ianboldsworth

Hospital Log Day 1

Added 2021-11-03 16:30:16 +0000 UTC

Hello there

So that there’s something here, I decided I’d write you a little hospital diary.

I can’t promise great entertainment, but I can certainly assure that there will be a no holds barred logging of all the trauma and upset, which – if you think about it – is actually an excellent tool for making you feel better about yourself. Or something that you can skip past, as I would with my ultra-squeamish head, on account of it being all a bit icky and oversharing.

The pain, to use a word that really does undersell it, began at around 5am on Monday morning. My mind immediately goes to a coin toss between diverticula and kidney stones in these scenarios. You’d think with my wealth of experience I would know straight away, but the introductory symptoms are irritatingly vague enough to prevent that. I had an awful ache below my rib cage, which hurt enormously when I pressed it (that would be a nod toward diverticula, although it is a little high up for either diagnosis). I lay still for a bit, then moved around for a bit, it subsided some, and I got myself back to sleep with a nice panic shrouding me. I woke at 9am with further pain, and made the decision to just get myself to A&E. It’s a fast moving thing once it kicks in, and there’s nowhere better for anybody to be under those circumstances. Got myself a bag packed (which I was later complimented for by a nurse who said “most men don’t think to do that”…) with some bits of toiletries, clothes and my iPad.

It’s not what you want to see really, when your pain is already increasing. I assure you though, this is nowt to do with mismanagement on their side. I was one of very few people in the throng who seemed to comprehend that.

I waited 80 mins to be seen by triage (is that how you spell that?) where they do a quick initial assessment, before being sent outside to the waiting room to begin the six hour wait to see a doctor. I’d already begun to get stupidly tearful at the drop of a hat, obviously prompted by the pain but compounded by seeing – what I deemed to be – some of the worst characteristics of 2021 human nature.

I was clearly in severe, noisy agony, when I first went into the waiting room, and there were no seats. I lent against a wall, puffing and panting, and looked around. There was an Indian lady on her phone (that’s relevant for something later), who’s kid was running around desperate to get some attention from somewhere, an old lady, a young lad in a track suit who was sat like a cartoon hoody, and a youngish girl staring right at me. None of them appeared in any physical distress. In fact they appeared to be rather relaxed.

I started to feel very hard done to that I wasn’t being offered a seat. Then the old lady did. She stood up and said “I think you need this seat more than me”. I asked if she could definitely manage if I sat there (honestly, this wouldn’t have happened under any other circumstance but I was ready to drop to my knees), and she assured me she was. I sat down, embarrassed at taking a seat from somebody so much older, and enraged at being put in that position by the cruel other folk.

I glared at the noncommittals, noticing that the Indian lady did look a little shamed. She then offered her kids seat to the older lady, who accepted, and we were just left with a giddy, ignored child being seatless. The yound cartoon hoody boy was called relatively soon, so I never found out any more about him, but I did find out that the youngish girl was the mum of a child who was already being seen by the doctor in the company of the dad. So mum was just sitting and waiting, all fit and well. Despite there being signs everywhere that no guests were allowed apart from a solitary parent, or a carer for the vulnerable. The dad returned later and then had a row with a nurse about how he should be allowed to stay, calling her awful things. I watched that happen a lot.

Later on, I saw the Indian lady - who I now deemed to be feeling guilty about not offering me a seat, and maybe just didn't notice me when I came in, offer her seat to another lady who was in a lot of pain. The lady turned around and spat "No" at her, before turning away again. A minute or so later, a seat became available and she went and sat in it. Now...I'm not one for jumping to conclusions...but it felt like that. You know. That's why I mentioned earlier that she was Indian. All of these moments had me tipping over to tears every time I thought about them for the rest of the day.

Ater triage (it really doesn’t look right that spelling), I sat myself down for my longer wait, with this adorable view…

The triage nurse had told me it was a long wait, but said if the pain worsened I was to tell reception. Within half an hour, the spasms in my body were in danger of knocking me off the chair. Completely out of my control, and rather disconcertingly rocking me in a very violent way. I was coming round to the kidney stone theory.

When the kidney passes a stone, there’s loads of spasming as it gets pushed out of the kidney and down the tubes to the bladder. This is what the pain actually is, those spasms, which throws up the dreadful philosophy that the pain is actually a good sign because it means the stone is on the move. Each spasm of agony is a step towards it being out of you. I try very hard to remember that as its happening, but heavens…the pain of it.

I dealt with it for another hour, and then submitted to defeat and went back to the desk. The lady said she would get someone, and I leant on a radiator hyperventilating. Not a shred of embarrassment or self-consciousness passed through my head. Far too painful to be putting on a brave face. Grunts and moans and deep breathing were the order of the day, and I didn’t care who saw. My jeans were undone at this point too, with a high risk of dropping to the floor themselves, but – again – couldn’t have cared less. A few minutes later somebody came and got me (or Richard Boldsworth as I have to tolerate being called in these places, on account of my parents going for Richard Ian all those years ago). A few minutes after that I was lay in a bay, with a canula being fitted into my arm (I know, I know, I am wincing too).

In my life, I am resistant to help. It isn’t actually offered from many places, but even when it is, I have a hurdle to negotiate in accepting it. No idea why, and I probably give off that I don’t need it, even when I do. It’s not intentional, nor arrogant, just how I am. I’m big on giving help, or being an ear, all that kind of thing, which also is no use as I end up feeling like a hole that’s being filled and filled with the woes and worries of elsewhere. That attitude always changes to an extent in hospital. Probably because once you are in that kind of pain you’ve nowhere to go but accept the help on offer.

And goodness did they help. I was treated so well, consoled during my regular sobbing (even though I was trying to explain I was mostly upset at the conditions they were being subjected to), and every test they could have done was done. BP, ECG (they even shaved some of my chest so the sticky wouldn’t hurt), X-Rays, CT scan, Pee test, disorientation testing, the full works. One poor girl had to administer a Diclofenac suppository because I was too creased in pain to do it myself. Mind you that was in the car park before I went in. Morphine doesn’t normally work on me, but I’ve only had it orally before. I can now confirm that IV Morphine really does work, and then sends me nicely off to sleep.

You just have to surrender, and I did. I’d be happy to be treated as a piece of meat, but the care was beyond anything I could reasonably expect. One lass rubbed my shoulder at one point, and I burst into tears, telling her it was the nicest thing I’d felt all day. I complimented a lot to be honest. Again, maybe from echoes of what I’d watched in the waiting room.

Eventually I was transferred from A&E into the SAU (Surgical Assessment Unit), which was a huge empty ward by this point (we were very late in the day).

The two nurses on duty sat with me for ages, and I went through the whole tale of what had happened again. At the risk of sounding repetitive, they were amazing. They gave me the confirmation that it was kidney stones, and that I had a 5mm stone which had just left the kidney according to the CT scan.

Which you’d think may be a relief. The phrase “just left the kidney” filled me with dread though, as did the fact that I know from experience what I am now in for as it moves at a snails pace. Pain is your friend though. I keep reminding myself. I had another pain attack whilst in the SAU, and had a big bottle of paracetamol dripped into my arm. Then a big bag of saline. A successful combination in tempering the pain, and I was admitted to the ward.

Which was the same ward I was in the week of the premiere in January 2020, and one that I had huge confidence in from that experience. The first lady I saw I recognised. She didn’t remember me, which is FINE, but we had a lovely chat and she got me settled in. I heard her tell the sister at the desk that I was in and was “really nice”, so we can get that on the movie posters please. The pain was now somewhat under control. Still there, but manageable. The relief of finally being in the ward surely helped too. I was settled, and sleeping soundly between Observation Checks.

(that's a tea not a coffee, and I didn't finish it. I also put this pic on instagram and said that I don't actually have two penises. The joke is worth repeating here. Also the joke about the suppository in the car park was one I used in a text to Jon Williams, so is also reproduced with permission here. It was obviously an A&E nurse that had to deal with my, admittedly hot, bottom.)

I always consider these kindey stone episodes to be rather like getting a flat tyre on your car. It’s never a good time for it and always ruins your day. As soon as it is happening, you know the road reaching out ahead of you, and it's so depressing. All your plans are kiboshed immediately. That’s the stress I spoke of in my last mini post. I had patreon stuff to do, Etsy stuff to post, and was kind of hoping for a moment’s peace after completing the screenings on Sunday. I’m also already dealing with a pretty serious health thing that was already going on, so I’ve drawn a poor hand for this game. I’ve now got to pass a stone. Something that has no definitive timescale, and the only guarantee is that it’s going to keep really hurting till it’s out. Just a really dreary prospective period of time, that’s out of my hands.

This was all on Monday, and I can tell you that I’ve still not passed it. I’ll tell you about Tuesday tomorrow though, but I promise I will skip forward if I do pass the stone in the interim. I’ll probs not bother with a photo of that though.

I also filmed a little thing this morning (could have worded that better, given what I was just talking about), but that’s gonna be a way off being ready to show you as it was prep work for animation stuff. And, as usual, before you shout at me, I am doing nothing that is a pain to do. I’m getting the rest and getting the help, so anything I do manage for patreon has been completely consensual and because I wanted to do it.

Thank you, yet again, for all the lovely messages and well-wishing. I’m not feeling massively up to replying to any messages at the minute (incl texts), but I’ve seen it all and am grateful for your care and support.