Hospital for Luke…

06/11/11-13/11/11

Over the previous week a lump had been developing on my bottom and by Monday this had become so sore I could barely walk. Not one to miss work I went in but before long the parcetmol, codeine and ibrufin were not controlling the pain. A trip to the lovely Dr Alex confirmed I had an abscess and I needed surgery that day.

Before long I was in A&E showing my bottom to all and sundry before being admitted and put on the list. Ever increasing doses of painkillers were not helping so at midnight I was somewhat relived to be taken to theatre, anesthetised and the abscess cut out and drained.

The next day James came to see me before work and ascertained I had not assaulted anyone verbally or physically, my normal trick with a general anaesthetic. Later that day after the ward round and the consultant’s entourage I was ready to be released. Roger took me home and ended up putting me to bed as I tuned white as a sheet and started to shake. Some hours later I was ok though.

The rest of the week was spent in a drugged up haze. Tramadol I have found spaces you out and stops you getting on with things. One moment I was lucid and the next I would be staring out of the window washing the same dish for 5 minutes. Drug addiction is not for me although I can see why a stressed out and board house wife or husband with a brood of children may take the pills. They do take the edge of the daily reality.

During the following days I felt rather old as my days revolved around waiting for the district nurse to pup in and dress my wound. Later James took over and proved to be a far more complete nurse. The procedure (don’t read on if your squeamish) is too heel the wound from the inside out. This involves prodding my wound with a stick to see how deep it is, pushing in a wick to drain out any of the bad stuff and when the outside of the wound heals opening this up again with the same nasty little stick. In all pretty dam horrid!

So in all this week was a right off although James and I did receive lots of visitors brining scones, muffins and DVD’s to keep me occupied. The weekend was akin to James fantasy. I slept for 12 hours a night and wanted to sit on the sofa doing nothing. This of course lasted until Sunday when I declared myself almost better and board and undertook 6 hours of gardening…. I never said I was a good patient!