Another visit to A&E

If you confuse your TWOC and your TURP are you a twurp? When I wrote about my first ever stay in hospital (for a TURP) I was expecting to return a couple of weeks later for another TWOC. Things didn’t quite work out like that. It has become time to introduce you to some new words – acute pyelonephritis, hydroureter, hydronephrosis and pseudomonas – and I might even tell you what they mean. Continue reading “Another visit to A&E”

TWOC’d and Sky-boshed

The other day I was looking at a letter from my consultant that started “I saw this 71 year old gentleman . . .” and thought I wonder who he is talking about. Anyway it looks as if I am going to add another “-ology” to my list of consultants. A week or so ago I went to Ward 12C (Urology) to be TWOC’d. It is in the hospital’s newer building built on what used to be Wycombe Wanderers football ground (they have gone off to the end of an industrial estate at the edge of town). I was shown into a day room with a balcony overlooking, well, a sort of triangular courtyard and walls with spikes on to keep the pigeons off. Unlike previous hospital visits I didn’t get weighed or measured or checked to see that I still had a pulse.
Continue reading “TWOC’d and Sky-boshed”

Send for a plumber

Last week I had my fifth visit to A&E. My first was 20 or so years ago when I thought I had twisted my ankle. Initially I didn’t do anything about it but when it continued to be painful and my foot was pretty shades of blue and yellow I went along to A&E and said “I think I have broken my ankle“. They looked at it, said “Yes you probably have” and sent me on my way – it was too late for any intervention and taking an x-ray would have been a waste of time. My third visit two years ago is documented in Beetroot is not my colour and my fourth in A new word.

Now for my fifth visit. Continue reading “Send for a plumber”

A new word

When we were on holiday I wondered whether I would have anything to say to keep my blog going. Yep, looks like it won’t be a problem.

Today’s new word is thrombocytopenia. We had timed our holiday* so that I could go for a blood test before seeing the oncologist on Monday (looking at the all important PSA levels). I had been going to go first thing Friday morning but a meeting had come up at our daughter’s Day Centre (rumours of it closing) so I had popped over to phlebotomy on Thursday afternoon. Continue reading “A new word”

Beetroot is not my colour

I had thought I was doing so well until my temperature hurdled the threshold for contacting the hospital. I have a little red book which gives a list of things to look out for with strict instructions to contact the Cancer Care and Haematology Unit (or the Cancer Ward at the Churchill  if outside “office hours”) should my temperature go over 37.5 degrees (or below 36 degrees). Mine was 38.8 degrees and my face was impersonating a beetroot. Continue reading “Beetroot is not my colour”