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Saturday, August 09, 2003

Thursday wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. That is to say: it was better than going for a poo and having green Gatorade shoot out like I was a human Super-Soaker or something, which pretty-well sums up Wednesday afternoon and evening.

I turned up at the CMC with Geraldine (my mother-in-law) at 9am on Thursday and was told to go straight to the Gastro-intestinal Ward (I had given all my insurance details over the 'phone so there was no paperwork). The staff there were most helpful, telling me what the procedure would be. So I got undressed and put on a green observation smock (leaving on my watch, socks and a silver bracelet my dad gave me for my 21st birthday, as instructed). I had a saline IV put into my left hand and was then wheeled into the examination room.

The doctor explained the procedure again, I signed a waiver, and we were ready to roll. I was lying on my side, looking at my readouts (they had now hooked me up to an O2 sensor for molecular oxygen, ECG stickies were placed on my arm and chest for my pulse, and a blood pressure strap periodically squeezed my right arm). A syringe full of relaxant was introduced into the IV and I was told that I would feel a little detatched and relaxed. I took another look at that readout. Blood pressure at 125/80 (nice), pulse around 62 (nice too), oxygen reading at the tip of my finger at 100% (perfect)...

...a-a-and then the relaxant hit my brain. I raised my head slightly and said "whoo, I feel a little woozy now"...

...then ninety minutes passed and I woke up in different surroundings. "A little detatched and relaxed" my foot!

The doorway I came through was replaced by a curtain. I could see other beds. OK, I was in a recovery ward. I broke wind... they use compressed air in a colonoscopy and I was told to expect this. That's when I looked at my watch. A nurse approached me and asked if I'd like anything so I asked for a cup of tea with milk and sugar. My first taste of sugar in two days. I felt fine so I was allowed to dress and Geraldine took me to Wendy's for my first food in nearly 48 hours. I was woozy for the rest of the day. That part was GREAT!

So now I'll tell you what the doctor discovered. I have an internal hemerrhoid. Nothing serious or life-threatening, thankfully, and now I have to take these little Hydrocortisone Acetate things. Prescription name: Anusol. They feel waxy when you unwrap them and they melt at just below body temperature. They're bullet-shaped and I have to put them where the sun don't shine, in case you hadn't figured that out yet. It's a ...novel experience, it has to be said, and one I thought would be much worse. But then again, I was never the sort of person that put anything up their bottom as a kid so I didn't know what to expect. Once one is placed far enough inside, my body's natural systems takes over and they are drawn straight in like a dust-bunny into a vacuum cleaner. It makes sense if you think about it: your insides maintain less of an outward push than outside air pressure, otherwise your insides would fall out every time you went to the toilet!

So there we are. One more of life's experiences over and done with. There's a moral to this story too. If you have blood on your crap or on your toilet paper, see a doctor. It may be nothing to worry about. Then again, it may save your life. If this rather embarrasing day's post saves just one person's life then it has done its job.

Listen: Jerry Was A Race Car Driver - Primus.

Wednesday, August 06, 2003

I really should keep this bloody thing updated. In the time I've been otherwise occupied I've missed commenting on a war in Iraq, Kobe Bryant's penchance for the "tradesman's entrance" and the lousiest summer North Americans can remember. Meanwhile, they're dying of heatstroke all over Europe. And I thought I had escaped dreary summers by moving from England.

What I do have to talk about is football (translation: soccer) and arses (translation: asses). Some might voice the opinion that they're one and the same. Everyone's entitled to an opinion, even if it's wrong.



To borrow some words from the band Gomez... "once upon a time, not so long ago, we took a day out in Manchester". Not exactly. We took a day out to see Manchester. Manchester United toured the States and we saw them beat Barcelona 3-1 in Philadelphia's new Lincoln Financial Field. A name they'll hope won't get dragged down the same alley-way as Enron Field. Then our car was almost rammed by some snob in a Lexus SUV and we thought we were going to get lost in the wilderness that is New Jersey (motto: you lookin' at me?) during our detour. As it turns out, we missed a lot of traffic by driving on the other side of the Delaware River.

I just re-read my last post (in MARCH!) and I forgot to mention the Yankees game. David Wells was pitching against the Toronto Blue Jays, and we lost. And the weather was awful. Again. But it was a good day out for all concerned so it all worked out in the end.

Speaking of the end: arses. Tomorrow is a rather interesting day for me because I'm going to get a colon exam. Yes, as my American friends and work collegues would say, I'm "gonna get my ass reamed". The reason: blood on my toilet paper that has me worried sick about colorectal cancer. I haven't eaten anything since 7pm last night (21 hours ago or so) and now I'm drinking a mixture of Gatorade and laxative powder. One 8-fluid-ounce (200ml) glass every fifteen minutes until this two litre bottle of Lime-flavoured stuff is gone. I took two Dulcolax tablets already this morning and my BM has the consistency/smell/appearence of a herd of camels. I had chicken broth for lunch and a bowl of jelly (translation: Jello) for later.

Things can only get better after I wake up from the anaesthesia tomorrow. Then I get to eat chewable food for the first time in 42 hours. Joy! Maybe we'll find a house, 'cos we're STILL LOOKING!

Why don't I tell you what happens tomorrow when I'm up to it?

Listen: 2+2=5 - Radiohead ... Crazy Beat - Blur ... Whippin' Piccadilly - Gomez