The saga of my slipped disc continues...
To recap, it started back in June 2006 when my old slipped disc played up for longer than usual and, when I eventually went to the doctor, was sent off for an x-ray at St George's Hospital and I discovered I have osteophytes. Into August and I go to the 'back clinic' at Chelsea & Westminster Hospital for the first time to find that the specialist hasn't seen the x-ray so can't really diagnose anything other than to tell me to keep up the good work on losing weight and going to the gym, and come back for a review (luckily, it's a SLADE Day so I'm not too disappointed).
This was followed by a complete relapse on 21 August when total agony ensued, only relieved by magick pills from the doctor and a full SLADE Day. Then back to the 'back clinic' in September to discuss sources and types of pain but no real progress because, as usual, I'm over the worst of the pain following my relapse. Another appointment at the end of October at which nothing happens but the doctor confirms I won't have an MRI scan, followed by a relapse on Christmas Eve and then another follow-up appointment in March. The March appointment was where I'm told the hospital has lost all my records, the consultant tells me I must be in the wrong clinic and then says I need an MRI scan to find out what the problem really is. A totally pointless consultancy which at least resulted in a scan, me bemused and angered by the whole affair but, as usual, I dutifully do as I'm told. I eventually have the scan on 2 May, fat me in a polo mint. And then just yesterday, I get the call to go into hospital for an emergency operation to remove the disc...
So. That brings you up to date. Not a pretty tale. And exacerbated for me by lots of other hospital appointments inbetween for my various other ailments. In a sense, I'm lucky to have access to all this medical treatment so I suppose I should be grateful. These are the magicians and wizards that can heal people and I must do as they say.
Yesterday was a bit fraught with worry. You normally get weeks (if not months) of notice about something like an operation so I'm concerned at the suddenness of it all, no preparations made, no contingencies or arrangements for getting out after an operation. I went to Tooting to buy pyjamas (ended up with substitutes of boxers and tops), get money, get 'fat pants' that won't rub against the wound on release from hospital, sort out things at home on the basis that I'll be away for a few days and won't be very movable when I return, empty the fridge, etc etc. Not much sleep and then into hospital this morning for my 10 o'clock appointment.
Considering I'd had it drummed into me on the phone that I was an emergency I didn't expect to have to sit waiting for 50 minutes to be seen my the specialist. A brief examination (with a student present) and I'm told whatever happens, it's all my choice to which I responded that that was nice but since I'm not a doctor I can't really make an informed choice. If the medical opinion from my case conference on Friday was that I should have an operation then I ought to be listening to their collective wisdom. I ask to see my scan and, believe it or not, they can't find it. Then I'm sent back out to the waiting area to wait for a ward doctor to appear. When she arrived she explained I'd need blood tests, a chest x-ray and an ECG test before the operation that would be at 1.30pm. By now it was about 11.30 and since the clinic dealt with bones it wasn't set up for things like blood tests so they didn't have any of the right equipment or paperwork. Tying a plastic glove around my arm as a tourniquet she couldn't get any blood out of me (I suggested chopping off a finger). Trying the other hand she succeeds and also spills a big drop on my jacket on the floor beside the chair. Then I sit and wait while she took the blood to be tested two floors away at the other end of the hospital.
In the meantime, other nurses come into the cubicle to see if I'd move out so they can see other patients while I point out that the doctor had asked me to stay. She comes back, armed with more forms to fill in since all my medical notes are lost (and not replaced despite going through my medical history in detail on my previous visit). A nurse tells me I have a bed in a ward but it's not ready yet (no indication of when it would be ready). Then I'm sent out to the waiting area again. Then sent for a chest x-ray which, when I return with it the first thing that's said to me is that I've been a long time and they've been waiting for it - so it's my fault I had to wait my turn after two other people for an x-ray? Then I sit waiting... It's all hurry up and then slow down, almost to a complete stop.
It's after 1 o'clock now and all I can think of is that I'm having an operation in half an hour and no-one's doing anything. A few minutes later the head spine surgeon comes out to meet me (he'd arrived a few minutes earlier but I didn't know it was him) who takes me back into a cubicle to talk to me. He told me he'd only seen my MRI scan on Friday and it's the worst he's ever seen without the patient writhing on the floor in agony and if it was a competition for slipped discs then I'd definitely be in gold medal position. Given that he looked to be in his 40s I assume he's seen a lot of discs so that's a little bit scary. He said it was so bad that it could cause irreparable damage to my nerves resulting in permanent disability and that's why he wanted to see me immediately. I ask to see my scan again (I want to see this monster disc) and I'm told I can when they find it but he's only seen it on a computer screen. Then off with the jeans again for an examination (including a finger up my bum). I'm not displaying any obvious symptoms so he says this must all be an incredible shock so maybe the best thing to do is for me to think about it and attend his clinic in two weeks time, no question of waiting lists, if I display any symptoms at all I've got to present myself at Emergency at any time 24/7 and I'll be treated immediately...
By this stage I don't know what to think. I've been told all morning I'm having an emergency operation, I've been telling people so they know I'll be out of circulation for while, I'm supposed to be starting a new job at any time... and suddenly it's not happening. Relief is part of the complex feelings I had rushing round my head, disappointment, frustration and I'm too stunned to say more than, 'oh, ok'. His office will be in touch to make an appointment in his surgery clinic in two weeks time.
I'm stunned as I leave the hospital - why the big change of heart? And after all I've been told and had it drummed into me that I'm an emergency and still am an emergency, why can it suddenly wait another two weeks (or more)? I start worrying - will the next twinge in my back or down my leg be the twinge that makes me permanently disabled because I've left it too long to have an operation? Has my going to the gym been aggravating the disc and making it worse? If I'd had a scan back in August would it all have been caught much earlier and then dealt with before it got to this stage? I don't know. And I still don't know how I feel about it. Firstly they don't get or have lost the original x-ray of my spine, then they lose my entire medical record then they apparently lose the scan over the space of a weekend... Is my next appointment to see how I'm doing or to tell me I'll have an operation the next day? All the questions start flooding in, all the questions I'm too stunned to ask at the time when I'm ushered out of the clinic with words of 'we'll be in touch'. And the whole thing about going to Emergency is fine so long as they can actually find my notes and they include his guarantee of treatment otherwise I'll be treated as someone with back pain who wants a day off work. And, of course, it can only be that Emergency - any other hospital would have no reason to operate at all without going through it's own process of x-rays and scans.
I don't understand. My reason for writing this blog and going back to find earlier entries is to try to help me understand. It hasn't yet, but might help clarify my thinking when I re-read it later. I'm not even sure whether I'm complaining or not, and if I am, what am I complaining about? I spent just under 3.5 hours in a clinic this morning waiting to have an operation I'd not had any time to think about or prepare for, building myself up to it and then suddenly it's all cancelled for no obvious reason. It's a strange mix of feelings - after 9 months of not being listened to and being told losing weight is the answer and suddenly I really do have a back problem that doctors are worried about is, in a strange way, a relief - I haven't been making it up (despite being made to feel that on a few occasions). On the other hand, who wants an operation?
In part, I suppose, it's the loss of control. I lead a comparatively good life, have a reasonably good job where I wield budgets in the hundreds of millions and advise ministers of the Crown at the drop of a hat but when it comes to the witches and wizards of the arcane art of medicine I might as well be a child again. The wizard knows best.
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