Home from hospital!

Well, I'm back home from the hospital visit. In fact, I got out last Wednesday afternoon, but haven't felt like doing much until now. I am now free of catheters, bags and tubing!! What a relief! I can only marvel at the way modern medicine is able to rectify such problems. A century ago I would have literally passed away on the basis of not being able to "pass water", as the hospital refers to it. A brilliant operation, if somewhat painful. Even with my low pain threshold my reasoning has conqured my fears.

Going into an NHS hospital can mean that many things can happen. The main non-medical fact is that it is egalitarian. You will never know what kind of person will be occupying the beds alongside you. As it happens, I was the youngest by far, dealing with deafness and doubtful understanding of a couple of my fellow inmates. Bizarrely, during the night following the operation one of them appeared at the washbasin, that was by my bed, at 2.30 in the morning. On waking, to see this spectre, I realised he was peeing in the thing. "Ooah! That's supposed to be a washbasin!" I exclaimed. "Don't tell anybody!", he limply muttered. I didn't, but thought that it was a bit rich. I thought it best not to say anything. I explained it away to myself as being OK seeing as the basin would be cleaned at 7am. As he had been a martial arts guy, I lay back in my bed pondering the weird possibility of being found in the morning. "What's happened here, nurse?" "I don't really know. Seems he's been strangled and had his catheter ripped out!" I drifted off to sleep leaving my fantasies to weaken.

The next day, the same chap had a garbled conversation with an Indian doctor. The doctor was straight out of a Spike Milligan sketch. The patient could have been Spike himself! The doctor was trying to ascertain the patient's correct address. The patient had just minutes before been talking to us of his life in exotic overseas countries. "Why you say you are coming to England? You are already in England!" said the exasperated medic. The conversation was definitely not a meeting of minds. Wow, it certainly is entertaining going into hospital!

My operation was conducted using a spinal anaesthetic. The idea is great. It knocks you out without subduing your mind. However, it affects your brain! I'm here differentiating between my mind and my brain. I was watching a TV screen which showed the operation. It was a colourful but repetitive movie. My prostate being scraped and squeezed. Perhaps it was my brain not fully appreciating the viewing, but I felt my head and shoulders trying to raise themselves from the table. "Oh! Don't get up!" said a voice, as I gawped at three faces peering into my groin. They were in semi-darkness, with a strange light behind them. I don't remember much after that, except this startling vision is still very much with me. My surgeon said later "You were restless!?!" "Oh, was I? I'm sorry" I found myself saying.

Back on the ward, I was just in time for dinner! I've never ever eaten a meal where I've had the sensation of NOT sitting on my bottom. Very weird!

All in all, I was treated well. The nurses were great, the doctors were great. I had a good time with my own internal laughs, but am pleased it is all over. As one nurse quite rightly said, "You can get your quality of life back, now!" Bravo to that, I say!

Posted in: hospitals,NHS,prostate