Written yesterday, July 22, in hospital
It’s 9am and it feels as if the day has half gone, but at the same time has hours and hours to go. It seems quite pleasant outside, when I catch the occasional glimpse. I have been in hospital for a week but hope to be going home this evening.
I thought I had got over my June gallstones, but on my birthday I felt bad, and with occasional relief the day after – I was able to go a garden centre with Dot, for instance – it gradually worsened. By Wednesday teatime it got much worse, and Dot rang 999. A clinician rang us back and decided we should go to A&E. So we did.
The usual tests ensued, and I ended up on a side room on Easton ward. Long time ago. After pain relief, I was transferred to Dilham ward (bed 9-1), had another CT scan, followed by a procedure involving putting a camera down my throat, through my gullet and into the gall bladder(or just below it) to remove a suspected stone, lodged near my pancreas. Turned out there was no stone (or it had passed or been miraculously dispersed – which I don’t rule out) but there seemed to be a fistula, which had trapped food. I wasn’t clear what a fistula was. The whole concept of eating I found very off-putting. Later a doctor drew me a diagram, which helped – with my understanding, that is.
It was then decided I needed an MRI scan to take a closer look. I could have had this the next morning, but the nurses forgot to tell me not to eat and drink after midnight. In fact I had diarrhoea and asked specifically if I should eat. I was told yes, I should flush it through. Pretty angry. Another day’s delay, with my hands and arms covered with bruises from attempts to affix cannulas. Made you really appreciate someone who knew how to take blood.
Eventually I had the MRI scan, at about 7.30am on Tuesday. I was told there were no complications, but I had to fight the infection with at least two sorts of antibiotics – one oral, one intravenous. I needed to stay in hospital until my blood was back to normal. So I was sort of dumped back in bed and left for monitoring, while much more interesting and worse-off patients got all the attention. Quite rightly of course, but annoyingly if they happened to be South African, deaf, noisy and determined to get their rights.
Gradually the diarrhoea abated and I felt a bit more like eating. Dot kept me going all through with daily two-hour masked visits, which were particularly valuable when I felt low. After the first few days I was able to read and have finished Ancillary Mercy and several newspapers, plus sudoku.
The MRI scan was more complicated than I thought, involving lots of holding my breath, which was quite difficult. Amazingly thorough, though. Hard to imagine anything not being seen. Main problem with ward as usual is under-provision of toilets. I was “told off” twice for using women’s toilets, but there is only one men’s toilet, and that’s often unusable. In fact all the sane nurses said you could use either; so I did.
There is some confusion over whether I’ve had pancreatitis or not. However it’s apparently not my fault. Obviously guilt was my big worry.
All pales into insignificance compared to Peter Walker, who was in the centre-opposite bed until yesterday. Had a brief chat with him at one point. As he departed it became clear that he had been diagnosed with terminal cancer (probably liver) and was being taken to Priscilla Bacon Lodge. He looked totally devastated – and probably was.
Incidentally I am now confident I don’t have COVID-19. Not yet, anyway. I have had at least six tests, all negative.
Written today, July 23, at home
Dot came to see me in the afternoon, and eventually I was almost rushed away, without my discharge letter, because there was a printing problem. The duty doctor was a bit uncertain, because my white cell count wasn’t improving as much as it might. I was uncertain too, but really didn’t want to spend another night in hospital. So we made a run for it, with the assistance of nurse Mary, who had all my drugs ready, including a pack I know nothing about and as far as I know haven’t had before. They seem to be painkillers.
Felt very woosy on the way to the car and later – in fact I still do, a bit. Had a bit of food in the evening but not up to much. Went to bed early, as far as I can remember, and slept reasonably well. Dot has been doing her online retreat today, but we had lunch together. Amazingly, no phone calls (up to now, which is after 5pm). Des delivered the groceries, though. Timed to perfection so that Dot could go to the door.
Had a bath and went to sleep in it, which made me feel very strange. Watched a bit of TV, and later sat in the garden for a few minutes. Weather mild. Birds still friendly.