into the hospital

I wake up, may as well get up. The sun gets up an hour later. I need to relax, I read my favourite book, Lord of the Rings. Always makes me feel better :-)

Breakfast. Inspired by Masterchef kumquat plus something, I experiment with pate and marmalade, it works very well.

Finally time to pack, shower, get ready to go. I get in a foul mood... I tell Deb, don't worry, I'll be fine as soon as we get to the hospital. Not the operation, it's staying away from home that I hate.

Sure enough... we walk into the hospital -- and I'm fine.

A forgotten form to sign. I walk to the surgeon's office, sign -- a consent form. Perhaps if I don't consent :-? ... I sign. From then on every interview includes, The consent form is missing -- it's in the surgeon's office -- okay...

12 noon and I'm admitted. Deb is keeping me company. Which is nice :-) We're excorted to ward 61, neurology.

Hmmm: I'm using a keyboard which tends to double-type. There's no spell-check. My eyes are dodgy. Any odd words are purely the fault of... something else.

People I expect to see today: the surgeon. an admitting doctor, never really been explained. anaesthetist. lots of nurses.

No sign of any doctors. Deb & I go downstairs for coffee and cake. Later: no sign of any doctors. Deb goes home soon after 2:30.

I see lots of nurses. And the tea lady :-) Three o'clock -- or later -- and the surgeon drops by, dressed for bike riding. Accompanied by someone... either we're not introduced or I forget. Yes, I'm slipping into the unthinking patient role, just answer questions and do as told, when told. By whoever. Easy :-)

But I do remember to ask some questions:

I'm booked in for 8am surgery, head of the queue I think. I'll wake up later -- no estimate when -- in ICU. The surgeon will remove anything / everything that causes a shadow on the MRI. He's keen to tell me "everything", not just sampling. So I should come out much as I am now -- only damaged tissue, necrosis and/or tumour -- to be removed. Yes, he will be able to eyeball the brain. Using a camera on a stick (my interpretation). So I come out unchanged... Pathology tests on what he removes will tell us: is it a tumour (more worry) or necrosis (back to regular worrying).

If all goes as expected I should be ready to leave the hospital on Monday. If I'm a good boy, it could be earlier. I email Deb, she wants to know. Hoow long will she need to be worrying...

It's a waiting game, says one of the nurses.

After 4pm the assistant admitting doc arrives.

Twenty minutes later the admitting doc arrives, runs through the same questions and simple "neurological" tests. Pupil dilation. Reflexes. Muscles work, heart and lungs work. Oh, and 82.6kg is my freshly-measured weight.

Ten past five. Nurse pops in, Why do I take the dex at night? It keeps people awake. Convenience, with a meal at a regullar time, I reply. Anyway, sleep is for other people I mutter.

Still no sign of an anaesthetist. Various people have promised blood tests, ECGs, chest x-rays. Sometime. With a wake-up call at 5:30am.

Next visit -- I live in hope -- should be dinner. At 5:30. pm. Followed by evening snacks. Then fasting from midnight :-(  Not even water.

Nick Lethbridge    /    Consulting Dexitroboper
Agamedes Consulting    /   Problems? Solved.
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The more things change, the more they stay insane ... per Ginger Meggs