Golf Balls and Pimples

Another trip to hospital today and I arrived over an hour early since I didn't have a written appointment letter, just a message on my answer-phone and I anticipated a bit of to-ing and fro-ing until it was accepted that I really did have an appointment. Luckily the surgeon's secretary was at the reception desk and identified me as the emergency without any notes. I'm obviously famous. And yes, the hospital has lost my notes again - that's the third time now and even the surgeon seemed miffed about it as he showed me a blank piece of paper and a CD of my scan images as the entirety of the hospital's knowledge of me.

I asked to see the scan images and that's the first thing he did - found a computer capable of showing them and I finally saw what all the fuss was about. Usually a slipped disc is a little pimple poking out from the spinal column just enough to press on the nerves that run down down the leg or onto other nerves in the area. Mine's a golf ball by comparison. And here it is >

The surgeon gave me the disc with the instruction to bring it with me the next time I attend hospital - whether he was simply making a point or he genuinely doesn't trust the hospital's admin capabilities, I don't know, but I've got it. It's coded to some medical system so I couldn't simply copy the disc (I'll try again later) but I've copied some of the images.

We had a similar discussion to our discussion three weeks ago and I said 'ok, I may as well have the operation sooner rather than later' and he went off to check surgery appointments and came back and said, 'see you on Thursday'. I was a bit startled by that - I'd expected next week not this week. Then, after I'd mentioned that I was diabetic (which he didn't know due to there being no record of me) he changed it to admission tomorrow, Wednesday, so they could monitor my insulin and blood sugar - wouldn't want me slipping into a coma after surgery, oh no.

So the end result is I go into hospital tomorrow afternoon, operation on Thursday and released home on Saturday to be followed by four weeks of recuperation. I was expecting an operation but I'd been planning on next week, not this, so it was still a bit of a shock. Still, at least the surgeon seems to know what he's doing even if no-one else at that hospital does so I feel a bit relieved.

Of course, that means I miss SLADE Day on Monday and will miss my trip to New York to see Buffy Sainte-Marie the following Monday (I haven't booked flights or hotel, just got tickets for the Highline Ballroom). I haven't booked anything for the rest of June so I'll have a thoroughly exciting time sitting staring out the window as the world passes me by. Another dreary summer ahead of me - but it could be worse.

So that's me signing off for a few days - the next time I blog part of my body will have been cut out and chucked in the bin...