't be continuing this story until the results in a couple of weeks.. keep u posted ;-)
posted by Hackney Man at 3:47 AM
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