Tuesday 20th July am
It may be a cliche, but nursing staff are genuinely obsessed about the state of their patients' bowels.
Every morning on waking, and every evening before retiring, I am asked the inevitable question "Did you move your bowels last night/today?". If I answer in the affirmative, I am interrogated about form and colour; they even have a sheet depicting different constitutions of poo, from which you can select the one most closely resembling your own movement.
An answer in the negative inevitably provokes a disapproving look, and a reminder that failure to perform during the coming 12 hours will necessitate the administration of laxatives along with the next allocation of medicines.
Those of you who know me well will testify that I am not normally one to shirk away from a bit of coarse, toilet talk, but I must confess that I find the repeated discussions about my defecations to be deeply embarrassing although admittedly there are worse things.
Before I entered hospital I decided that, for the well-being of both parties, I would restrict nurses' exposure to my private parts to the very minimum. Fortunately, as I have largely been mobile throught my extended stay, I have been able to wash and wipe myself unaided. There are, however, some poor souls who are much more infirm, and entirely dependent upon the nurses for all matters of personal hygiene. I shudder to think what goes on behind those modesty curtains, but surely wiping the bottom of a suffering patient goes well beyond the call of duty.
And before any of my more laddish acquaintances launch into a "phwoar - if I could get a nurse to wash my willy I'd show her a thing or two" monologue, may I remind you that this is a hospital, populated by seriously ill patients. Libido appears to be at an all-time low; presumably naturally, and not as a result of anything they put in the medication. In real life, it is not a re-run of "Carry on Matron": I think the nurses can all feel reasonably safe from Sid James-style attempts at groping.
Anyway, here are ten songs about bowel movements, with thanks for contributions by my good friend Barney and little brother Dave:-
1 Constipation blues - Screamin' Jay Hawkins
2 Here I go again - Archie Bell and The Drells
3 I second that (e)motion - Smokey Robinson and The Miracles
4 We can work it out - The Beatles
5 Howlin' wind - Graham Parker and The Rumour
6 Dirty laundry - Curtis Mayfield
7 Movin' - Brass Construction
8 Float on - The Floaters
9 Empty ring - Paul Weller
10 Colours - Louden Wainwright III *
*Colours is a song about different hues of dog excrement, starting with the line "The s**t on the streets of this town comes in diffent shades of brown".
May I take this opportunity to apologise to my more sensitive readers, who may find today's subject matter an unfortunate departure from recent posts.
Stay regular!
RP
Tuesday, 20 July 2010
Monday, 19 July 2010
Confounding expectations
Monday 19th July am
It doesn't take much to confuse me, so I admit it: I'm confused.
I woke up this morning fully expecting yet another operation on the disobedient flap, and the ward staff were duly preparing me, by providing the fetching theatre attire, sticking needles into me, and generally making life uncomfortable.
Then about midday, I received a visit from plastic surgeon par excellence, to tell me to stand down; there will be no surgery today. WTF?
I'm assured that this is not because I'm a hopeless case and beyond saving, but that they have decided instead to accelerate commencement of radiotherapy, which will reduce the size of the rippling flap, and enable a much simpler procedure in due course, to facilitate a permanent fixture of flap to surrounding palate tissue. Apparently this will be much less risky to long-term recovery, and allows us to crack on with the much-needed radiotherapy that much sooner. So why can't I help thinking that they're making this up as they go along?
The venerable Miss Patel responded to my numerous written questions with reassuring and convincing answers, and I'm left feeling - what? - relieved, concerned, hopeful, confused.
My main immediate worry was that the bulk of the flap has been causing me to have retching fits - I had another one yesterday evening - and very unpleasant they are too. On probing Miss Patel about this, she kind of acknowledged that I'm going to have to learn to live with it, she also prescribed more drugs to hold the sickness at bay.
So now it would seem that my main priority while I'm in hospital is to wean myself off the tracheostomy; then we should be good(?) to go. So at least it gives me a goal.
Here are ten songs about confusion:-
1 Ball of confusion - The Temptations
2 I can't tell the bottom from the top - The Hollies
3 Mr Ambivalent - Loudon Wainwright III
4 I can't explain - The Who
5 Bewitched, bothered and bewildered - Ella Fitzgerald
6 Puzzlin' evidence - Talking Heads
7 God only knows - The Beach Boys
8 It's a big old goofy world - John Prine
9 Dazed and confused - Led Zeppelin
10 Mysterioso - Thelonius Monk
Onwards and upwards!
RP
It doesn't take much to confuse me, so I admit it: I'm confused.
I woke up this morning fully expecting yet another operation on the disobedient flap, and the ward staff were duly preparing me, by providing the fetching theatre attire, sticking needles into me, and generally making life uncomfortable.
Then about midday, I received a visit from plastic surgeon par excellence, to tell me to stand down; there will be no surgery today. WTF?
I'm assured that this is not because I'm a hopeless case and beyond saving, but that they have decided instead to accelerate commencement of radiotherapy, which will reduce the size of the rippling flap, and enable a much simpler procedure in due course, to facilitate a permanent fixture of flap to surrounding palate tissue. Apparently this will be much less risky to long-term recovery, and allows us to crack on with the much-needed radiotherapy that much sooner. So why can't I help thinking that they're making this up as they go along?
The venerable Miss Patel responded to my numerous written questions with reassuring and convincing answers, and I'm left feeling - what? - relieved, concerned, hopeful, confused.
My main immediate worry was that the bulk of the flap has been causing me to have retching fits - I had another one yesterday evening - and very unpleasant they are too. On probing Miss Patel about this, she kind of acknowledged that I'm going to have to learn to live with it, she also prescribed more drugs to hold the sickness at bay.
So now it would seem that my main priority while I'm in hospital is to wean myself off the tracheostomy; then we should be good(?) to go. So at least it gives me a goal.
Here are ten songs about confusion:-
1 Ball of confusion - The Temptations
2 I can't tell the bottom from the top - The Hollies
3 Mr Ambivalent - Loudon Wainwright III
4 I can't explain - The Who
5 Bewitched, bothered and bewildered - Ella Fitzgerald
6 Puzzlin' evidence - Talking Heads
7 God only knows - The Beach Boys
8 It's a big old goofy world - John Prine
9 Dazed and confused - Led Zeppelin
10 Mysterioso - Thelonius Monk
Onwards and upwards!
RP
Sunday, 18 July 2010
Doom and gloom
Sunday 12th July am
I woke up this morning feeling sad and lethargic. No particular reason why, other than I've been here for four weeks and I hate it. And it's Sunday morning, and I should be out enjoying the sunshine walking the dog. Or preparing Sunday lunch with a glass of something to pass the time. Little mundane things that make life so sweet.
Maybe it's all this one-step-forward-one-step-back stuff, that stops me from seeing a way out of here. We're always one to two weeks away from being discharged, yet it seems to be getting no closer.
These thoughts have got to stop. We're not at home to Mr. Negativity, and strength and determination are the qualities which will result in a quick release.
But it did get me to thinking. What if after all these hospital treatments, and the six weeks of radiotherapy, and the however-long of recovery when I learn to eat, drink and speak again, what if in a couple of years time the doctors say the cancer's returned, and I need to go through the whole thing again. I honestly don't know what my answer would be.
Alright - that's enough of the depressing stuff. Let me tell you what I've got in store the next few days. Well, my dad and brothers are up in London, so they'll come and see me today, along with Catherine and Lucy. Emma can't be there 'cause she's at a pop concert in Spain, but I'll be thinking of her.
Tomorrow is the next - and, I hope, last - in the series of operations to rectify the disobedient pectoral flap. On top of this, I'm getting used to the "talking valve" of my tracheostomy. With all this excitement, what have I got to complain about?
So anyway, sorry to be so downbeat today, I'll be better soon.
Ten songs about being moody:-
1 Sad mood - Sam Cooke
2 Troubles, heartaches and sadness - Ann Peebles
3 Poor, poor pitiful me - Linda Robnstadt
4 My uptight life - Teenage Fanclub
5 Why does my heart feel so bad - Moby
6 Sad and lonesome - Eddie Hinton
7 In the mood - Glen Miller and his orchestra
8 I'm down in the dumps - Bessie Smith
9 Blue and sentimental - Ike Quebec
10 Hot and anxious - Don Redman
Coming up from the depths
RP
I woke up this morning feeling sad and lethargic. No particular reason why, other than I've been here for four weeks and I hate it. And it's Sunday morning, and I should be out enjoying the sunshine walking the dog. Or preparing Sunday lunch with a glass of something to pass the time. Little mundane things that make life so sweet.
Maybe it's all this one-step-forward-one-step-back stuff, that stops me from seeing a way out of here. We're always one to two weeks away from being discharged, yet it seems to be getting no closer.
These thoughts have got to stop. We're not at home to Mr. Negativity, and strength and determination are the qualities which will result in a quick release.
But it did get me to thinking. What if after all these hospital treatments, and the six weeks of radiotherapy, and the however-long of recovery when I learn to eat, drink and speak again, what if in a couple of years time the doctors say the cancer's returned, and I need to go through the whole thing again. I honestly don't know what my answer would be.
Alright - that's enough of the depressing stuff. Let me tell you what I've got in store the next few days. Well, my dad and brothers are up in London, so they'll come and see me today, along with Catherine and Lucy. Emma can't be there 'cause she's at a pop concert in Spain, but I'll be thinking of her.
Tomorrow is the next - and, I hope, last - in the series of operations to rectify the disobedient pectoral flap. On top of this, I'm getting used to the "talking valve" of my tracheostomy. With all this excitement, what have I got to complain about?
So anyway, sorry to be so downbeat today, I'll be better soon.
Ten songs about being moody:-
1 Sad mood - Sam Cooke
2 Troubles, heartaches and sadness - Ann Peebles
3 Poor, poor pitiful me - Linda Robnstadt
4 My uptight life - Teenage Fanclub
5 Why does my heart feel so bad - Moby
6 Sad and lonesome - Eddie Hinton
7 In the mood - Glen Miller and his orchestra
8 I'm down in the dumps - Bessie Smith
9 Blue and sentimental - Ike Quebec
10 Hot and anxious - Don Redman
Coming up from the depths
RP
Saturday, 17 July 2010
The significant other
Friday 16th July 11am
I've got the best wife in the world. Sorry to disappoint you if you thought that your little lady was the one, but this is my blog, and I decide. No extra time, no penalty shoot-out: my wife's the best.
The whole cancer trip is a shared family ordeal, and basically you adopt your respective roles. I play the part of the sufferer, the not-so-stoical patient, living in a state of numb fear while having various unthinkable things done to me by the medical profession. A basically passive role, in which I have little say in what happens and how things progress.
Catherine's role is that of loving carer, keeping spirits high, mopping my fevered brow, smiling and reassuring, keeping me upbeat, so that even in my darkest moments I know that everything's going to be alright. A few people have commented on how lucky I am to have her, believe me, I already know.
Actually, Catherine and I have a great relationship anyway. We didn't need this little spot of adversity to remind us how much we love each other. But now it's come along, she's been magnificent.
I told my Dad yesterday that I thought this whole affair had brought Catherine and myself closer together, but I'm not sure if that's true. We were already remarkably close, and what I really meant was just what a complete joy she's been to me throughout this hell. I knew she would be, and she keeps me going when I feel like giving up. When my Mum died a couple of years ago, we talked about our feelings, and I said the normal stuff about how important it is to keep telling your loved ones how much they mean to you, and to not fall out over relatively trivial matters. And yet, I think that people who love each other continue to engage in meaningless warfare about the most absurd, unimportant things.
So what is this all leading up to? Possibly a statement of the bleeding obvious: a plea to all the people I know and love to make sure that you never let the ones you love doubt it for a minute. Life's too short.
As for progress (?) on the medical front, there's goodish and baddish news. The good news - established through a quick stab with a needle - is that the flap remains alive and well. The bad news is that the stitches are coming apart again. This may not be too serious, although could result in a further delay in my release, or may mean - yikes! - yet more surgery.
As today's theme is all about lurve, I thought it would be cool to do 10 songs about love, but specifically not of the "Three times a wonderful lady in red tonight" variety, which would inevitably result in a return of my puking fits:-
1 Couldn't love you more - John Martyn
2 Your love gets sweeter every day - Finlay Quaye
3 Do I love you (indeed I do) - Frank Wilson
4 Always - Leonard Cohen
5 Pledging my love - Marvin Gaye and Diana Ross
6 Perfect world - Kate Campbell
7 If - The Divine Comedy
8 Into my arms - Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds
9 You send me - Sam Cooke
10 Can I sleep in your arms tonight - Carl Bozulich
RP
PS Latest update on flap front - Rick will need a further operation, probably on Monday. The latest cunning plan to fix the hole in the flap is to re-open his jaw (apparently the bone won't have healed fully yet so it will be a simple matter of taking out a couple of screws and levering the bone apart!), filling in the hole with muscle from the back of the flap (which as it has come from Rick's chest will have an abundant supply of muscle), stitching that in place and Bob's your uncle. After about 10 days the muscle will resemble the rest of the lining in his mouth so no-one will know the difference - that is assuming the muscle will stay in place for 10 days...
Here's hoping
Catherine
PPS I did like typing todays blog!
I've got the best wife in the world. Sorry to disappoint you if you thought that your little lady was the one, but this is my blog, and I decide. No extra time, no penalty shoot-out: my wife's the best.
The whole cancer trip is a shared family ordeal, and basically you adopt your respective roles. I play the part of the sufferer, the not-so-stoical patient, living in a state of numb fear while having various unthinkable things done to me by the medical profession. A basically passive role, in which I have little say in what happens and how things progress.
Catherine's role is that of loving carer, keeping spirits high, mopping my fevered brow, smiling and reassuring, keeping me upbeat, so that even in my darkest moments I know that everything's going to be alright. A few people have commented on how lucky I am to have her, believe me, I already know.
Actually, Catherine and I have a great relationship anyway. We didn't need this little spot of adversity to remind us how much we love each other. But now it's come along, she's been magnificent.
I told my Dad yesterday that I thought this whole affair had brought Catherine and myself closer together, but I'm not sure if that's true. We were already remarkably close, and what I really meant was just what a complete joy she's been to me throughout this hell. I knew she would be, and she keeps me going when I feel like giving up. When my Mum died a couple of years ago, we talked about our feelings, and I said the normal stuff about how important it is to keep telling your loved ones how much they mean to you, and to not fall out over relatively trivial matters. And yet, I think that people who love each other continue to engage in meaningless warfare about the most absurd, unimportant things.
So what is this all leading up to? Possibly a statement of the bleeding obvious: a plea to all the people I know and love to make sure that you never let the ones you love doubt it for a minute. Life's too short.
As for progress (?) on the medical front, there's goodish and baddish news. The good news - established through a quick stab with a needle - is that the flap remains alive and well. The bad news is that the stitches are coming apart again. This may not be too serious, although could result in a further delay in my release, or may mean - yikes! - yet more surgery.
As today's theme is all about lurve, I thought it would be cool to do 10 songs about love, but specifically not of the "Three times a wonderful lady in red tonight" variety, which would inevitably result in a return of my puking fits:-
1 Couldn't love you more - John Martyn
2 Your love gets sweeter every day - Finlay Quaye
3 Do I love you (indeed I do) - Frank Wilson
4 Always - Leonard Cohen
5 Pledging my love - Marvin Gaye and Diana Ross
6 Perfect world - Kate Campbell
7 If - The Divine Comedy
8 Into my arms - Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds
9 You send me - Sam Cooke
10 Can I sleep in your arms tonight - Carl Bozulich
RP
PS Latest update on flap front - Rick will need a further operation, probably on Monday. The latest cunning plan to fix the hole in the flap is to re-open his jaw (apparently the bone won't have healed fully yet so it will be a simple matter of taking out a couple of screws and levering the bone apart!), filling in the hole with muscle from the back of the flap (which as it has come from Rick's chest will have an abundant supply of muscle), stitching that in place and Bob's your uncle. After about 10 days the muscle will resemble the rest of the lining in his mouth so no-one will know the difference - that is assuming the muscle will stay in place for 10 days...
Here's hoping
Catherine
PPS I did like typing todays blog!
Thursday, 15 July 2010
Another day in paradise
Wednesday 14th July 4.30pm
Before I came into hospital, I didn't update the blog everyday, but I've just been instructed by She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed that I have to give my expectant public an update, mainly so she can read the newspaper rather than indulge in the one-way conversations which visiting time inevitably entails.
So what to tell? Well, as far as I'm concerned, things are definitely on the mend. Look ma - no tubes! Also, most of the stitches and staples have gone, and I'm feeling pretty chipper. I've embarked on the essential physiotherapy which will restore my physique to its former glory. Ralph/Rafa/Linda the flap seems to be behaving himself/herself, so everything is cool just now.
By the way, I had no idea you blogettes were such a mercenary bunch. The majority of you seem to be refusing to participate in the "name-the-flap" competition until you know the prize. Well, I haven't decided yet: suffice to say, it will not be wealth beyond compare. Maybe the tooth they knocked out in my last operation? In any case, I'll announce the winner in due course.
Catherine and I received a nice visit earlier, from a chap called Ben, who went through a similar ordeal to me a couple of years ago, and has come out of it smiling and even "enriched" by the experience. Ben is evidence that in spite of the sheer bloody misery of the treatment, it can be all right in the end. Unfortunately, he's better looking after his operation than I was before mine, so I fear that comparisons on our respective appearances may be misleading.
Nevertheless, it was really good of him to drop in, and to talk to someone who really knows what I've been going through, and what's still to come. Apparently, radiotherapy is going to be horrible, but at least forewarned is forearmed.
My main concern just now after such an extended stay is that I may become institutionalised, so here are ten songs on that subject:-
1 St James' Infirmary - Jack Teagarden
2 Fulsom prison blues - Johny Cash
3 If these old walls could speak - Nanci Griffith
4 I don't want to go home - Southside Johny and the Ashbury Jukes
5 My old school - Steely Dan
6 These four walls - Shawn Colvin
7 The walls of red wing - Bob Dylan
8 Christmas in prison - John Prine
9 I shall be released - Bob Dylan
10 Relaxin' at the Touro - Muggsy Spanier (suggested by my dad)
I'm not staying
RP
Before I came into hospital, I didn't update the blog everyday, but I've just been instructed by She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed that I have to give my expectant public an update, mainly so she can read the newspaper rather than indulge in the one-way conversations which visiting time inevitably entails.
So what to tell? Well, as far as I'm concerned, things are definitely on the mend. Look ma - no tubes! Also, most of the stitches and staples have gone, and I'm feeling pretty chipper. I've embarked on the essential physiotherapy which will restore my physique to its former glory. Ralph/Rafa/Linda the flap seems to be behaving himself/herself, so everything is cool just now.
By the way, I had no idea you blogettes were such a mercenary bunch. The majority of you seem to be refusing to participate in the "name-the-flap" competition until you know the prize. Well, I haven't decided yet: suffice to say, it will not be wealth beyond compare. Maybe the tooth they knocked out in my last operation? In any case, I'll announce the winner in due course.
Catherine and I received a nice visit earlier, from a chap called Ben, who went through a similar ordeal to me a couple of years ago, and has come out of it smiling and even "enriched" by the experience. Ben is evidence that in spite of the sheer bloody misery of the treatment, it can be all right in the end. Unfortunately, he's better looking after his operation than I was before mine, so I fear that comparisons on our respective appearances may be misleading.
Nevertheless, it was really good of him to drop in, and to talk to someone who really knows what I've been going through, and what's still to come. Apparently, radiotherapy is going to be horrible, but at least forewarned is forearmed.
My main concern just now after such an extended stay is that I may become institutionalised, so here are ten songs on that subject:-
1 St James' Infirmary - Jack Teagarden
2 Fulsom prison blues - Johny Cash
3 If these old walls could speak - Nanci Griffith
4 I don't want to go home - Southside Johny and the Ashbury Jukes
5 My old school - Steely Dan
6 These four walls - Shawn Colvin
7 The walls of red wing - Bob Dylan
8 Christmas in prison - John Prine
9 I shall be released - Bob Dylan
10 Relaxin' at the Touro - Muggsy Spanier (suggested by my dad)
I'm not staying
RP
Wednesday, 14 July 2010
Sisters (and brothers) of mercy
Tuesday 13th July 3pm
Something I've noticed during my prolonged stay in the sanatorium. All nurses talk to themselves. It can be a bit disconcerting if, when the sister is tending to a particularly delicate dressing, she pauses, frowns, and says something like "how did that happen?"
Since I've been here, I've had a few "Oh my God"s or just "Oh"s, and some mindless chitter-chatter, as if they're just composing their shopping lists. The worrying part is when the one-way conversation takes on a self-instruction direction, as if nursey is constructing an airfix kit, rather than doing something potentionally life-saving (or threatening) with the prone patient's body.
A few of them like a good tune, too - sometimes a current smash from the hit parade, but I swear that it wasn't just the drugs that made me hear one of them giving a rendition of Middle of the Road's 1970's hit "Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep" a few days ago. The most distressing warbling is when someone occasionally chooses a gospel tune of the "Going up to meet my Lord" variety.
Anyway, I'm still here, aren't I? So why should I complain.
And actually, I have very few causes for complaint about the care I've received from the nurses. As in any profession, I've come across good, bad and indifferent, with the good far outnumbering the latter two. For the most part, the nurses who have worked with me have been resolutely cheerful, sympathetic and incredibly competent.
I'm not going to name names, but a stay in hospital for a wuss like me can be a daunting experience, and my fear, pain and panic have been alleviated especially by two or three wonderfully sympathetic people.
Being where I am, I can't research the sort of wages these people are on, but I suspect it's considerably less than I, or most of the people who read this blog, earn. And yet they routinely do all sorts of nasty, messy tasks which I would not contemplate for any amount of money. They keep you clean and safe and to the best of their abilities keep you smiling.
So here are ten songs in praise of nurses:-
1 Sister of mercy - Leonard Coen
2 Take off your uniform - |Joh Hiatt
3 Help me make it through the night - Kris Kristofferson
4 Angel - Aretha Franklin
5 Cup of kindness - EmmyLou Harris
6 Oh, Sister - Bob Dylan
7 There, there, my dear - Dexy's Midnight Runners
8 Angel of the morning - Bettye Swann
9 Someone saved my life tonight - Elton John
10 Night nurse - Gregory Isaacs (yes, I know it's a repeat)
In good hands
RP
Something I've noticed during my prolonged stay in the sanatorium. All nurses talk to themselves. It can be a bit disconcerting if, when the sister is tending to a particularly delicate dressing, she pauses, frowns, and says something like "how did that happen?"
Since I've been here, I've had a few "Oh my God"s or just "Oh"s, and some mindless chitter-chatter, as if they're just composing their shopping lists. The worrying part is when the one-way conversation takes on a self-instruction direction, as if nursey is constructing an airfix kit, rather than doing something potentionally life-saving (or threatening) with the prone patient's body.
A few of them like a good tune, too - sometimes a current smash from the hit parade, but I swear that it wasn't just the drugs that made me hear one of them giving a rendition of Middle of the Road's 1970's hit "Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep" a few days ago. The most distressing warbling is when someone occasionally chooses a gospel tune of the "Going up to meet my Lord" variety.
Anyway, I'm still here, aren't I? So why should I complain.
And actually, I have very few causes for complaint about the care I've received from the nurses. As in any profession, I've come across good, bad and indifferent, with the good far outnumbering the latter two. For the most part, the nurses who have worked with me have been resolutely cheerful, sympathetic and incredibly competent.
I'm not going to name names, but a stay in hospital for a wuss like me can be a daunting experience, and my fear, pain and panic have been alleviated especially by two or three wonderfully sympathetic people.
Being where I am, I can't research the sort of wages these people are on, but I suspect it's considerably less than I, or most of the people who read this blog, earn. And yet they routinely do all sorts of nasty, messy tasks which I would not contemplate for any amount of money. They keep you clean and safe and to the best of their abilities keep you smiling.
So here are ten songs in praise of nurses:-
1 Sister of mercy - Leonard Coen
2 Take off your uniform - |Joh Hiatt
3 Help me make it through the night - Kris Kristofferson
4 Angel - Aretha Franklin
5 Cup of kindness - EmmyLou Harris
6 Oh, Sister - Bob Dylan
7 There, there, my dear - Dexy's Midnight Runners
8 Angel of the morning - Bettye Swann
9 Someone saved my life tonight - Elton John
10 Night nurse - Gregory Isaacs (yes, I know it's a repeat)
In good hands
RP
Tuesday, 13 July 2010
Time passes slowly
Monday 12 July, 11am
Never again will I moan about having to go to work on a Monday morning. As I enter week 4 of my scheduled 2-week break, there's still no imminent prospect of departure.
On the positive side, the flap in my mouth is healthy; I am now free of drains and drips; and the doctors say I'm making "steady progress".
On the other hand, the flap resolutely refuses to affix itself securely to my palate, which can only be cured with time; at least another week in hospital apparently. Also, I keep getting unexpected retching fits, such as last night, when I spent the evening honking and crying, my dear wife holding my hand and offering encouragement, when I should have been watching the World Cup Final.
This place is such a bubble that all I've been able to confirm is that Spain won the World Cup; but not the score, or whether Everton's Johny Heitinga put in a distinguished performance.
Here are some things to look forward to over the next few days:
- I'm going to have my tracheostomy removed. That is to say, providing I can breathe when they close the damn thing off, it'll be removed. This is something I'm anticipating with a great deal of pleasure and fear. Pleasure, because I'll finally be able to start eating, drinking and speaking again; fear, because all previous attempts to do so have resulted in failure due to my inability to breathe. The estimable Dr Dilkes says "we never have any problems" but Phil the Nurse tells me it could take 3-4 days to wean me off the tracheostomy.
- I'm going to undergo - again - the "swallow test", which involves me drinking a cup of blue dye, in front of a group of observers, looking for leaks in my neck
- Games of musical beds. A number of patients were moved from the ward yesterday, due - according to staff - to financial cutbacks. This morning, half the ward has been converted to a building site, as a bunch of workmen are putting in new windows. It seems they'll move to my end of the ward tomorrow, so at least I should get a change of scenery.
Before I go, I have another piece of homework for you dedicated blog followers. As it now seems that flap no.2 is here to stay (fingers crossed), I think we should give it a name. This, remember, is a piece of my puny chest which has been relocated to the back of my mouth where it feels rather more substantial. The best suggestion will get a prize yet to be decided.
Today's ten songs are about time passing slowly:-
1 Wastin' time - Ron Sexsmith
2 Waiting at the station - Neville Brothers (suggestd by Phil the Nurse)
3 Waitin' in vain - Bob Marley and The Wailers
4 We have all the time in the world - Louis Armstrong
5 Longest time - Bill Joel
6 Desperadoes waiting for a train - Guy Clark
7 The rest of my life - Dan Penn
8 All day and all of the night - The Kinks
9 Waitin' for my man - Velvet Underground
10 100 days, 100 nights - Ruth Jones and the Dap Kings
Hangin' Around
RP
Never again will I moan about having to go to work on a Monday morning. As I enter week 4 of my scheduled 2-week break, there's still no imminent prospect of departure.
On the positive side, the flap in my mouth is healthy; I am now free of drains and drips; and the doctors say I'm making "steady progress".
On the other hand, the flap resolutely refuses to affix itself securely to my palate, which can only be cured with time; at least another week in hospital apparently. Also, I keep getting unexpected retching fits, such as last night, when I spent the evening honking and crying, my dear wife holding my hand and offering encouragement, when I should have been watching the World Cup Final.
This place is such a bubble that all I've been able to confirm is that Spain won the World Cup; but not the score, or whether Everton's Johny Heitinga put in a distinguished performance.
Here are some things to look forward to over the next few days:
- I'm going to have my tracheostomy removed. That is to say, providing I can breathe when they close the damn thing off, it'll be removed. This is something I'm anticipating with a great deal of pleasure and fear. Pleasure, because I'll finally be able to start eating, drinking and speaking again; fear, because all previous attempts to do so have resulted in failure due to my inability to breathe. The estimable Dr Dilkes says "we never have any problems" but Phil the Nurse tells me it could take 3-4 days to wean me off the tracheostomy.
- I'm going to undergo - again - the "swallow test", which involves me drinking a cup of blue dye, in front of a group of observers, looking for leaks in my neck
- Games of musical beds. A number of patients were moved from the ward yesterday, due - according to staff - to financial cutbacks. This morning, half the ward has been converted to a building site, as a bunch of workmen are putting in new windows. It seems they'll move to my end of the ward tomorrow, so at least I should get a change of scenery.
Before I go, I have another piece of homework for you dedicated blog followers. As it now seems that flap no.2 is here to stay (fingers crossed), I think we should give it a name. This, remember, is a piece of my puny chest which has been relocated to the back of my mouth where it feels rather more substantial. The best suggestion will get a prize yet to be decided.
Today's ten songs are about time passing slowly:-
1 Wastin' time - Ron Sexsmith
2 Waiting at the station - Neville Brothers (suggestd by Phil the Nurse)
3 Waitin' in vain - Bob Marley and The Wailers
4 We have all the time in the world - Louis Armstrong
5 Longest time - Bill Joel
6 Desperadoes waiting for a train - Guy Clark
7 The rest of my life - Dan Penn
8 All day and all of the night - The Kinks
9 Waitin' for my man - Velvet Underground
10 100 days, 100 nights - Ruth Jones and the Dap Kings
Hangin' Around
RP
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