April 25, 2009
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Pies
Having visited the doctor at hospital once more, I was x-rayed and the stones in my kidneys had moved. The pills I had been given the first time (and I took all of them, pretty much) had not worked their magic properly, and so I was given a stark dose of reality. If I did not sort them out very quickly then it could cause irreparable damage to my kidneys. As I figured these stones had been there since the last time I had suffered from the damn things, I – for probably the first time in my life – found myself accepting unquestionably the advice of someone who really knows best.
“What’s your suggestion doc?” I asked – my doctor being extremely good at English.
He listed my options, telling me that one of the stones was very close to my spine, so the shock wave treatment he would normally suggest might be a tad risky (i.e. if any fragments of the stone lodged in my spine it could leave me paralysed). After very little consideration, the recommendation was for an operation.
“Can you stay in now?”
“Why not?” I reckoned…
“We’ll do the op tomorrow, and you’ll be out Saturday.”
“In that case no chance,” I interjected. “I’ve got a football game tomorrow.”
We arranged I would go to in-patients the following Tuesday, the op on Wednesday, and I could leave probably Thursday.
“So what are you going to do exactly?” I asked.
He explained the process of sticking a tube up my wiener, then up through the uterus, and in to the kidneys where he would systematically smash each one so that they would get flushed out of my system.
“Sounds painful,” I said, my eyes already watering from the perceived pain my nob would be feeling in less than one week’s time.
“You’ll have a local anaesthetic, so you can watch what’s going on.”
“Trust me,” I replied, “I don’t want to watch you stick a tube up my wedding tackle. Can I have a full anaesthetic instead?”
He said I could, and it made no difference to him one way or the other.
I did all the paperwork with the in-patient department before leaving, where they told me they would call me when they wanted me in, and so off I headed, back home on the mountain bike.
I was telling people about the forthcoming operation and they were all worried for me, but at the time I had no concerns. Sure all operations are risky, but I trusted my doctor, and at the end of the day, kidney stones are not something any man wants to suffer from. It was me telling people not to worry, that everything would be fine.
Until the Monday arrived and I went shopping in Carrefour, picking up some snacks to take to the hospital. All of a sudden, anxiety hit me – and it was a massive wave of doubt, almost to the point of panic, and it came close to bringing me to tears. But within 5 minutes I was back to my old self, without a care in the world.
So on the Tuesday lunchtime I was with the kitty, giving her a cuddle when the phone rang and it was the hospital, asking me to be there around 3, so the kitty comforted me, and I comforted the kitty, as the last couple of hours went by.
I packed by bag – being sure to take the computer - left home, took the Suzuki, and parked in the little known parking lot next to the hospital complex, stopping off on the way at the Family Mart to buy snacks. No, I had not forgotten to pack the ones I had bought the previous day – I had already eaten them. Nom nom!
In to the inpatients department, where the paperwork was signed – so I did not know what it was I was signing, but cared little. They are standard forms and other people were signing them, so I figured I would too. If it meant signing away the millions of dollars I don’t have, then so be it. I don’t care who has the money I don’t have anyway. Get in line for it chaps.
The nurse took some blood for some tests, your humble chronicler making his usual bullshit jokes about not taking too much and feigning pain, making the rather cute young lady (cute from the little I saw of her given the fact that most of her face was covered by a mask) smile and laugh a little. Finally I was led to the ward and shown my bed, so I unpacked the computer, ignoring for the moment the hospital clothing that I would doubtless not be able to ignore for too much longer.
I was nice and relaxed, having an evening of Football Manager and pizza, deciding not to opt for the veggie food offered by the hospital.
The next morning, after an uncomfortable and loud night of very little sleep, thanks to 17 consecutive hours of one of my room mates snoring, in came the doc to give me a briefing. I had already decided I was going home that evening – there was no chance I was going to survive another night of that snoring. I missed my bed, I missed my cat, I missed my peace and quiet.
“General anaesthetic please,” I asked the doc.
“You sure you want to go home?”
“Absolutely certain.”
After a couple of hours of waiting I was finally taken to the operation prep room, where I seemed to be the source of amusement, not because of any jokes I was making but the fact that I was not Taiwanese, and therefore was a novelty in this part of the hospital.
Many years ago I broke my leg – and despite having not eaten for some days, I still had to wait 8 hours before my operation. As I was in the prep room, they stuck a needle in my arm, followed fairly quickly by a syringe.
“What does that do?” I asked.
“It relaxes you.”
“Oh….ok.”
A short while later, relaxation not really setting in because I was already relaxed anyway, a second syringe appeared.
“So what does this one do?”
“This will put you to sleep,” the nurse said, as she emptied the syringe in to my arm.
30 seconds later, I was still compus mentus.
“When will it put me to sleep?”
A few surprised glances around the room told me that this was not supposed to happen. Shortly afterwards another syringe appeared, and that is about as much as I remember.
In hospital for the kidney stone op, along came a syringe.
“What does that do?” I asked.
If there was an answer, I don’t remember it. I was out like a light.
I came to with a sensation that I needed a piss. I looked around but there was nothing really making it from my eyes to my brain. The first real thing that I remember is a nurse giving me a chocolate, which I thought was very nice of her.
“Xie xie” I said.
She spoke to me in English, so whilst I was listening to her, I unwrapped the chocolate from its foil.
“Don’t eat it,” she said.
“Why not?”
“You’ll be sick.”
“No I won’t.”
But I stopped unwrapping it anyway. For the moment.
As she turned away, I popped it in my mouth. Yummy.
Was I sick? Be serious.
The doc came to me and asked me if I was absolutely certain about going home that day, and I reaffirmed my intention. I had already called Café India to tell him I was coming in, and not to worry about delivering to the hospital. Great man, that he was prepared to deliver to me…
He asked me if there was anything special I wanted prepared, and I said sure – telling him about the interesting new dishes I had found and wanted to try. He got the chef n it immediately, and I hung up. Now all I had to do was make sure I was in good enough shape to be discharged from hospital. Reading my book was boring, there was no TV anyway, and playing Football Manager was not so easy. I was immobile, a tube stuck up my wiener and leading down to a big bag which was filled with a weird yellow liquid. Until I realised of course what it was.
The afternoon was one of the slowest I have ever had, and I so desperately wanted to get up and walk, the doctor telling me I would not be stable. Tosser. Of course I would be stable. I wanted to get up and go to the toilet, but I was stuck where I was.
Around 7 the doc was supposed to come and look at me, but no one came. I managed to sit up and get to the bottom of the bed, trying in vain to catch someone’s attention, but there was no one interested in poor old me. Bastards. I was hungry and ready for Café India. I wanted out but there was no sign of anyone. Finally, at 7:30 the doc came in, and left almost immediately – COME ON!!!! LET ME GO HOME!
45 minutes later he returned, pulled out the tube and said I should go to the toilet, where I would quite possibly experience some discharge. I told him I cared not, as long I could get a discharge from the hospital. I went to the bathroom, peed a little blood at the end of it, cared not a fig, got dressed, and walked to the counter where I asked if I needed to sign anything. They said no, so I looked at the doc, said thanks, asked is it ok to go… everything was fine. All I needed to do was go to the cashier and pay my cash – no worries.
Off I headed…
Café India was awesome!
