# Sick



## Clave (Nov 29, 2007)

I just got back home today after being in hospital since Monday. I have diverticulitis which basically inflammation of the bowel, and not very nice. I have been pumped full of antibiotics now and hopefully will get back to normal in a few more days....


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## Becca (Nov 29, 2007)

Oh. I hate to read that, Clave. Feel better, soon.


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## Erich (Nov 29, 2007)

no kidding, hang in there Clave just found out a close friend got the same diagnosis................barf ! it sucks

E


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## Bucksnort101 (Nov 29, 2007)

Good luck. Having had something very simular I can understand what you are going through.
I wish you a speedy recovery.


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## Lucky13 (Nov 29, 2007)

Wish you a speedy recovery matey...


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## Marcel (Nov 29, 2007)

Get well, soon


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## ccheese (Nov 29, 2007)

Sorry to hear this, Mate.... I thought that diver-stuff was for old folks
(like me) ? Hey... get well soon....

Charles


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## Wayne Little (Nov 29, 2007)

Clave , get well soon!


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## lesofprimus (Nov 29, 2007)

Been there, done that Clave.. Hang tough...


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## Clave (Nov 29, 2007)

Thanks guys - I'm keeping my fingers crossed that it will go away, and I'm going to change a few things that I eat (and don't) 'cos it is a nasty bastard...


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## Bf109_g (Nov 29, 2007)

Hope you'll feel better soon, Clave


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## evangilder (Nov 29, 2007)

I hope you feel better soon, Clave.


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## Gnomey (Nov 29, 2007)

Best of luck Clave.


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## Njaco (Nov 29, 2007)

Relax and take it easy Clave. Hope you get better.


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## Wildcat (Nov 30, 2007)

Sorry to hear that Clave. Hears hoping for a quick recovery!


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## Downwind.Maddl-Land (Nov 30, 2007)

Baah! You’re a Brit! No wusses allowed. Cold shower, tighten the bandage, large snifter, stiffen the upper lip and bite the nurse on the bottom. Go to it……..

(Decodes as “Get well in time for Christmas – trust you’re feeling better by the day”)


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## lesofprimus (Nov 30, 2007)

Clave, diet is very important.... I went through the whole gammit of colon issues, from Diverticulitis to Pollups to Colon Cancer....

I am now blessed with the incurable Ulcerative Colitis, and thats a big treat as well.... Like I said, diet is the key... Unfortunatly, I dont listen to my own advice sometimes, and pay the price...


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## Matt308 (Nov 30, 2007)

The worst part was getting over the pride/ego thing and letting the world inspect your bum. Anal fissure here. Blew an O-ring. And when the pain reached about a 9, you just don't care anymore. I yanked my pants down when the admin nurse came in. Unfortunately for her, all she wanted was my signature of consent for the surgery.


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## Vassili Zaitzev (Nov 30, 2007)

Sorry to hear that Clave, get well soon.


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## AVRoe (Nov 30, 2007)

Get well soon. Your from the East Riding, if you do´nt get better soon i`ll stand the drop of York,


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## comiso90 (Nov 30, 2007)

Get well soon... we want to see more art!


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## Downwind.Maddl-Land (Nov 30, 2007)

Matt308 said:


> I yanked my pants down when the admin nurse came in. Unfortunately for her, all she wanted was my signature of consent for the surgery.



 

Could have been worse: If you'd had a W tatoo'ed on each cheek it would have been a WOW!

I'll get me hat and coat


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## Matt308 (Nov 30, 2007)

In HIND sight that would be funny. However, at the time I was a miserable SOB.

Get better Clave.


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## Screaming Eagle (Dec 1, 2007)

damn sorry to hear that clave, get well soon mate.


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## DOUGRD (Dec 1, 2007)

Like everyone else here Clave, I hope you have a speedy and full recovery with as little discomfort as possible.


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## DerAdlerIstGelandet (Dec 1, 2007)

Dito. I hope you have a full speedy recovery man.


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## Clave (Dec 2, 2007)

My NHS Report

Sunday

I woke up at 7am on Sunday morning, not unheard of, but this time it was with a stomach-ache. I didn’t think too much about it except that it was quite strong, and didn’t vary in intensity at all. Took various remedies that I had to hand, but they had no effect at all, neither did painkillers. A couple of times I broke into a sweat and was convinced I was going to throw up, but I didn’t, and eventually went to bed exhausted.

Monday

After a very bad night I awoke with much worse pain, I was almost unable to walk and realised that I had to see a doctor ASAP. I hobbled down to the car and headed to the surgery, dropping the Mrs off at work in passing. I sat in the waiting room for about an hour and then saw one of the doctors. After examining me he told me to sit and wait while he called the ambulance to take me to hospital. I was slightly shocked at this but he explained that I either had Appendicitis or Diverticulitis. 

The ambulance came and they were nice and helpful guys and pretty soon I was whizzing to the hospital about 10 miles away. Then I was in the clutches of the Surgical Assessment Unit, which is basically one step down from Accident and Emergency – the place you go if you are not actually bleeding to death on the doorstep. There are half a dozen or so beds there, and I get wheeled in and allocated a free one. It is very busy, but quite soon I am sitting in bed answering a million-and-one questions while a nurse fills in stuff on a sheet. A crash victim comes in after a few hours with a broken pelvis, followed by many relatives, and two police officers, and I think that maybe I’m not that badly off after all.

It’s too hot and stuffy though, and the air is dry, so I hobble slowly outside and get some air, have a cigarette and make a call to the other half on my mobile phone. I get examined and asked more questions and have various needles stuck into me, and mostly I feel bored, I have nothing to read, no TV, nothing to listen to, and even though it’s only 8pm, feel like it’s bedtime, and doze for a while. The evening and night pass slowly, it’s too hot and noisy to sleep well.

Tuesday

I am in a different ward now, one of the more normal ones. There are six beds, all occupied now that I am there in the corner. The pain is ok as long as I keep still, and I can walk about, slightly hunched over, and very slowly. I make another trip or two outside once the doctors have prodded me some more, and realise that an eighty-year-old lady with sticks can out-run me, it almost makes me laugh, except I know that would hurt too much. 

The ward is again too hot and noisy to get much rest. I am desperate for reading material and eventually make it downstairs to buy a motoring magazine. I also have no toothbrush, deodorant, shampoo, or any of those things you take for granted when at home. Time is completely disjointed now, the minutes drag past, but the hours seem to suddenly vanish, the guy in the opposite corner has another burst of insane muttering, and in the next ward someone is coughing very loudly. It’s not that which bugs me, but the added exclamation –cough- OH! –cough- OH! Over and over again, with nobody seeming to take any notice.

I get wheeled downstairs for an x-ray. There is a moment as I get pushed into the lift, when I realise that this is a production line process, it’s just that when you are in a lift, you always turn and face the door, and I was pushed in up against the wall like I was some piece of unimportant material in transit. You may think I’m being over sensitive at this point but try it for yourself. Next time you are in a lift, go and stand near the back facing away from the doors – it is quite unnatural.

I am beginning to wonder if the Mrs will be able to get all the way out here (she doesn’t drive) when suddenly there she is. She comments on the heat and smell in here, and I am so happy to see her, I just try not to cry. She is a wonder, and brings all the things I was lacking as well as books. Books! I’m just certain I can handle things better with some distraction, and it proves to be so. She has to leave after three hours to catch the bus back home, and we say goodbye.

Night is horrible, even with the fan on, it is too hot, and there is still too much noise to rest well. I wonder how long-term patients ever manage to get enough rest to make a full recovery, and sleep fitfully until 8am when the lights are switched on with full brilliance like football match floodlights.

Wednesday

More doctors, and they are still uncertain, the pain is no better or worse, and I mostly refuse Paracetemol as I know it’s bad for the stomach. And they decide I need to have an MRI scan later on. People get wheeled out, and more come in, there is a new guy next to me, a young white kid, looking about as pale as anyone I have ever seen. Near to the door is a black man, maybe 30, very calm looking, and at the foot of his bed are no less than three officials sitting in chairs in a semi-circle. They are Immigration officers I am guessing, and I wonder if he is dangerous in any way, or just a slippery customer.

The other three are all old boys. The muttering man, still mutters and says he is going home despite being bed-bound with his toes all bandaged up – it looks as though some are missing. The man opposite me is really old, but cheerful and quiet too, compared to me he can practically sprint from place to place. The centre guy is yellow, I mean that he is a white man, turned yellow. He has lots of consultations, and is very nervous about everything, but also quiet, so that is good.

Mrs comes by again in the afternoon with another book – I have read three complete Terry Pratchett’s by this time, and I’m grateful to get a thick volume of Stephen King short stories. We talk quietly about this and that, and before long she has to off to catch the bus again.

They decide that the x-ray was inconclusive, so I am sent for an MRI scan. I’m still attached to various drip feed things, but they are disconnected for the time being. I get wheeled downstairs again and once more sit in another queue. It’s not so bad now that I have something to read, and after a while I’m lying (painfully) on my back while being pushed into a blue doughnut, which is apparently a hi-tech scanner.

I get wheeled back to the heat of the ward, and lie down, but it’s not comfortable, the rubber-covered mattress is just below the sheet, so I take everything off the bed, and put a blanket in between. My stomach is not hurting so badly now, and I ask for another pillow as my feet need something underneath them most of the time. I just start to drift off around midnight when the Immigration men start talking to each other! I am furious but try to stay calm, and they go quiet again. Then the muttering man starts off, followed by the coughing man down the hall. Somehow I fall asleep and in my head I’m redesigning the place so it doesn’t suck quite as bad as this.

Thursday

Different doctors come round and explain that the scan confirms I have diverticulosis but the good news is that I can go home! I have more needles stuck in me, but the hated ‘octopus’ (drip attachment) is finally pulled out of my arm. I gather my stuff into a bag and sit and wait. Eventually I am signed off, and wheeled down to the discharge lounge, feeling happy to be free.

When I am finally home later that afternoon, it is a joy – TV, computer, quiet and comfortable chairs to lounge in, there really is no place like home. I sleep in the blissfully softness of my own bed for eight hours and wake more refreshed than I have done for days.

Friday

Mooched about just enjoying being home and with the other half. Watched a lot of junk on TV, ate a bit more, but warily, still feeling weak. Phoned the doctors to see if my car was ok still being in their car park, and the receptionist just said I could collect it ‘as soon as I felt better’ so that was fine.

Saturday

I still feel drained, but most of the pain is gone, I have a few more antibiotics to take yet and most things I eat taste wrong, but I feel better than the day before. I got a taxi and collected my car, and that was enough effort for the morning. I shall collect the Mrs from work later as the weather seems to be brewing up for a real storm. It’s really, really, good to be at home…


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## Clave (Dec 2, 2007)

Sorry for the long post but it seemed worth doing, and thank you all for your good wishes... 8)


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## comiso90 (Dec 2, 2007)

Your strife aside...

You have a unique talent

You have a real gift at descriptive writing and expressing yourself. Creativity comes in many forms. Your precise, technical representations of warbird profiles are produced by a different part of the brain then your detailed account of your experience. 

Your talent is rare. Many illustrators aren't so expressive.

Write the next Lord of the Rings with Mosquito's and Ju-88's locked in mortal combat!

Congrats on feeling better!

.


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## Lucky13 (Dec 2, 2007)

WOW!! Was breaking out in sweat, pain and everything as I read your post Clave....
Great to see that you're feeling better and that you're back in comfortable home again. Hopefully that will be the last that you see of that "production plant" they call hospital...


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## FLYBOYJ (Dec 2, 2007)

Hope this is now the road to recovery. Get well soon!!!!!


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## ccheese (Mar 10, 2008)

Hope this is the end of the pain, hospital, doctors, nurses, and all that crap.

Stay home, drink warm milk and make love to the missus.

Get yourself well. Damn.... you're too young for that stuff !

Charles


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## Thorlifter (Mar 10, 2008)

Dang Clave, I just ran across this thread. Sorry to hear of your troubles and I hope the doctors get you squared away quickly. 

If they admit you again, get the Mrs to bring you your laptop. We miss getting more profiles! ha ha ha.

Get well soon.


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## AVRoe (Mar 10, 2008)

ccheese Stay home, drink warm milk and make love to the missus.
Make love not war. Get better soon old chap from the bottom of my heart


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