We're Not At Home To Mr Cock-Up

So I was in the hospital a couple of days ago for the wee operation. As I sit typing I am still trying to avoid going for a pee as the first time I went it was as if my dick was on fire and I was doubled over in pain.

As I went into the hospital I was nervous and spent some time watching the other patients around me, as I do. One of the first people called through was a foreign guy, and the nurse immediately stopped his girlfriend from following saying she couldn’t come through with the patient. Now it was clear very quickly that she spoke no English but there was no leeway with letting her through, so she was left in reception. Soon after when I was called through and changed into the highly loose gown. Thankfully I’d taken my own dressing gown and slippers. Now I’ll pass comment on my dressing gown just now. I bought it from Next. Large, thick and warm. I noticed on the packaging on the gown when I bought it a couple of weeks ago. It said that “It lets you enjoy living the life you lead”. That’s nice, very comforting, but it’s just a dressing gown. Do they think people will buy it on the basis that it will enhance the ability for them enjoy life to such an extent? I bought it because it was less than half price. Fuck all to do with that slogan.

After I’d got changed I had to call home quickly and when I had completed that I walked up to the nearest nurse and said “Right that’s me ready”, and she proceeded to lead me out of the ward “to get your clothes”. I faltered in my step and said she turned and saw me hesitating. “It’s just through here”. I walked after her while she explained I could get changed now. Now, I was standing in the middle of the ward in my dressing gown and thinking ‘Does she think this is a big coat?’ I said, “No, that’s me ready to go now”. She nodded and walked off a few paces and turned again and said to me “You look confused” and I’m thinking “’yeah I’m confused, you get me changed, now you want to get me dressed again and leave, what the hell are you doing?’.

Then suddenly Ping!, she looks at me and says “You’re just coming in?” “Yes”. I realised later there were morning patients which were still sitting around after surgery and there was an overlap. I was in half a mind to get dressed again and then ask when my operation started and then watch the confusion on her face.

When I got to the new waiting room, everyone was in their dressing gowns, so we were all equally uncomfortable sitting in front of each other. I quite enjoyed checking out the style of dressing gowns and particularly slippers that other people had. I have to admit I had bought a new dressing gown exactly because of this. My old one was a manky old thing and I looked positively poor when I had it on.

The foreign guy was now opposite me and sitting with his legs open, letting me view his lovely paper pants. The nurse was with him and letting him write a note to his girlfriend in what ever language they spoke to let her know when she could collect him. She suggested giving her the phone numbers so she could call in later in the afternoon. It took several minutes for her to realise that giving out phone numbers to someone who spoke no English was potentially a fruitless exercise. As I saw when I left some six hours later the girl was still sitting in reception waiting for him. Now in that situation it would have been so easy for them to bring her through and sit in the patient’s waiting area.

Soon I was taken to a bed and asked some questions by one man, then ten minutes later another guy came and asked me the same questions. Now this second guy had quite a strong Glasgow accent, and normally I can tune in to accents quite quickly but I didn’t know what the fuck this guy was saying. He kept having to repeat himself. He then made a few comments and I partly didn’t know what he was saying or whether he was joking or not so I gave a few nervous laughs and said Yes or No. I hope he wasn’t asking whether I was allergic to anything. That would’ve been a bugger to sort out for the death certificate.

The anaesthetic was nice, a wonderful tingling behind my ears before I popped off although the accent guy may have been tickling me and cracking jokes again. Back in the recovery area I was lying on a bed in between an older man and woman. The guy opposite me had got dressed and went back to the waiting area and ten minutes later they wheeled him back into the recovery area on a reclining armchair……unconscious. He appeared to have collapsed in his seat and they brought him back to put him on a monitor. He came round seconds later, but at one point not long after I was watching him and he did have the pulse monitor on his finger as the doctors were standing around I noticed the screen behind him had a flatline where normally there is the rise and fall. I watched his chest to see if I could see him breathing and I couldn’t. I was becoming a little concerned as I could see two nurses and a doctor standing within feet of him, but with their backs turned, but eventually one of the nurses called his name and he opened his eyes.

Then the old man beside me pulled the curtain around and stared to get changed and in rapid succession he burped and farted, and I’m thinking awww, Jesus, there’s women here. In a entirely male situation it’s probably acceptable, but on a mixed ward, try to suppress it for Christsake.

Anyway the result of my little visit was that the surgeon found two small growths on the inside of my bladder and took a biopsy of one and I will get a further appointment to get the results. He mentioned to me that he had used a rigid camera to look inside and I was thankful that I wasn’t awake for this procedure, especially as he would have had to then pull out the piece of clipped flesh back out along my urethra. Happy days. Meanwhile for the next two to three days I’ve to drink loads of water to make myself piss, which in turn causes a load of pain in my dick, so this will be a fun few days. I still have the use of my fingers to blog though so let’s be thankful.