Hospital Adventures™

This post brought to you by morphine and tremadol! Might be somewhat disjointed and rambling.

Weeeeeeeell then. As most of you know by now, complications arose from my foot surgery at the benighted Valley of the Hutts hackorium I mean hospital, and after a few days of resting up at home I got a pretty nasty foot infection... signs of gangrene which is one of those words that no diabetic ever wants to hear, ever. All those jokes I've made over the years about my dick/limbs falling off, basically were about the dangers of getting gangrene as a side effect of the Beetus.

Sooo yeah. Tamsyn insisted we head into the A&E after she came to bed at 2 am and found me still awake with painfully twitchy feet. After a six hour wait they took one look at my toes and suddenly it was action stations with exciting montages involving X Rays and being trollied around and given morphine and people screaming that it couldn't possibly be lupus.

Eventually I ended up in the Short Stay Ward, which let me tell you is a great form of entertainment after sitting on a couch going stir crazy for the better part of a week. My bed and curtained off area was smack in the middle of the action, so I got to watch people running past and witness the hijinks of other patients which included:

• Lecherous Geriatric Moustache Poet, who talked in a gravely voice and serenaded this poor Filipino nurse with lines that sounded like they were lifted from a song by Guns and Roses, calling her his rare desert flower. Because when thinking of the Philippine islands, large tracts of desert is certainly what comes to my mind. 
• Eldritch Samoan Gurgling Man, who slept a lot. Poor old guy was pretty sick I think, and made the weirdest collection of gurgles, grunts, squeaks, honks and coughs I'd ever heard. And just to outdo himself, when he was awake he would very loudly crunch away on ice cubes with an air of quiet contentment. 
• Lazy Eyed Colostrum Nurse who not only tried to force the temperature gauge brutally in one ear and right through to the other side and was generally just a bit weird, but who also very furtively when noone else was around tried to hook Tamsyn and I up with an underground colostrum ring, who had 'meetings' and 'would fix my toes right up' with their magic cow squeezings.   

At three AM one morning, a doctor and two nurses tried taking Moustache Poet off to get a CT scan, and the old guy leapt out of bed and put on this hilarious upper class academic accent, and very loudly told them that "my solicitor has h'advised me not to have h'a scan performed due to the dangerous rays that these infernal machines produce!" I semi consciously told him to sod off and shut up, which one of the nurses may have heard and may have laughed at quietly. 

After three days in the Short Stay Ward, I was moved upstairs to the Vascular department, where Vascular people do Vasculary things. I have a room of my own, which is nice and means more sleep at night, and a lovely view of the massively shitty weather outside. I've been hooked up to an IV drip for six hours a day, which is delivering a transfusion (I like that word, sounds a bit like transformer) that is spreading out the blood cells to more easily get down to my feets to facilitate the healing process. At the earliest I'll be getting this until Wednesday. No idea what happens after that, but presumably if all goes well I'll be able to go home. 

The downside of the transfusion is that it makes me feel a bit nauseous, so I'm gonna sign off for now and have a lie down, and let the magical solution do its thing inside my veins. 

Bye for now.