So, this lump thing I have on the base of my spine. After my last post railing against the injustice of getting old, turns out that I didn’t in fact have a bad back, but instead had a lovely abscess making itself at home.
Early Thursday morning the pain was just too unbearable. I woke up about one after rolling over on my lump and getting woken up by a short, sharp jab of pain. Walking into my bathroom, I tried to look in my mirror at my back to try and see my lump. After getting myself into positions that a contortionist would be proud of, I still couldn’t get a good look at it. I then came up with the wonderful idea of using the video camera on my mobile to film it.
I have to say the footage was great, it was almost like a film as the camera swooped slowly over my lower back, Spielberg would have been proud. I almost considered posting it on YouTube with the 2001 soundtrack playing and a Morgan Freeman voice over. But I still couldn't get a good look at my lump to see how bad it was.
Sod this, I thought. I need to get to a hospital. So at around three in the morning I booked a cab to take me to Romford A&E. When I arrived I knew I was in Romford because there was a drunk guy wandering around mumbling bollocks into his beer can, which he kept clutched tight to his chest with a Kung Fu grip, while a trail of blood splattered the floor leading up to the reception desk.
“Hello,” I said to the tired looking receptionist. “I have a large lump at the base of spine which is really hurting, I think I need to get it looked at.”
She motioned me to sit down and I waited to see a Doctor, all the while hoping that the Doctor wouldn’t be female, hot, or Brazilian. The chances of there being a hot Brazilian Doctor working in Romford A&E were slim, but knowing my luck this would be the time when one would be working on a secondment, traveling to the poorest countries to see how Third World Healthcare operates, and I would have to drop my trousers in front of her.
Lucky for me my Doctor was male. For some strange reason this made me feel better about dropping my trousers in front of him. I somehow seem to have got my priorities all wrong on this, haven't I?
Upon seeing my lump the Doctor made a kind of “Hmmmmmmmmn” noise.
“What is it?” I asked him.
“You have an abscess I’m afraid, and its quite a nasty one. I’d like you to see the surgeon today if possible.”
“Yes, we have to drain it and then remove it.”
Now I’m not a great lover of operations. Due to my hearing problems, my whole life has been a session of operations and procedures to keep my hearing at a good level. So I try and avoid them whenever I can. But this Doctor was adamant that i would have to have this done.
Eventually I was led up to a hospital ward where I was given my own bed. After waiting around for a few hours I eventually saw a surgeon. After examining me he told me that I probably wouldn’t be able to have the operation today and would have to stay over night. Now this really wasn’t an option for me as I had no overnight stuff, hadn’t showered, and there was no one there to feed my cat (all poor excuses, but they are the only ones I have), so I asked him if it was possible to come early tomorrow to have it done as the operation would only take about half an hour.
The surgeon agreed to this and then suggested that he drain the abscess to make my night a little bit more comfortable. After lying me on my front, he then pierced my lump with a needle, causing a small jet of fluid to arch prettily from it like a delicate water feature. It wasn’t very nice.
The best thing about being able to go home was that I was given Codeine to take home with me. I like Codeine, it makes everything better. I could have had small pixies emerging from my lump, playing fiddles and dancing merry jigs, and I was so high that I probably wouldn’t have batted an eyelid. Codeine rules.
When I got to the hospital early next morning I checked in at reception like I was told to. And brilliantly for me, the guy behind the desk failed to tell anyone that I was there. So for four hours I was sat in a hard plastic chair, my lump leaking and hurting, and my mood getting steadily worse. When they finally realised that i was there for a reason, a young intern took me aside and began to question me as to why I was there, not having a clue who I was, why I was there, and what was wrong with me. Now she was obviously new and didn’t really have a clue what she was doing, and therefore scared the shit out of me. She unsuccessfully tried to take blood from me about five times, missing veins, spilling the blood over me, and jabbing me more times than a pincushion. She then tried to put a tube in my hand for a drip, fucking this up about three times as well. In the end I snapped, stood up and told her not to worry about it, and walked out the hospital, aiming to get the treatment done privately through my work.
So now I have to wait until tomorrow to find out what hospital I am going to. Luckily the lump seems to have gone down quite a bit and isn’t as painful as it was, but I still need to get it opened up and cleaned out otherwise it will just come back again.
I don’t like abscesses very much. I have given it a name though. My abscess is called Colin, and with luck, by tomorrow Colin will sod off and leave me alone.