Wizard Drongo
22nd December 2007, 09:00 AM
Thought I'd say hi, I'm back.
Not that many will probably have noticed I went anywhere (I often vanish for upwards a week at a time), but I've been away for the last week, and I thought I'd share my SHIT week with you all! It's a wee story an a half, so if you're not find of a long read, sod off now :)
So, last Saturday night, the missus and I were putting up the festive decorations, as we usually do (which is to say we were bickering and arguing about where the tree should go and why I can't have any more blue led lights) about this time of year when I started to notice a slight pain in my right er... well, let's just say if you wanted to model it, you'd be using the "O" key in lightwave ;)
Thought nothing of it, and went I back to my persuasive discourse on why our lack of blue-leds was detrimental to the ambience of our home.
A couple of hours pass, and the slight pain in my right "groinal-area" shall we say, has gotten considerably worse, and spread into my bladder and kidneys area. Like, worse enough that a few paracetamol and a good half of pear cider were not kicking it. I goes for a lie down, hoping I've just strained something a bit, as you do when you're stretching light-strings around the ceiling balancing on one foot on a window sill.
Around 12pm-ish, 5 hours of pain are getting steadily worse to the point the missus phone's NHS-Direct (for our American brethren this is our health services phone system where you can ring up and ask a nurse daft questions without needing to go oot the house) to ask what she should do. They advise to give me the paracetamol I've already taken twice the recommended dose of, and to pop along to the local out-of-hours health office where a standby-doc will have a swatchie at me around 2am-ish. Meanwhile, I've started rolling around the floor in agony (apparently I started drooling at one point. It was reportedly amusing and disturbing at the same time). By about 01:30, it was apparently obvious to Herself (my beloved missus) that I wasn't gonna be getting into a taxi to get to a clinic, mainly cause they won't take people being sick, which I was, several times from the pain.
So, she toddles off to ring the NHS Direct people again hoping they'll maybe get the standby Doc to come visit us. As soon as they heard the noise I was apparently kicking out in the other room over the phone they said "Don't worry about going to the clinic, we're sending an ambulance". Ambulance arrives, by which time I was delirious with pain (I don't actually remember much here, going on what the Missus has said). They see me and dig out the happy-gas, which I didn't even notice, so bad was the pain. They get me through to A&E (Accident & Emergency, or the ER to yanks) and through to a junior doctor, who promptly gives me a shot of morphine. Doesn't really do much. I was a bit more with it now, having been on the gas for near 20 minutes now. Pain still mind-blowing. He says "Hmmm, that should have killed the pain a bit, here have another". Still no joy. And another. And another. That's four shots of happy-time and it still feels like someone's gutting me from inside. So the junior doctors now a wee bit worried so he sends for a surgical consultant, and gives me some stronger-than-morphine drug straight into the area (rather than into the drip he's got me on) as well an anti-vomit shot to stop me colouring his scrubs anymore. This seems to do the job, I start noticing where I am again, realise I'd come out the house with no shoes on!
Surgical consultant comes down (around 4am-ish), and she was a very pretty blonde lady which didn't help at all when she needed to check things 'down there'. She takes one look at what they've given me, and how it's still hurting (although not nearly so bad, I wasn't even dribbling anymore!!) and sends me up to the ward, upsetting the missus who was still hoping out that it was something daft and I'd be let out in a couple of hours.
Next day (well, really the same day, but about 10am-ish) they send me for a CT scan to find out what it was (pretty-blonde-surgeon was betting on kidney stones, junior-doc on a burst appendix). Tuns out the pretty blonde won her stake, I had a kidney stone.
A poxy 5mm kidney stone that decided to move out of my right kidney in it's inexorable attempt for freedom from my renal system.
The worst pain I have ever had, and it was a 5mm lump of rock!!!
Very un-masculine that, should have at least been a burst organ or something!!!
Having spent the rest of the last week in hospital either bored out of my wits (cause it don't hurt if it's not moving) or getting injections in my arse (cause when it moves it really hurts) on Wednesday they decide that since it's still hurting and it's not 'passed', that it's better out than in, so decide to operate to remove it. Finally got the op yesterday, and discharged today. They couldn't actually find it (apparently this is normal, since the operation involves sticking a tube into me via a *very* delicate part of my anatomy and said tube often pushes the stone back up into the kidney) so instead, I now have a plastic tube coiled around my bladder/kidney so when this stone does move I won't feel it. I'll have to go get it out in about 3 weeks time, but at least I'm not in hospital for Yule and Hogmanay. With all the old guys that are found in a Urology ward. I was the youngest patient in, by at least 4 decades.
Just a couple of things to note in case you're ever in the same boat as me:
1) A man's penis is a very sensitive thing. Having an edoscope, two tubes, a camera and a 'basket' (don't ask) shoved up inside it is VERY unpleasant. Avoid this. If you are unable to avoid it, get a general anaesthetic so you're asleep when it happens, like I did.
2) It's still hurt afterwards. Like hell. I'm not kidding here.
3) They do give you a columbian drug-lord's worth of morphine to help with 2) though.
4) That gives you really weird dreams afterwards, and a feeling that is indescribably unpleasant; like really drunk, but really tired as well, yet strangely unable to sleep.
So, I got home today, finally, and am almost ready to face the festive season, when I realise that I've not done any Christmas shopping to speak of (I usually get mine done the week or to before Xmas, and I was already running behind). Since I'm still a wee bit unsteady today, and tomorrow's Sunday, this means I will be shopping on Christmas Eve, in Glasgow, one of the worlds busiest shopping areas. Yay!
How was your week?
Not that many will probably have noticed I went anywhere (I often vanish for upwards a week at a time), but I've been away for the last week, and I thought I'd share my SHIT week with you all! It's a wee story an a half, so if you're not find of a long read, sod off now :)
So, last Saturday night, the missus and I were putting up the festive decorations, as we usually do (which is to say we were bickering and arguing about where the tree should go and why I can't have any more blue led lights) about this time of year when I started to notice a slight pain in my right er... well, let's just say if you wanted to model it, you'd be using the "O" key in lightwave ;)
Thought nothing of it, and went I back to my persuasive discourse on why our lack of blue-leds was detrimental to the ambience of our home.
A couple of hours pass, and the slight pain in my right "groinal-area" shall we say, has gotten considerably worse, and spread into my bladder and kidneys area. Like, worse enough that a few paracetamol and a good half of pear cider were not kicking it. I goes for a lie down, hoping I've just strained something a bit, as you do when you're stretching light-strings around the ceiling balancing on one foot on a window sill.
Around 12pm-ish, 5 hours of pain are getting steadily worse to the point the missus phone's NHS-Direct (for our American brethren this is our health services phone system where you can ring up and ask a nurse daft questions without needing to go oot the house) to ask what she should do. They advise to give me the paracetamol I've already taken twice the recommended dose of, and to pop along to the local out-of-hours health office where a standby-doc will have a swatchie at me around 2am-ish. Meanwhile, I've started rolling around the floor in agony (apparently I started drooling at one point. It was reportedly amusing and disturbing at the same time). By about 01:30, it was apparently obvious to Herself (my beloved missus) that I wasn't gonna be getting into a taxi to get to a clinic, mainly cause they won't take people being sick, which I was, several times from the pain.
So, she toddles off to ring the NHS Direct people again hoping they'll maybe get the standby Doc to come visit us. As soon as they heard the noise I was apparently kicking out in the other room over the phone they said "Don't worry about going to the clinic, we're sending an ambulance". Ambulance arrives, by which time I was delirious with pain (I don't actually remember much here, going on what the Missus has said). They see me and dig out the happy-gas, which I didn't even notice, so bad was the pain. They get me through to A&E (Accident & Emergency, or the ER to yanks) and through to a junior doctor, who promptly gives me a shot of morphine. Doesn't really do much. I was a bit more with it now, having been on the gas for near 20 minutes now. Pain still mind-blowing. He says "Hmmm, that should have killed the pain a bit, here have another". Still no joy. And another. And another. That's four shots of happy-time and it still feels like someone's gutting me from inside. So the junior doctors now a wee bit worried so he sends for a surgical consultant, and gives me some stronger-than-morphine drug straight into the area (rather than into the drip he's got me on) as well an anti-vomit shot to stop me colouring his scrubs anymore. This seems to do the job, I start noticing where I am again, realise I'd come out the house with no shoes on!
Surgical consultant comes down (around 4am-ish), and she was a very pretty blonde lady which didn't help at all when she needed to check things 'down there'. She takes one look at what they've given me, and how it's still hurting (although not nearly so bad, I wasn't even dribbling anymore!!) and sends me up to the ward, upsetting the missus who was still hoping out that it was something daft and I'd be let out in a couple of hours.
Next day (well, really the same day, but about 10am-ish) they send me for a CT scan to find out what it was (pretty-blonde-surgeon was betting on kidney stones, junior-doc on a burst appendix). Tuns out the pretty blonde won her stake, I had a kidney stone.
A poxy 5mm kidney stone that decided to move out of my right kidney in it's inexorable attempt for freedom from my renal system.
The worst pain I have ever had, and it was a 5mm lump of rock!!!
Very un-masculine that, should have at least been a burst organ or something!!!
Having spent the rest of the last week in hospital either bored out of my wits (cause it don't hurt if it's not moving) or getting injections in my arse (cause when it moves it really hurts) on Wednesday they decide that since it's still hurting and it's not 'passed', that it's better out than in, so decide to operate to remove it. Finally got the op yesterday, and discharged today. They couldn't actually find it (apparently this is normal, since the operation involves sticking a tube into me via a *very* delicate part of my anatomy and said tube often pushes the stone back up into the kidney) so instead, I now have a plastic tube coiled around my bladder/kidney so when this stone does move I won't feel it. I'll have to go get it out in about 3 weeks time, but at least I'm not in hospital for Yule and Hogmanay. With all the old guys that are found in a Urology ward. I was the youngest patient in, by at least 4 decades.
Just a couple of things to note in case you're ever in the same boat as me:
1) A man's penis is a very sensitive thing. Having an edoscope, two tubes, a camera and a 'basket' (don't ask) shoved up inside it is VERY unpleasant. Avoid this. If you are unable to avoid it, get a general anaesthetic so you're asleep when it happens, like I did.
2) It's still hurt afterwards. Like hell. I'm not kidding here.
3) They do give you a columbian drug-lord's worth of morphine to help with 2) though.
4) That gives you really weird dreams afterwards, and a feeling that is indescribably unpleasant; like really drunk, but really tired as well, yet strangely unable to sleep.
So, I got home today, finally, and am almost ready to face the festive season, when I realise that I've not done any Christmas shopping to speak of (I usually get mine done the week or to before Xmas, and I was already running behind). Since I'm still a wee bit unsteady today, and tomorrow's Sunday, this means I will be shopping on Christmas Eve, in Glasgow, one of the worlds busiest shopping areas. Yay!
How was your week?