A disappointing setback

Last night was distressingly painful as the new wound opened further as I sat updating my blog, and then discharged even more when I came to get ready for bed. I wasn't sure how to handle this sudden change and phoned NHS Direct. Shortly after midnight I was put through to a nurse practitioner who quizzed me thoroughly before reassuring me that I was doing the right things, and visit my GP as soon as I could.

I slept badly, the way you do on a dreaded long haul overnight flight, and Clare very kindly went to the surgery and secured an appointment for me. The time clashed with my arrangement to say Mass at St John's for Fr Mark. He'd delivered his set of keys yesterday evening, and at five o'clock, I had one of those 'what if?' moments and emailed him to say I wasn't sure I could make it - which turned out to be precisely correct. Clare delivered the keys back to  the Rectory after visiting the surgery, while I slowly got up and got ready to appear in person. It was raining, but I felt better for being out in the fresh air. 

Having taken note of my vital signs, she saw that the surgeon's letter of response to GPs concern expressed, offering me an appointment, was already readable on the medical network. The surgery, like me, has yet to receive a paper copy. The doctor suggested a third visit of this week to the UHW Surgical Assessment unit. I explained it would possibly entail a long waiting time when I would unless I got lucky be obliged to sit in discomfort on a hard waiting room chair. My vital signs would be recorded again, it would be explained to me yet again that emergency surgery wasn't preferable to an operation planned to deal with the complexity of the problem. In their general terms of reference, despite the pain and stress I'm coping with, it's not sufficiently life threatening enough to warrant a 'quick 'n dirty' response. I just have to keep living with this and coping.

Anyway, she was quite understanding of this and prescribed for me another course of 'deep tissue' antibiotics which seemed to make a difference last time around. The nature of the new wound makes me more at risk of infection, so this is a preventative measure, that will hopefully see me through Christmas and New Year. I was advised it'd be unwise for me to travel with Clare up to Cheltenham for this evening's Carnival Band concert, in which she is singing with a scratch choir. I've hear her practicing her parts daily for the past three months. So sad not to hear it all come together. We had an overnight hotel stay booked as well, which would have given us an opportunity to look around and do some shopping before the return journey. Kath will be there to hear the concert, but I have to languish here and try not to feel too sorry for myself.