Hospitalised Again. Getting Boring.

A week after the ‘procedure’ (removing ‘slough’, pronounced ‘sluff’, from the inner surface of the bladder) and all is going reasonably well. Still problematical urinating, but slight improvements daily. Then, spots of blood emanating from the penis. Shit! No urinating. So, at 2 am, I get myself a taxi to A & E.

“What’s up?”, says the receptionist. “Bleeding a bit from my penis”, says I. “Don’t worry. We’ll sort it out. Take a seat over there”. Fortunately, it was a quite night and I was seen for a preliminary chat after about 15 min. I had put into my pocked the tissues which I had used to ‘blot up’ the drips. All I had to do was show the nurse the tissues – not much other explanation required. After another 15 min or so, I was escorted into the A & E area and told to strip from the waist (but I left my socks on), don a gown, lie on a bed and wait. I did not wait long. The staff were great – cheerful and kind. They have some wonderful machines these days. One was a gummage which could be rubbed on one’s tum and which revealed how much urine was in one’s bladder. “Gosh”, said the nurse, “There’s about a litre in there”. I did not previously know that my bladder was big enough to hold a litre, judging from the frequency with which I normally have to go for a pee when in the pub for any length of time. I finished up with a catheter up the willie. The insertion did not hurt as much as I expected, and the urine was drained. A good start. They decided to keep me in for a while and found me a bed around 5 am. I could not sleep, but I relaxed as much as possible. Cutting out several intermediate steps, including breakfast, the urology boss came round about 11 am and told me that I was OK to go home. She told me that small wounds inside the bladder, caused by the removal of the slough, sometimes crusted (aka scabbed over?) and, after a few days, those crusts could break loose and block the urethra. A doctor had previously asked me if I had noticed any clots of blood coming out or the willie, which indeed I had, at the beginning.

Is it not weird that they do not tell you about those possibilities immediately after the op? The staff nurse would not let me go until I had passed urine, via the catheter, which was not there to start with. She was happy to let me go when the quantity of urine emitted exceeded the quantity found to be in my bladder when I went to A & E. But I managed to get lunch before departing. I had minestrone soup and tuna mayonnaise sandwiches, and very nice they were too. I took one sandwich and the sweet, jelly, home with me.

So here I am with a catheter up my willie. It has its good points – no need to go for a pee during the night, or at any other time. I could get use to this.

I hope that readers find my experiences interesting. I was going to talk about how smokers might actually become sufficiently angered to start to create waves. I think that we all know that TobCON is waiting for smoking prevalence to reach some low point, at which point it will call for prohibition. You would think that they would have really, really welcomed ecigs for that reason. Why have they not? The difference is especially noticeable between the UK and the USA. In the USA, there is vehement opposition to ecigs and HNB, whereas in the UK, ecigs have been cautiously welcomed, provided that ownership of them, via regulation, can be achieved by ASH ET AL. There is something of a split at the top there.

Enough for now. Things should get back to normal around mid-Jan when the catheter is due for removal.

 

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7 Responses to “Hospitalised Again. Getting Boring.”

  1. Pammy Says:

    Sorry to hear of your problem Junican,have as happy a Christmas as you can

  2. Rose Says:

    Is it not weird that they do not tell you about those possibilities immediately after the op?

    If they told you before, you might run away.

    Having had something similar done many years ago and being sent home without any painkillers, you have my considerable sympathy.

    But anyway, Merry Christmas to you and yours, Junican and I hope you feel greatly recovered soon.

    x

  3. roobeedoo2 Says:

    Wishing you and your catheter all the very best for Christmas ‚̧

  4. Timothy Goodacre Says:

    I hope Christmas is ok for you Junican. I’ll be thinking of you. In the meantime thank you very much for your excellent writing in 2018. As i’ve mentioned before your blog is the first thing i read each morning !

  5. Smoking Lamp Says:

    Merry Christmas to you Junican! Get well!

  6. Philip Neal Says:

    Sorry to read of your troubles and glad you got out in time for Christmas. Merry Christmas!

  7. junican Says:

    Thank you all for your kind comments.
    The family will have a really lovely time on Xmas day. There will be eight of us for Xmas dinner, which could easily have been eleven had even the closest persons been here (even just grandchildren and offspring).
    Merry Xmas to you all!

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