Who says having medical problems can’t be humorous? Well slightly amusing, well mildly ironic at least. Why do I write so flippantly about my health? Well it’s just funny in a way that’s all. What do they say about busses – you wait for ages and one doesn’t come and then two come along at the same time.
And now I have this situation with my doctors (note the plural). In the last seven days my medical experiences have been as follows (look away now if you are of a a sensitive disposition)– last Friday, a visit, after a telephone conversation with a doctor to discuss my recurring stomach problems. Having said that he didn’t want to discuss more than one problem per visit. Fair enough I thought, he then rolls my prostate issues together with the stomach pains.
This made a nonsense of my self-diagnosis. I had decided the stomach pains were a repeat of the polyps of a year or so ago and therefore nothing to be concerned about. He starts talking about my prostate and marvellously linked peeing problems and decides the pains might be to do with that. To make his point he shoves his finger up my bum. Yes prostate more enlarged but nice and smooth.
We’ll do a blood test to see what your PSA levels are and presumably any other nasty bits that the blood samples might show. If they’re bad, he said I’ll call you. If you don’t hear, you call the surgery.
By now I don’t know whether to be pleased or pained. What I had hoped was that when we got to the prostate issue, which was not on this visit but then it was, that he would simply change my medication. This as the last specialist had suggested might be necessary if this medication didn’t work – which it hasn’t at least not well enough for my liking. I was supposed to see this specialist guy last July but I cancelled because, at this time, visiting a hospital didn’t seem all that desirable. People were dying in them.
Hey ho. Anyway I hoped my GP would be able to change the medication without me having to go back to the hospital. Ha, as if. So he’s arranging another visit to the hospital. As he explained what I needed was a specialist’s finger up my bum (he didn’t really say that but that was the implication). Lucky me, you say. Or more probably you don’t say anything because you stopped reading in disgust a couple of paragraphs ago. But wait, there’s more.
This is only Friday. Had the weekend off then on Monday I had a phone consultation with a different doctor. I’ll return to this in a moment. Bet you can’t wait to discover what this was about but it resulted in a Thursday appointment from which I have just returned.
Tuesday I went to a more benign foot clinic. This was quite pleasant (I got my toe nails nicely cut and given I’m definitely at the stage when, as somebody said, I’ve reached an age when I cut my toe nails I wonder if there’s anything else I can do while I’m down there). So pleasant enough, apart from the poster on the wall about the ‘falls team’. Do you have 3 or more of the following 5? Three? I scoff at three, I’ve got all five apart from the Parkinson’s bit and I’m coming to that.
Wednesday, a day off other than dinner with the friends I moaned about a while ago. I know you expect me to say I’d rather go to the foot clinic but actually they were OK (apart from him correcting my French). So on to Thursday’s visit to the second doctor. I mean I repeat, I haven’t been to the actual surgery for months and then twice within a week. You got to smile.
This, in my thinking, was the big one. Am I developing Parkinson’s or is it just more of the essential tremors? Parkinson’s is my great fear more than the other big ones that could kill me. I may of course regret saying this but for now I’m nervous about this visit and its focus.
Anyway long story short. She (the doctor) doesn’t think I have P but no harm referring me to a specialist (another one). Hmm, is this her way of avoiding breaking bad news to me? I wouldn’t do that she says, just better to be certain. She also shared my blood test results – all OK except for my diabetes (remember that?). Would you make an appointment with the receptionist on your way out? Of course I’ll see if I can fit her in to my medical schedule.
Back to the Parky examination. I did feel compelled to mention my self-diagnosed sciatica as I thought it might negatively affect the toe-heel walking she asked me to perform and which I found very hard. This possible sciatica has been extremely debilitating this last week. It seemed to start last Thursday after a day of working in the vineyard on uneven ground with a lot (for me) of bending down and stuff. This seemed to inflame my haematoma acquired last winter when I fell on the ice – twice on the same spot – my left hip. I can’t quite work out why, given this has lain dormant for six months, it should now start to cause me extreme pain. Anyway she didn’t fall for my attempt to roll two problems together and so I left.
The final encounter of a medical kind is tomorrow and concerns this same possible sciatica. At 8.15 I’ve booked an appointment with a masseuse up at the local PE college, otherwise known as Leeds Beckett University. I think this is going to hurt a lot. These massages seem to hurt when you’ve nothing wrong with you so Gawd knows what this one will be like.
You may have to wait to hear how this went as I need to finish this little tail of pain and strife today (Thursday) to get it ready to post on Friday. I imagine those of you that are still reading this retirement blog might be relieved that I haven’t time to write any more. I can only say that I hope my sharing gives some people out there a degree of comfort in that they are not alone with their health issues.