I've Got Some Nerve

I know what you’re thinking, it’s been two days since his hospital appointment and he still hasn’t told us how he got on. I have been busy you know, looking for a new jacket on eBay and ordering cuddly versions of Krampus and the Grinch for my Christmas display.

So here goes. For the third time in three weeks I ventured to the big hospital to see someone I hadn’t seen since last year, the surgeon who operated me. If you’ve been reading the stuff I put on here you’d know that the cardiology team suggested getting in touch with the thoracic team because I was still in a great deal of pain from my diaphragm repair and chest drain operations last year.

I was more than surprised to get an appointment with them just a few days after I contacted them, but then again, given what I went through last year perhaps it shouldn’t be such a surprise.

 

Anyway, the day’s events started with a visited to Radiology for an x-ray. An hour later I saw the man himself, and having studied the x-ray and listened to my airways he gave me news that was something of a relief, if only in parts.

The lungs and diaphragm looked fine, a hell of a lot better than they did last year. As for the pain, which centres around my right ribs and the right side of my back and reaches out to my neck and right hip, comes from a combination of the deep scar tissue interacting with the nerves. Even typing this is causing me some discomfort.

The treatment – there is no magic cure sadly, so I’ve been referred to the hospital’s pain management team to sort out a program. I have no idea what that could entail, but hopefully it will get me to a point where I can think about looking for work again.

There was one other thing that happened there that left me a little lost for words though. The surgeon showed me two of my x-rays, side by side. One was the x-ray taken that day, the other was the x-ray taken when I was first admitted to hospital in September last year. The new x-ray showed that my right lung was clear, while the older one showed that my right lung was full of nasty stuff, about three litres of stuff to be precise.

I have to admit I felt a bit emotional seeing that. Not only was it a reminder of just how far I’ve come in the past year but a reminder of just how fucking bad things were for me, and how close I came to…well…you know. I don’t even like to say that word in relation to what happened to me.

So I’ve got at least two more trips to the big hospital coming up, one a follow-up for my cardioversion, and another with the pain management team. I will always be grateful for everything they’ve done for me over the past year, but there comes a time when I hope I’ll never have to see them again.