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I am solved!
Aug. 30th, 2007 11:04 amI'm in a much better mood than I was in yesterday, which was abject misery. After posting, I headed over to the RMH, whereupon I sat in the waiting room for over four hours – FOUR HOURS – which isn't my idea of "a little bit of a wait". I sent a couple of emails from my phone in my extreme boredom and discomfort, and spoke to Steph a couple of times.
After three hours, I spoke to the young man at the triage desk as politely as I could, and asked how long it was going to be, and whether I could go for a walk (as it felt as though the Day of Judgement, the Second Coming, Ragnarok, or whichever End of Days you prefer was going to come before I was attended to). I had not yet had any lunch, as I had no cutlery on me (for the want of a nail ...!), no money for the vending machines, my small water bottle was empty, and due to the limitations of movement placed on me by my ribs, I was getting very stiff and sore sitting on their plastic unpadded chairs. He said that there were eight people before me. I said that was surely going to take another hour or so, and I must have time for a walk. He said that if I wasn't in the waiting room when my name was called they would simply strike me from the list.
With that unpleasant thought, I stepped into the airlock beside the waiting room and phoned Steph, and,like a champion astride a white charger, brushed aside all my protestations and came down to the hospital to be with me. She even brought cutlery.
I had just opened my lunchbox to begin to eat when my name was called. It is very lucky that the young man who finally attended me was both very agreeable and of pleasant countenance, for I was of a mind to be incredibly rude. He, as my doctor was before him, was quite incredulous that I had not taken any painkillers or anti-inflammatories (I'd had one Panadeine the night before, and an aspirin the previous Saturday; the aspirin was actually to help the monstrous headache I had, though, as we were going out to dinner). Hmph. I frequently deal with muscular pain nearly this bad on a regular basis, due to my chronically stiff muscles. The pain had really only reached unreasonable levels in the last few days. He offered me painkillers, and Steph said I ought to have them. I was quite cheerful in their wake.
The doctor determined, at length, that I did indeed have pleurisy; in fact, had such an exemplary case that a medical student was summoned to listen to my lungs. I felt quite like J. and his lack of housemaid's knee. And then, even though I had several x-rays on Monday, though I had both the report and the CD of the films with me, I was to have more x-rays. The doctor reassured me that I would have more radiation from an international flight than from an x-ray, though I feel that's rather a condemnation of international flying than a resounding recommendation of the x-ray. At any rate, since Sunday night I have flown all the way around the world twice. At least the x-ray technicians at the hospital were suitably shocked that I had six x-rays on Monday. I only had a further two yesterday, which showed nothing.
Finally, I was dispatched, on a happy cloud of drugs, and with a prescription for both painkillers and anti-inflammatories. The painkillers gave me strange sensations all the way down my back (I think it was my muscles, which have been far worse than usual due to my contortions from pleurisy, going numb), and a light head. When we got home Steph put me to bed, and I dozed lightly for the next hour or so.
And that night, to top it all off, Emma came around and we had pizza! which was lovely, as I'd been craving it in the waiting room.
I have made an icon from my first set of x-ray results (they didn't give me a CD of the second set). I don't know why, but I found several of the x-rays strangely beautiful.
After three hours, I spoke to the young man at the triage desk as politely as I could, and asked how long it was going to be, and whether I could go for a walk (as it felt as though the Day of Judgement, the Second Coming, Ragnarok, or whichever End of Days you prefer was going to come before I was attended to). I had not yet had any lunch, as I had no cutlery on me (for the want of a nail ...!), no money for the vending machines, my small water bottle was empty, and due to the limitations of movement placed on me by my ribs, I was getting very stiff and sore sitting on their plastic unpadded chairs. He said that there were eight people before me. I said that was surely going to take another hour or so, and I must have time for a walk. He said that if I wasn't in the waiting room when my name was called they would simply strike me from the list.
With that unpleasant thought, I stepped into the airlock beside the waiting room and phoned Steph, and,like a champion astride a white charger, brushed aside all my protestations and came down to the hospital to be with me. She even brought cutlery.
I had just opened my lunchbox to begin to eat when my name was called. It is very lucky that the young man who finally attended me was both very agreeable and of pleasant countenance, for I was of a mind to be incredibly rude. He, as my doctor was before him, was quite incredulous that I had not taken any painkillers or anti-inflammatories (I'd had one Panadeine the night before, and an aspirin the previous Saturday; the aspirin was actually to help the monstrous headache I had, though, as we were going out to dinner). Hmph. I frequently deal with muscular pain nearly this bad on a regular basis, due to my chronically stiff muscles. The pain had really only reached unreasonable levels in the last few days. He offered me painkillers, and Steph said I ought to have them. I was quite cheerful in their wake.
The doctor determined, at length, that I did indeed have pleurisy; in fact, had such an exemplary case that a medical student was summoned to listen to my lungs. I felt quite like J. and his lack of housemaid's knee. And then, even though I had several x-rays on Monday, though I had both the report and the CD of the films with me, I was to have more x-rays. The doctor reassured me that I would have more radiation from an international flight than from an x-ray, though I feel that's rather a condemnation of international flying than a resounding recommendation of the x-ray. At any rate, since Sunday night I have flown all the way around the world twice. At least the x-ray technicians at the hospital were suitably shocked that I had six x-rays on Monday. I only had a further two yesterday, which showed nothing.
Finally, I was dispatched, on a happy cloud of drugs, and with a prescription for both painkillers and anti-inflammatories. The painkillers gave me strange sensations all the way down my back (I think it was my muscles, which have been far worse than usual due to my contortions from pleurisy, going numb), and a light head. When we got home Steph put me to bed, and I dozed lightly for the next hour or so.
And that night, to top it all off, Emma came around and we had pizza! which was lovely, as I'd been craving it in the waiting room.
I have made an icon from my first set of x-ray results (they didn't give me a CD of the second set). I don't know why, but I found several of the x-rays strangely beautiful.
