Friday, July 05, 2013

Part 3.

Post-Op Day 29

Who knew that sneezing a couple of times would result in a blood bath of epic proportions all over the bedroom and bathroom?  Not me, that's for sure.

Nothing to see here, folk

There were a number of problems with this scenario.
1.  I was alone.
2.  I was in my rather see-through nightie and knew I would need to get to the hospital.

Have you ever tried to get dressed for the hospital while squeezing your nose so that the torrent of blood doesn't get over everything?  Well, it's hard.  I settled on the outfit at the top of the laundry pile (by settled on I mean grappled for); a fetching pair of tracky dacks that I had actually CUT the ends off (put it on inside out of course) and an old stained t-shirt.  Attractive.

Fashion forward.

Now that I'm dressed, we're off...

Oh hang on, we are not off.  How do I get there?  Who do I ring?  Where's the ice?  There is fucking blood, fucking everywhere Lady Macbeth.  Fuck.

By the time I had found the number of my ENT and tracked bloody footprints through the house looking for ice to suck on I was well and truly in the midst of a panic attack.  I was advised to head straight to Emergency.


The thing about being on your own, is that it makes "ongoingness" so much harder.  I realised how right I had been in my last entry.  However, being right doesn't make getting through an emergency any easier than being wrong.  In the end I phoned a friend and got there.


Dr. Wink-Dimples doesn't *do* the ER but his minion, Dr. Dan does. Upon meeting Dr. Dan for the first time I could tell that he didn't like my outfit.  How could I tell?  Oh, he told me.

What do you mean you didn't have time to co-ordinate?

Dr Dan couldn't really tell me why I had started bleeding at an unheard of ONE MONTH after the operation. He plugged it up as best he could and made me stay overnight in the hospital.

plug it up.  plug it up.

I didn't really have any PJs with me so I just lay down and tried to sleep but with Mr Snore in the next cubicle, and Mrs Lights On All Night across from me it wasn't looking good for the old shut eye.  I Facebooked (is this a verb yet?), I read trashy gossip on my iphone, I wrote notes on yellow post-its about why I am such a douche... I prayed it wouldn't start bleeding again.  It was 4am before I actually fell into a restless asleep.

Can't think why I can't sleep.

I was woken by the sound of a Dr. in the next cubicle flirting with all the nurses.  I knew it wasn't Dr. Dan because there is no way that Dr. Dan was that socially adept, but Dr. Love was close to making me sick.  The patient actually sounded quite ill and I felt sorry for him having to listen to Dr. Love making corny jokes as the two young pretties giggled around him (actually, you know they weren't jokes.  He was really unfunny).  Keep it above board people, please!

He's the one they call Dr. Feelgood.

Dr. Dan paid me a visit a few minutes later and told me not to blow my nose.  Hang on Dr., wait.  For how long don't I blow my nose?  How long?  Dr?   Dr...?


I looked up his name later... couldn't find one mention of him on any hospital or ENT register...  Perhaps he was just a walk in off the street.

So there you have it.  I now live in fear of it all happening again.  It was one of the scariest things that has ever happened to me.  Right now, I'm thinking a lot about aloneness and "ongoingness" and I wonder how sustainable my life really is.

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