The Lung Good Friday - well Tuesday

Please don't let anyone feel guilty but my last blog did not receive as many comments as before. I put this down to the credit crunch. The credit crunch has a lot to answer for not least of which is disenabling my friends, my good friends, those that have been such stalwarts through this terrible disease that I am battling through, here, alone, on my own, saying goodnight to his reflection in the bathroom mirror as he checks off the 'goodnight list' before going back down stairs to check the doors are locked for the third time and that the oven is switched off then back up the fourteen stairs turning on the nightlight on the wall. We are all grateful that the credit crunch cannot effect the content, quality, wit or discursive commentary that this blog is made of.

Now onto the current blog . I know, I cannot help it - its about hospital and me - that is the purpose of this blog (see Deb). I was sat in hospital on the ward, incredulous still about my situation and it occurred to me I should blog. What follows is a word for word (well mostly) copy wrote the day before the op. Apologies if in some parts it seems callous but I was not feeling very 'human'.


Funnily enough I did not sleep well last night - awoke at 3.30 A.M., checking the freak snow in England. I knew I had to be at Heathrow Airport by 9.00 A.M. and it is 75 minutes away - I needed to be ready to leave on time. I was picking up Dad and Coral after their trip to Turkey for the wedding, the snow in England meant they had to o/night in Vienna.

Obviously, the flight was delayed, but after I met Dad and Coral I was assured it was all worth it and a marvelous time was had by all.

Congratulations again to J and M

Arrived at the hospital at around 11.00 A.M. and made are way to the bowels of this NHS hospital to the Cardio Thurrassic Unit (CTU). Just following signs made me feel crap. Waited at reception, filled out the same form as last time but not quick enough apparently as the kindly receptionist - for those of you who know - think Hatty Jaques in 'Carry on Matron' wearing Cold Water Creek - strode over and with a comforting yet slightly patronising smile and said not to worry about NHS number or doctors phone number, just the important bits - like 'Next of Kin'.

Confidence.

So we were escorted onto the ward. If it wasn't for Hatty I would have turned and run for the hills. Those souls in the beds were going to be me in 24 hours. I am not that old and sick. No-one is that old and sick. What if these people walked in looking like I did and then 24 hours later .......

Confidence.

Guess what - my bed was not ready. Even though I had telephoned nearly three hours ago and was assured they were ready for me. We were escorted, Dad, Coral and I into the 'Day Room'. Let me paint you a picture. Imagine a dumpster or skip with a lid, assorted soft furnishing that had been very generously donated, germ infested magazines from Motor home monthly to Women's Realm, a jig saw and a telly - on loud - with the delights of day time talk shows for all to share and the majority of the seating filled with patients and their families. I could tell that the visitors were family and not friends because they all looked the same.

Confidence.

I made several escapes to reception seeking information about my bed - lesser of two evils - would not be for some time. I convinced Dad and Coral that they should leave as they had been travelling for hours - they agreed. It was a good decision.

Just before 1 P.M. the room emptied. I was left alone, a trolley delivering pills and potions could be heard in the distance. The corridor outside the Day room went dark. I hesitantly partially opened the door. The ward was dark. No lights. Now bear with me. After an exceedingly hearty and of usual high standard Sunday Lunch at L&Ps last week we settled in to Sticky Toffee Pudding - no not the Cartmel one - L did apologise - M&S a very successful replacement- in front of possibly the worst Bond Movie ever made. The one starring George Lazenby. I was reminded of this because part of the dastardly plot to take over the world is where in Blofeld's hospital in the Swiss Alps he hypnotises a group of 'desirable' women under the pretext of allergy treatment. They are eventually sent back to the world and when the effects of the hypnosis is triggered they release a deadly gas. I wonder if this is what goes on here. Am I going to have some implant that I trigger and that this dark time is a period of deep hypnosis?

Confidence.

This dark time went on until 3 P.M.. This is when I began to make friends. I shall call him Henry. He came in to the Day room, very chique green PJ pants and what seems to be the de rigeur uniform from my trip through the ward, matching PJ button up top but don't fasten the buttons - the scar is very becoming. Our conversation went something like this -( no punctuation I will get it wrong

Henry : Why are you here
Adrian: (slightly bombastically) treatment
Henry : You cant be, how did you get here, this is my house, I bought it. (Accompanying dribble)
Adrian: (Even more bombastically) Really - (turns around making sure he can see Henry's reflection in the window.

Confidence.

I am still waiting in the Day room when a doctor I have never met sat down and explained the benefit of the operation and then in great detail the risks of the operation. Or more accurately a description of what could happen to the A-Z of vital organs in my body.

Confidence.

I am now on my bed. This is going to be a long night. D visited - brilliant. Laugh, moaned and coached. We also suck out for my last smoke. Not in the firing squad sense. Dave left and I was planning my evenings entertainment - which included a shower using surgical scrub - golly.
Henry just walked past my cot - His PJ pants now two toned. Going to be a long night.
It just confirms everything I put in my will.

Its almost 10 P.M. and I can assure you that the luke warm, slightly dripping shower using a liquid scrub that is supposed to smell like pomegranate but smells like a pommie in a WWI trench is only made bearable by the 800 thread Egyptian cotton extra large monogrammed hotel towel provided by the NHS to gently dry your stinging pores. I used to dry my dog with better and bigger towels.

Confidence.

Its now almost 11P.M. and I have just spent the last 15 minutes listening to what each and every patient on the ward has done, taken, acted, said and what is recommended if Henry becomes more stressed. Additionally I now know the life ambitions and some of the love life of the nursing staff.

Most of my fellow travellers are in various states of slumber, unfortunately sleep does not bring silence. At least no passing ship is likely to hit us. You may remember - we are in t
he bowels of the hospital and I cannot get Radio 4 . It is going to be a long night.

Confidence.
Wednesday 5.15 A.M. Not going to bother describing last night - just that I am quite looking forward to the operation as I know I will be out of it tonight.