No-one on earth will be happier than me/I/me when I cease and desist from posting about medical matters. They are boring me to death, so I can only imagine what they are doing to the rest of you. But hey, I don't actually have anything else to talk about right now! Unless I start being observational/philosophical/random. Maybe later.
The doctor's surgery and I are becoming well acquainted. I do believe I may be less than amused if I arrive and find someone sitting in "MY" chair next time. The medical staff may be sick of me though. Come on then, hopalong, he says as he ushers me down the corridor. The doctor, that is.
Yesterday's little venture was to check out the fact that my thigh is now starting to swell. And as I have medical friends, one of them suggested that I start measuring it and if it gets bigger, have it checked out because we do not want to have a venous thrombosis, do we. I, of course, googled venous thrombosis, and moved on the DVTs and decided I did not want to wake up dead. And so we went to visit my chair again. Today I will go to the hospital for a scan to check. The doctor does not think I have anything to worry about, but, probably because I was a wreck when I hobbled in the door, he is going to make sure.
I can live with that. Living is something I plan to keep doing.
Just so I can bug my son. He has just finished cleaning the gutters outside, made me coffee, and has watered my garden. And now he has the dishwasher to empty. He is muttering, but I like sons who mutter. They make me grin. He is a star really.
You know, what is driving me crackers about this leg is that none of this swelling or complicated bit would have happened if I had seen a specialist straight away and been treated. It is 5 weeks since I wrecked my knee. The longer I have waited, the more damage has been done. Change in diagnosis, conflicting treatment, increasing pain, different doctors....... the NHS is not having one of its finer moments. In my opinion. The scary thing is that we are well within what is regarded as acceptable time frames by that NHS. And we have yet to see how long I will have to actually wait for treatment. I am not optimisitc here at all. And yes, I could have gone privately and been seen sooner, but the absence of significant zeros in my bank account precludes that alternative.
For those of you who don't know how the NHS works - we have free medical treatment for all in the UK. GPs, Consultants, operations. The lot. You just have to take your place in the queue. Of course, it is not really free, because our tax and national insurance pays for it, but still, everyone has access. And in an emergency, everything is quick. So I have plenty to be thankful for. Just frustration at the delays tends to hide the blessing of free care. I know, I know. I am grateful really. Really. I am.
I had to remove the gold bangles and rings for the scan. You have no idea. I thought my hand was going to need reconstruction. There is a reason they have not been off for over 20 years. Airport security officers and I know each other well. They don't come off. Well. They have now. It was not a pretty sight, and I used oodles of soap, and there was much muttering and moaning. They will stay off now until I am sure I am fixed. It feels strange, though. I am used to them. They are part of me.
On a completely unrelated note, I have had some lovely comments from people who are new to this little corner. However, when I click on their name to go and visit them, blogger comes up with no link to a blog. So if you are someone who has posted a comment and I have not been round, please leave your link in the comments for me! And thanks, Karen, for doing so yesterday. It was the reminder I needed to mention this here.
And now I have to hobble off to make myself look respectable.....