Feelings I Don't Want to Repeat
Here’s a feeling I would rather not repeat.
On the day we flew back from Powell River to Vancouver City (my best friend, Canada and I) I ended up in the emergency room at Powell River Hospital at 6am.
Apparently the medical term for it was peri-anal thrombosis (yes, yes, I did say anal). The doctor turned up 2 hours later after having a sleep and once I explained to him I had a painful case of haemmerroids he says “Unfortunately, you are going to have to show me” I replied, “Yes, I know, I hope you haven’t had your breakfast yet”.
My best friend, in the meantime is waking up back at the house, finds out I’ve been taken to the hospital and immediately reacts “OMG, what did he do to her??!” Let me just state for the record, Canada did not do anything to me that caused this problem).
Anyway, the doctor injected it with an anaesthetic, cut it open, removed the blood clot and I had instant relief, I could’ve kissed him! I bounded out the room and said to Canada “Hey, look at me, walking all normal-like again!”
The anaesthetic hung in there long enough for me to pack my bags and get myself organised for our flight back to the city. After that I was walking like a cripple again.
After a 30 minute flight back to Vancouver and settling into our hotel, Lily came and picked us up, I was so happy to see her again (as much as one can be with a carrot stuck up their bum kinda feeling). She drove us around the city, pointing out various sights for almost two hours. I saw nothing but the inside of my eyelids, thanks to my previous host in Powell Rivert and her worthy painkillers, I was out cold on the backseat. Needless to say, they woke me in time to enjoy dinner with them.
Vancouver for the night, then onto Ottawa the following day (my best friend stayed in Vancouver with a mutual friend of ours). I spent the next day hobbling around until Canada booked me an appointment with his own doctor, who became furious with the Power River hospital doctor for not doing the job right the first time.
I guess that meant that if Dr Hospital had done it properly, Dr Ottawa wouldn’t have to be doing it again. Like I wanted to go through minor surgery again. But I did, and from what Canada told me, he could hear me from the waiting room. This doc was rather rough. This doc said he’d never seen one so big before, which left me wondering if it was the surgery subject matter he was referring to, or my butt. I paid, got my receipt and stumbled out of the surgery….turned around and cried on Canada who asked “what are you crying for?” My response “cos I can”…he wrapped his arms around me and said “oh ok”
That afternoon Canada mixed up bottles of saline for my use (you know, possible infection hanging over me), spent 10 minutes in the drugmart finding me a donut cushion and for the rest of my stay he cooked me meals that had an equal balance of protein and fibre (blah) to ensure the ‘incident’ doesn’t repeat itself. I barely lifted a finger, and when I tried to, I got told off.
By the way, those donut cushions ROCK!!
***
One more thing I don’t want to feel again….I’ve just overflowed the laundry tub whilst sitting here happily blogging away. This overflow has gone through my laundry floor and down into the back bedroom of my tenants below. Damn.
On the day we flew back from Powell River to Vancouver City (my best friend, Canada and I) I ended up in the emergency room at Powell River Hospital at 6am.
Apparently the medical term for it was peri-anal thrombosis (yes, yes, I did say anal). The doctor turned up 2 hours later after having a sleep and once I explained to him I had a painful case of haemmerroids he says “Unfortunately, you are going to have to show me” I replied, “Yes, I know, I hope you haven’t had your breakfast yet”.
My best friend, in the meantime is waking up back at the house, finds out I’ve been taken to the hospital and immediately reacts “OMG, what did he do to her??!” Let me just state for the record, Canada did not do anything to me that caused this problem).
Anyway, the doctor injected it with an anaesthetic, cut it open, removed the blood clot and I had instant relief, I could’ve kissed him! I bounded out the room and said to Canada “Hey, look at me, walking all normal-like again!”
The anaesthetic hung in there long enough for me to pack my bags and get myself organised for our flight back to the city. After that I was walking like a cripple again.
After a 30 minute flight back to Vancouver and settling into our hotel, Lily came and picked us up, I was so happy to see her again (as much as one can be with a carrot stuck up their bum kinda feeling). She drove us around the city, pointing out various sights for almost two hours. I saw nothing but the inside of my eyelids, thanks to my previous host in Powell Rivert and her worthy painkillers, I was out cold on the backseat. Needless to say, they woke me in time to enjoy dinner with them.
Vancouver for the night, then onto Ottawa the following day (my best friend stayed in Vancouver with a mutual friend of ours). I spent the next day hobbling around until Canada booked me an appointment with his own doctor, who became furious with the Power River hospital doctor for not doing the job right the first time.
I guess that meant that if Dr Hospital had done it properly, Dr Ottawa wouldn’t have to be doing it again. Like I wanted to go through minor surgery again. But I did, and from what Canada told me, he could hear me from the waiting room. This doc was rather rough. This doc said he’d never seen one so big before, which left me wondering if it was the surgery subject matter he was referring to, or my butt. I paid, got my receipt and stumbled out of the surgery….turned around and cried on Canada who asked “what are you crying for?” My response “cos I can”…he wrapped his arms around me and said “oh ok”
That afternoon Canada mixed up bottles of saline for my use (you know, possible infection hanging over me), spent 10 minutes in the drugmart finding me a donut cushion and for the rest of my stay he cooked me meals that had an equal balance of protein and fibre (blah) to ensure the ‘incident’ doesn’t repeat itself. I barely lifted a finger, and when I tried to, I got told off.
By the way, those donut cushions ROCK!!
***
One more thing I don’t want to feel again….I’ve just overflowed the laundry tub whilst sitting here happily blogging away. This overflow has gone through my laundry floor and down into the back bedroom of my tenants below. Damn.
Buying a girl a donut cushion and saline is a sign of a relationship rather than infatuation.
ReplyDeleteThank you H&B, I appreciate your comments, always do.
ReplyDeleteI'm thinking about writing a 10 page essay or something of the like on here today...thought maybe it might count for about, say, 400 medium sized blog posts, which could help me lose 5lbs.
I also want to thank you for having such a long list of blogs you read on your site...that's helped me tremendously with reading fodder. I've completely given up hitting "next blog" now.
Yay for you! :)