Part-Ode To Getting Hospitalisationed

I woketh up with a sore throat and extra-tight chest,
Not exactly poorly, but not feeling at my best,
The Porcelain Throne found another abscess!
Work the ailments off; that would be best…
So I hand-washed the jumper and brown vest!.

When the shirt was finished being washed,
I saw the pots from last nights lone symposiast…
On the draining board, messy, unwashed!
Dropped the plate onto my toe it crashed…
So, I made a start on the blog, unabashed!.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Change of Plan!

Upon seeing the twinkling lights at their prettiest…
I got out the Canon camera for a photo fest…

I tried to take some close-ups, appreciate them to the fullest,
Two came out looking the nicest…

Good work from the local Christmas lightists!
Ah, spotted some more; this one made me feel chuffed!.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Carer Richard Arrives!

Onto the computer with the freshly brewed tea,
I didn’t pour it on it, just took it with me… Hehe!
An hour or so later, the door chime rang out to tell me…
Carer Richard had come to look after me, medically!

It seems that I must have looked worse than I felt this morning. For the lad was deeply concerned at my pastier than ever, face and violently shaking limbs! Which was appreciated. I explained about the sore throat and tight chest and had a job to stop him from calling for the paramedics at first.

When he gave me the medications, he saw the tablets coming back up fin the throat and out of the mouth onto the floor. (The missing teeth make it hard to stop them when this happens. Haha!) I still didn’t feel poorly, just out of sorts, but Richard phoned someone (111?) for advice. They, whoever it was, suggested he call for the paramedics. I explained further about my not feeling really bad, the food delivery that was due, and a call from Gill was expected, so I was not keen on missing them. When the medicine came back up, he called the ambulance for me. Bless him!

The food delivery arrived while we were waiting. Richard put the stuff away for me, and paramedics arrived. To chaps gave me a good going over. And ECG, temperature, and Blood Pressure. They recommended I go with them straight away to the Queens Medical Centre. I was still a midge reluctant, but Richard and the ambulancemen all thought it necessary, so I gave in.

My not being used to having three people talking simultaneously, a fair fluttering of flusterationing made me a little confused about what was going on.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Prepping for the Journey!

The Walker would be needed, the medic was not too keen on it,
I relayed how much easier it is than relying on a walking stick,
One of the men conceded but was worried it going missing…
“You’ll be moved about on a trolley for hours. I’m not kidding!”
“So many get stolen, or at least go missing!”
“It’s pandemonium in there… don’t mean to be discouraging!”
“But we can take it with us, and, to save you worrying,”
I’ll put an ID badge on the walker-guide thing!”

He did Too! How kind was that! Great! Thanks, Mate!

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Arrival At The Queens Hospital

Paramedic chaps got me and the trolley to the A&E Emergency,
Waited in a corridor, on an uncomfortable wonky trolley,
I was pleased when the others moved swiftly…
But they slowed down somewhat, busy place, much activity…
All cubicles full got the first examination embarrassingly…
As they checked me for Covid, outside a lavatory!
Then they checked my rear end… deep in the cavity!
In the corridor, I exposed my protection pants and more…
Whatever they were using left me sore…
I’ve no idea what they were looking for!
My embarrassment, beyond repairability,
The depths of depravity!

© 09:30hrs: Moved Into Main Room – Then a bare Corridor

They had a queuing system that would baffle you at best…
Each time I was moved a few feet, it was never less…
The walker-guide, but, they were busy I guess,
I had to ask for the trolley each time; I think I was an optimist?
I reckon I wee them off; they did look pissed!
Then, out into a corridor again, all bare, not the prettiest!

Corridor Back Into the Main room

Aha, I nodded off; they woke me to give me attention. Over the next four hours, I had two ECGs, blood tests, Warfarin blood test, and Blood pressure was taken, and I fell asleep again. They woke me moving the hospital trolley again, and I turned to look for the walker-guide, and someone was rifling through it at the far end of the room, and it was a big, cram-packed with people, room! Other trolleys were moved, and I lost sight of my special trolley…

It took me over half an hour to find someone who would talk to me, but I found out she was coming to me anyway. She humphed, sneered, and went of to retrieve the Walker for me. She was back in a minute and crammed it betwixt my arm and the divider wall. She was not a happy gal at all!

To my amazement, she got out the ECG and BP stuff again?
I bravely asked her, “Are the other readings not right then?”
She calmly replied: “Nae, we lost them…”?
Adding, rather wittily, “Yer can’t expect fings to be Utopian!”
And she never spoke to me again!

The Noisy Moaning Git!

By now, ten hours or so, I’d been in here, innit?
But I was not feeling in the slightest antagonistic,
In the trolley in front, a chap getting verbally vitriolic…
His tackle on view, he was getting verbally athletic!

I could No Longer Stay Silent!

Mouthing it, scratching his balls, wearing no underwear!
“I’ve been here half an hour – nobody’s seen me, taint fair!
I said: “It’s a hospital, not the Mayfair”,
He swore back at me; I said in answer…
I’ve been here for ten hours clear…
So, give them a rest, or I’ll give you a vestibulocochlear!
Amazingly he quietened down, and folks gave a cheer!

That word stayed with me for some reason, not sure what it means. Something to do with Peripheral Neuropathy, I think. No one was more surprised than I was when he quietened down. I was expecting him to get up and attack me. Mind you, I was ready and prepared.

He made me so angry. Even two medical staff thanked me! Hahaha! I got a cup of tea and some biscuits.

Lady Doctor From Cardiac DVT Clinic Visited me!

Basically, she reported that the Warfarin INR level is satisfactory, and the mechanical aorta-valve is doing its job! I thanked her!

A nurse arrived to do yet another ECG & Blood Test

I dare not make any comments, although she was a lot friendlier with me this time?

My trolley was moved around for the next two hours

An A&E doctor came to me and said You’ll be allowed to go home shortly, and they have arranged a lift for me. Great!

Seven trolley-moves and an hour later…

A young lady came to collect me and the two trolleys in a white coat and took me into another department to await the lift being arranged for me. Given another cardboard cup of tea and more biscuits. At least now, being out of that haemorrhoid-testing big trolley and in a chair, I can drink and dunk with less hassle from Neuropathy Pete’s shakes.

As I fell in love again, I inquired of the white-coated buxom young lady; I have not been for a wee for 19 hours. Is there was a WC I can use, please. Only if you need a wee, no closets are available here, as you are not allowed back in the treatment room again. Oh? I confirmed that I only needed a pee, and she gave me a cardboard urine pot and told me where to go to use it. So, I did!

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Taxi Home

An old ambulance took me home, not a taxi,
A man and daughter team, jolly nice folkski,
We had a good natter en route, socially,
The chap came up to the flat with me…
Offered him a nimble or plonk, to thank him dearly,
Beer & Tequila, his choice, Cheers he said appreciatory,
Using the loo, he departed; I think his name was Hughie.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

I had to get the itching ECG pads off

Coor, that’s betterer!

Food, the next task!

Very Tasty! Baked bean and cheese pastie, a BBQ beef burger and a pot of lemon mousse with spray cream, lots of it! Gorgeous!

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Medicated A Few Areas

No more notes on the writing pad

I must have fallen asleep?

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Part of The Nottingham Lads True Tales of Woe In Rhyme

Evenin’ all! ♥

16 thoughts on “Part-Ode To Getting Hospitalisationed

  1. Timothy Price – I specialize in daily art, documentary and promotional photography. If you have a special event such as a musical production, play, concert, etc. or have a product or fashion that you need photographed, or you are a performer, musician and artist in need of promotional photos please email me or call.
    Timothy Price

    When I first read “I woketh up” I thought oh no! Old Inchy’s not going “woke” on us. But you eased my mind with your description of your rather bloody awful day at the hospital. So after losing all your results, and having to redo them, nothing more than an unexplained sore throat and a super bladder? No wee for 19 hours? Your back teeth must have been gasping for air. How many cardboard cups did you fill?

    • Inchcock – Nottingham. UK. – 73 years of age, pretty ugly, short, bald, pot-bellied, in ill health. Decaying physically and morally. Metal ticker, Duodenal Donald, Saccades-Sandra, Arthur Rheumatoid Itis, Hernia Henry, Hard of Hearing Hank, Bad eyesight Boris, Reflux Roger, Peripheral Neuropathy, Nerve Neurotransmitters Not-working Wendy, Bladder Cancer Chris, Stuttering Sandra, Haemorrhoid Harold, Shaking Shaun, Dizzy Dennis... there are others, but I've tired myself out, now! Hehehe! Oh, then I had a stroke! Now awaiting Cataract & Glaucoma operations. Tsk! Failures, Accifauxpas and Whoopsiedangleplops are my Forte... Hehehe! I love making folk smile when I can. TTFNski!
      Inchcock

      Aha, Worra day, Tim. Loved you “Your back teeth must have been gasping for air!” bit. Brought a rare smile to this confused old timer. Hehehe!
      I can’t recall how many, mate. But the first one filling in seconds I remember, cause stopping it, was so damned painful! Also, the young buxom lass nurse, had to keep going out to get rid of the urine so often, she left me with about ten more to use, while she was emptyingthe first few, and the llol of sheer joy when she returned to me for umpteenth time, I told her… “That’s it, all done!” – was magic, the relief in her face matched mine, I think. When I got back and treated ambul;acne man and he’d left, I had the pleasure of just weeing, but it still sprayed all over the place. Still, it’s over now. Tsk! Cheers, Sir.

      • Timothy Price – I specialize in daily art, documentary and promotional photography. If you have a special event such as a musical production, play, concert, etc. or have a product or fashion that you need photographed, or you are a performer, musician and artist in need of promotional photos please email me or call.
        Timothy Price

        Maybe 19 cups? One per hour? You made the young buxom lass work hard, Good you’re back home.

      • Inchcock – Nottingham. UK. – 73 years of age, pretty ugly, short, bald, pot-bellied, in ill health. Decaying physically and morally. Metal ticker, Duodenal Donald, Saccades-Sandra, Arthur Rheumatoid Itis, Hernia Henry, Hard of Hearing Hank, Bad eyesight Boris, Reflux Roger, Peripheral Neuropathy, Nerve Neurotransmitters Not-working Wendy, Bladder Cancer Chris, Stuttering Sandra, Haemorrhoid Harold, Shaking Shaun, Dizzy Dennis... there are others, but I've tired myself out, now! Hehehe! Oh, then I had a stroke! Now awaiting Cataract & Glaucoma operations. Tsk! Failures, Accifauxpas and Whoopsiedangleplops are my Forte... Hehehe! I love making folk smile when I can. TTFNski!
        Inchcock

        I went drinkless for the first few hours, Tim, after big mouth got me noticed, then they started to offer me tea from then on. Hahaha!

      • Timothy Price – I specialize in daily art, documentary and promotional photography. If you have a special event such as a musical production, play, concert, etc. or have a product or fashion that you need photographed, or you are a performer, musician and artist in need of promotional photos please email me or call.
        Timothy Price

        That dry hour probably saved your back teeth from drowning. You know the teapee rule of three? For every cuppa tea you pee three.

      • Inchcock – Nottingham. UK. – 73 years of age, pretty ugly, short, bald, pot-bellied, in ill health. Decaying physically and morally. Metal ticker, Duodenal Donald, Saccades-Sandra, Arthur Rheumatoid Itis, Hernia Henry, Hard of Hearing Hank, Bad eyesight Boris, Reflux Roger, Peripheral Neuropathy, Nerve Neurotransmitters Not-working Wendy, Bladder Cancer Chris, Stuttering Sandra, Haemorrhoid Harold, Shaking Shaun, Dizzy Dennis... there are others, but I've tired myself out, now! Hehehe! Oh, then I had a stroke! Now awaiting Cataract & Glaucoma operations. Tsk! Failures, Accifauxpas and Whoopsiedangleplops are my Forte... Hehehe! I love making folk smile when I can. TTFNski!
        Inchcock

        Oddlimost enough, Tim, tosay has been a use the bucket job, out of fear of not making it to the loo on time. Amazing hpw when you mention summat, its just happened? Hehehe! Bill’s got that skill, too!
        Tonight, chips – I mean fries! And no guilt! Well, mayhaps a smidgeon. Haha! Keepeth safe, you and yours, please.

  2. Wot a bunch of hospital adventures, mate. Good to keep the liquids up to have the urine available for all those who find urine of interest. Nice that you are not far from the local hospitality center, ours is a mere 2 miles away. I’m heading there Wednesday to obtain a read on the old INR.
    Lisa and I once spent an entire evening queued up in an emergency room corridor. Not an easy place to sleep when occupying a stretcher, and with all the lights on. Entertainment provided by an old fart who doesn’t have underwear under a gown, all the easier to scrath those ball though. Glad that an applause broke out when he was distanced from his audience.
    A nice smiley-faced mark on yer arm. Yer might want to obtain a tatoo there after it heals.
    Good weeing to you!

    • Inchcock – Nottingham. UK. – 73 years of age, pretty ugly, short, bald, pot-bellied, in ill health. Decaying physically and morally. Metal ticker, Duodenal Donald, Saccades-Sandra, Arthur Rheumatoid Itis, Hernia Henry, Hard of Hearing Hank, Bad eyesight Boris, Reflux Roger, Peripheral Neuropathy, Nerve Neurotransmitters Not-working Wendy, Bladder Cancer Chris, Stuttering Sandra, Haemorrhoid Harold, Shaking Shaun, Dizzy Dennis... there are others, but I've tired myself out, now! Hehehe! Oh, then I had a stroke! Now awaiting Cataract & Glaucoma operations. Tsk! Failures, Accifauxpas and Whoopsiedangleplops are my Forte... Hehehe! I love making folk smile when I can. TTFNski!
      Inchcock

      According to Mr Google, it is 4.2miles (13 mins) by car (which of course I no longer an allowed to drive). I imagine its th e same by ambulance, Hehe! I did a check on by public transport, that came out as Ihr-43mins. Hopeth your INR is good again, Sir.
      Despite me telling them to use the right arm, as hte left os the only good one and used much more… glad I remembed to tell them that. The used the left four times and the right three times. Out hospitals are crumbling.
      I’m amaxed the big needle didn’t cme out of the other side of my arm, hehehe!
      Humira still working, Sir?
      TTFNski HRH & Professor Billum.

      • Good to know the distance from the wooded thorpe to the hospitality party. But if yer have a window view, then yer could count poles and calculate the miles in Holmesesque fashion. Check the passengers while in yer vehicle for a Watson. It is always to show off yer mettle to fellow passengers who likewise marvel at yer deductive magik. Check yer watch frequently and calculate in a very cinvincing manner. Act like yer know wot yer about and confident as 12 year-old lad.
        I often wonders if those needles are designed to intimidate and thereby solidify yer controls over proles and plebes.
        The Humira continues to intimidate my Crohn’s, a malady that likes to have its way with pouting, screaming, and cursing yer cursedness to everyone within earshot.

      • Inchcock – Nottingham. UK. – 73 years of age, pretty ugly, short, bald, pot-bellied, in ill health. Decaying physically and morally. Metal ticker, Duodenal Donald, Saccades-Sandra, Arthur Rheumatoid Itis, Hernia Henry, Hard of Hearing Hank, Bad eyesight Boris, Reflux Roger, Peripheral Neuropathy, Nerve Neurotransmitters Not-working Wendy, Bladder Cancer Chris, Stuttering Sandra, Haemorrhoid Harold, Shaking Shaun, Dizzy Dennis... there are others, but I've tired myself out, now! Hehehe! Oh, then I had a stroke! Now awaiting Cataract & Glaucoma operations. Tsk! Failures, Accifauxpas and Whoopsiedangleplops are my Forte... Hehehe! I love making folk smile when I can. TTFNski!
        Inchcock

        Cheers Willum. I can see the City hospital from the window, Sir. No use, of course, but I might as well bore you this fact as any other, Sir. Hahaha!
        Now have I this right? Keep looking at the watch, and give an odd confident nod of the head, fillow by a smirky smile, and get the pencil out and scribble something on the notepad? Say, half-hourly?
        The fungal lesion started bleeding again a while back, Tsk! I knocked my coat over and tried to retrieve it using the picker-upperer – toen the lining and things fell out of the pockets. It was the bending to get those cack that done me, methinks. Carer was in a rush, and the food delivery arrived at the same time – I am puddled, muddled and poddibly addled… but only if that is theright word I was looking for.
        I’m waffling well again. Just posted the blog that I should have posted in the morning… I’d better add puffled to the list as well, Sir.
        I hopeth with all my hopabilities, that Humira continues as per it is, and HRH Lisa will recieve kind treatment from Sweet Morpheus. Keepeth safe. ♥
        .

      • Mr. Google knows how to reckon the distances and the means of transport, such as stagecoach methinks. Dog sleds?
        The INR test is set for Wednesday at 1:45 (in the afternoon, there were no open slots at 1:45 AM). I am studying as hard as I caneth to arrive at a proper result. Here is one possible question: “Declare a number between 2.0 and 2.9”
        I am all set to inject my next Humira dose this coming Friday. They have approve me through 2022 and allow 90-day supplies o’ the stuff. Seven jabs in all, four in the arm yer requested. A crumblearama.
        If you maketh a snide remark to “that certain breed of nurse” you mighteth receive the injection in the eyeball. The question being: “Do you prefer the left or right eye?”
        TTFNski to yer kind self, Sir Inchster!
        Adios muchachos 🙂

      • Inchcock – Nottingham. UK. – 73 years of age, pretty ugly, short, bald, pot-bellied, in ill health. Decaying physically and morally. Metal ticker, Duodenal Donald, Saccades-Sandra, Arthur Rheumatoid Itis, Hernia Henry, Hard of Hearing Hank, Bad eyesight Boris, Reflux Roger, Peripheral Neuropathy, Nerve Neurotransmitters Not-working Wendy, Bladder Cancer Chris, Stuttering Sandra, Haemorrhoid Harold, Shaking Shaun, Dizzy Dennis... there are others, but I've tired myself out, now! Hehehe! Oh, then I had a stroke! Now awaiting Cataract & Glaucoma operations. Tsk! Failures, Accifauxpas and Whoopsiedangleplops are my Forte... Hehehe! I love making folk smile when I can. TTFNski!
        Inchcock

        Mabye the ICeland and Canadian version may have dog sleds on it, Billum? Hehe!
        I note that we have… whats the word? Erm… ‘connected?’… matched, coincidented again? Our medicalisationings arrive in the same week again!
        What is your INR target, Sir? Mine is 3.1 , I think.
        Spot on with nurses ther Bill, gaveth me another laugh, I fanks You.

      • Those dog sleds cover much more ground than the cat sleds. ’tis hard work to get a team of cats to follow orders.
        My INR target is 2.5. Hope to see that number on Mittwoch.
        It maketh my day to bring yer a larf, the equivalent of a 2.5 INR as I view it.

      • Inchcock – Nottingham. UK. – 73 years of age, pretty ugly, short, bald, pot-bellied, in ill health. Decaying physically and morally. Metal ticker, Duodenal Donald, Saccades-Sandra, Arthur Rheumatoid Itis, Hernia Henry, Hard of Hearing Hank, Bad eyesight Boris, Reflux Roger, Peripheral Neuropathy, Nerve Neurotransmitters Not-working Wendy, Bladder Cancer Chris, Stuttering Sandra, Haemorrhoid Harold, Shaking Shaun, Dizzy Dennis... there are others, but I've tired myself out, now! Hehehe! Oh, then I had a stroke! Now awaiting Cataract & Glaucoma operations. Tsk! Failures, Accifauxpas and Whoopsiedangleplops are my Forte... Hehehe! I love making folk smile when I can. TTFNski!
        Inchcock

        Indeed, one feline to get semi-partly-a bit trained is beyond mans capabilities. Har-har!
        Why is mine different? Only joking.
        I sall urge my desires through the ether, and do my bestest to ensure your INR is with range, if not spot on this time, Goode Sir.

      • Sending yer wishes worked wonders, Sir! I thought the INR was scheduled for the morrow, rather, and in accordance with you wishes. The actual appointment time is TODAY (TUESDAY) at 1:45 — 6:45 Ham of the Notting time. So now I shall be timely in my showing-up-ages. Aiming my Robin-Hood arrow at target number 2.5

      • Inchcock – Nottingham. UK. – 73 years of age, pretty ugly, short, bald, pot-bellied, in ill health. Decaying physically and morally. Metal ticker, Duodenal Donald, Saccades-Sandra, Arthur Rheumatoid Itis, Hernia Henry, Hard of Hearing Hank, Bad eyesight Boris, Reflux Roger, Peripheral Neuropathy, Nerve Neurotransmitters Not-working Wendy, Bladder Cancer Chris, Stuttering Sandra, Haemorrhoid Harold, Shaking Shaun, Dizzy Dennis... there are others, but I've tired myself out, now! Hehehe! Oh, then I had a stroke! Now awaiting Cataract & Glaucoma operations. Tsk! Failures, Accifauxpas and Whoopsiedangleplops are my Forte... Hehehe! I love making folk smile when I can. TTFNski!
        Inchcock

        Bestest of luck, Sire Billum!

Leave a Reply Cancel reply