Green Lights.

Monday morning, February 25.  Today was going one of the most significant days of my life.  I got into my car and looked at the clock.  Green digital clock indicated 9:20 A.M.  Plenty of time to get to the hospital for my 10:30 A.M. appointment to get the results of all my tests.  I set off on a journey I'd become all too familiar with.

I really hadn't been giving the appointment much thought.  I lived in the now and tried to keep busy with positive distractions.  Driving there, I had a whatever happens, happens attitude.  No matter the outcome of my test results, I knew I could handle it.  If it be the worst result,  I'd take it in stride and see what course of action was needed.  And a best result would give me the urge to sing, dance, drive down to the Houses of Parliament, rush in and say "Hey Prime Minister David Cameron, have a look at my butt."

Okay, where was I?  Oh yeah, so I'm driving along and each intersection that has a traffic light is green, all the way to the hospital.  Can't ever remember that happening to me.  Maybe the green lights are a sign   A precursor message to what the results of the tests would reveal.  At 9:47 A.M, I park up near the hospital.  Wow, that was quick and no, I wasn't speeding.  Thank you, green lights.

Plenty of time to check into the Main Building at the hospital that does remind me of a departures terminal of an airport.  I get my ticket that has the directions to get to the clinic where I will see the urologist.  I sit there, stare at the screen, waiting for my flight number, sorry, my appointment number to show up on the screen.

Finally on the screen, along with a recorded announcement, came my turn.  "Patient 1680, please go to Subwait 3."  The urologist came to the waiting area and summoned me into his office.  "And how are you today, sir?" I inquired.  After exchanging a few pleasantries, we went over the test results.  I sat there wearing my usual silly grin.  Remember Gary, whatever happens, happens, I thought to myself.

He stared at the computer screen.   I stared at the computer screen.  MRI prostate scan, all clear.  Ultrasound prostate scan, all clear (no, not pregnant for certain).  Prostate biopsy, all clear.  No "hostile cells".  Just a bit of irregular gland swelling in the prostate area that was a bit of a mystery but not a concern.

Thus, from all the tests, I have a provisional diagnosis of bladder over-activity.  I have been given a subscription for some pills that hopefully will counteract a urinary urgency.  I was told that I should take them at a time that best fitted with my schedule.  Evidently you can variate the times.  And in reference to the times, he said "You can play with them a little bit."  To which I responded, "Are we still talking about the pills?"

Um, moving on, I was told that an ongoing blood test would be needed every three months or so.  This is to check my "PSA"  (Prostate-Specific Antigen) to monitor any disparities that can cause concern.  And oh no, I was told to reduce my coffee intake.  What?  I like having my eyebrows stuck to the top of my forehead.

Seriously, you know you should get checked on a regular basis to make sure your health is okay.  We can all too easily put off that appointment with the doctor because we are embarrassed, worry about our dignity.  Yet, at what cost?  I knew I couldn't put it off any longer and the challenge I have gone through has, I hope, I pray, brought inspiration to those who have been neglecting to have their health checked out.

Heading home, I got red lights all the way.  Did I care?   Heck no.  I got green lights on the way to the hospital and green lights from my tests.  Thank you for coming along with me on this journey of the fears I challenged.  The biggest fear was going out and I did it.  Oh yes I did.

A Fair Assessment Of The Week That Was.

Tuesday, February 12, MRI scan.  Wednesday, February 13, ultrasound.  Thursday, February 14, prostate biopsy.  Yes, three straight days visiting the hospital.  Three days of mixed emotions, worry, stress and laughter to cover my fear.

Now it was Friday morning, February 15 and I was driving to attend to a medical assessment done on behalf of the government by a private healthcare company named "ATOS".  A very quick turnaround from the day before.  I was sore, uncomfortable, nervous, exhausted.

I'd read the stories, watched the news.  The reports coming back from the medical assessments of people too ill to work, were outrageous, horrifying.  The agenda set by the government is to get as many people of incapacity benefits as possible.  This has meant that there have been numerous cases of people deemed fit for work who could not possibly work.  Their disability benefits stopped and their lives thrown into turmoil.

I parked up and headed for the building, preparing for the worst but maintaining my composure.  The building is located between a well known ghastly food restaurant and a franchised computer company.  So, with an "Unhappy Meal" in one hand and a new laptop under my arm, I bravely entered the healthcare building.  "Would you like a fry?"  I asked the receptionist.  Ignore all that.  I had a stressful week.  I actually went straight into the building.  Well, using the door to get into the building.  Enough already.

That would be after a brief conversation with a very irate guy outside totally aggravated by his treatment and how he'd had several heart attacks and was deemed fit for work.

Deep breath.  The receptionist was polite and directed me to the waiting area.  I looked around and sadness, rage, a growing resentment towards this evil British government surged through me.  Yes, there was the lady barely able to walk, being comforted by the lady with her.  There was the scared young man sitting on his own until his support worker came and sat beside him.  And there was the frail old man, aided by two crutches, his partner and the healthcare professional, as they slowly guided him from the waiting area to an office down the hallway.

And there was me, alone and worried.  I shuffled around the waiting room and thought about how inspired I was knowing so many thoughts from you on the other side of my computer screen, had come my way.  A gentleman escorted me to his office for my medical assessment.  You might note the photo at the top of the posting.  Such was the quick turnaround from being at the hospital the previous day, I still had my hospital wrist tag on.  I also had my paperwork tucked inside my hospital patients bag.

This gentleman, was kind, courteous and he came across as compassionate.  Upon looking at my series of tests on my clearly instructed appointment letters, he immediately went and photocopied them.  He didn't even want to see my other overwhelming evidence that I'm not well.  He told me that I had given him more than enough proof and he would forward it onto the Department of Works and Pensions.  The DWP make the ultimate decision.   I'm not naive.  I know that all sorts of hassles might transpire.  I shall remain positive that justice will be served from the outset.

With that, realising I was in discomfort from my prostate biopsy, he ended the assessment very quickly.  "Please go and get some rest and have a pleasant weekend", he stated.  So now we wait for the results of an assessment I shouldn't of had and so many vulnerable, sick, disabled and scared people, should neither of had to go through.

That was the week that was.  I have witnessed mankind at its finest.  The NHS gets full marks for kindness, caring and efficiency. As I mentioned before, the NHS contacted me via a comment regarding a concern I had.  This is the comment :

"Dear Klahanie,

We've read with interest your experience of using our services from your blog, and enjoyed the humour with which you write. We are particularly interested to hear how we could improve the information and the services we provide. If you would like to meet with us to discuss this, or any other hospital related subjects, please contact Hannah Gibson, patient experience lead, at Hannah.gibson@uhns.nhs.uk.

Kind regards

Andrew Ashcroft
Senior Communications Manager
University Hospital of North Staffordshire"  

And bless the NHS.  Yes, they acted swiftly on my concern in regards to the vagueness of an appointment letter.  I'm very proud of this.  An example that we can make things happen.

Now, David Cameron, so called Prime Minister of Britain, shall you be making note of my concerns about the way your inhumane, immoral government is treating, the vulnerable, the sick, the poor, the disabled?  Yes, you call it austerity measures.  That would be where the unfortunate pay for the mistakes of the incompetent fortunate.  I await your comment, Dave.  After all, you say, "We are all in this together."

Through the week that was, I saw the good, the kind, the caring.  Through that week I sensed a solidarity, a unity against the adversity so many of us here are experiencing.  That inspires.  Through that week, this virtual recluse, challenged his fears, did it with dignity, humour and by the weekend had become a better man.

Now, this better man, a reflective man who has gone through emotions of such extreme, awaits for the results of all the tests.  Monday, February 25, the day I should finally know.  I thank you profoundly for your thoughts, wishes and prayers.

A Snip It Of My Life.

I shall try my best to type this.  Somehow managed to wrench my back and the pain earlier was excruciating.  And, before you ask, I didn't actually use a wrench or any other type of tool.

Valentine's Day, Thursday, February 14 and the third straight day of my hospital tests.  Tuesday, February 12, MRI scan.  Wednesday, February 13, ultrasound.   I knew this would be the most memorable Valentine's Day of my life.

My appointment was scheduled for 4:00 P.M.  The consultant being aware that I was early, brought me through before my scheduled appointment time.  Not only did she tell me what the procedure would entail, she thanked me for my input in regards to the vagueness of an appointment letter I'd received.  "Oh, did you read my blog post about it?", I asked.  She said she had and that they had a meeting about the way my appointment was phrased and have rectified the clarity of the appointment letters.  I have the proof of this with the very detailed and clear appointment letters I have received since.  I was very proud of that and also showed that blogs can bring awareness.  Well done to the NHS for taking such swift action.

Valentine's Day, a snippet, or a 'snip it' of my life.  Oh yes, this was prostate biopsy day for me.  I was taken to a waiting area where I got to sit in a really comfy chair.  A nurse came and took my blood pressure.  A few minutes later, a very polite gentleman who was going to check me out, directed me into the biopsy room.  I sat on a chair by his desk and he gave me a thorough explanation of the rest of the procedure.  With him, were two male assistants who put me at ease and we exchanged pleasantries.  Well, when you're lying on your side, are anticipating a probe up your butt, a distraction is most welcome.  "Any hobbies?"  The chap doing the biopsy asked of me.  "I attempt to do a bit of blogging.", was my response.  "Don't really know what to make of blogging.", he said.  My reply as I tried to breathe gently was, "I sort of consider it an email to the world."

I was informed that when he got to the bottom of things, they would be taking 12 samples of my prostate,   I said I thought that was a bit "greedy."

A few minutes later and the end was in sight.  A few minutes later and after some initial discomfort, the biopsy was over.  I was taken back to the comfy chair and one of the assistants asked me if I would like a cup of tea or coffee.  I declined and about 30 minutes later he asked me if I felt like I was okay to go home. Feeling quite okay, I was directed back to the entrance of the clinic.  At this point, the nurse with the strong Northern Irish accent who had been mentioned in the posting that lady consultant had read by me, where I joked about her referring to me as "Mr. Perrick", noticed me.  "Hello Mr. Pennick.", said the nurse with the strong Northern Irish accent.  I replied, "Happy Valentine's Day to you!"  "And you, Mr. Pennick.", was her reply.  Oops, paranoia now kicking in, I start to wonder if she read that posting.  If she did and she, per chance, reads this, "I was only kidding!"

Forget about chocolates and flowers on Valentine's Day. Can't think of anything more enjoyable on Valentine's Day than the experience of having a tube with some kind of snippy thing that sounded very much like a stapler shoved up my butt. Yep, much more fun than having chocolates and flowers shoved up my butt!

I'm rushing this posting for two reasons.  First, the painkillers working on the wrench in my back are losing their effect.  Second, I'm trying to get this published on February 21 and I started this posting an hour ago.  So, all the typos will be corrected at a later time.

And today, February 21, the joy of six.  What a posting to write on the sixth anniversary of my blog.  And speaking of prostate biopsy, this post has reached the bottom.  The end.....

My Ultrasound. A British Weather Map?

Last week was one of the most hectic, most challenging, most exhausting weeks of my life, both physically and emotionally.  This posting is about day two, Wednesday, February 13.  Day one's posting in regards to Tuesday, February 12, if you didn't read it or if you're interested, can be found here : A Scan Of Mine.

Last Wednesday was a 'bonus' day visit to the hospital.  On the Monday, I received a phone call from a very  polite lady at the hospital asking me if I could attend the X-Ray Unit for an ultrasound.  I wasn't about to turn down another opportunity at getting an ultrasound.   Perhaps this might give conclusive evidence as to whether I was actually pregnant.

I headed out from Leek, Staffordshire to the hospital in the early afternoon.  A few flakes of snow drifted gently down.  Nothing to worry about.  Half an hour later, I arrived at the X-Ray Unit for my ultrasound.

I was directed to the ultrasound waiting room where there were a number of doors with the word, not surprisingly,"Ultrasound", displayed on them.  I sat there waiting patiently along with all the other expectant mothers.  "How far along are you?", stated one mother.  "Pardon me?  Oh no, don't think I'm pregnant.  Just getting confirmation that I'm hopefully not!", I replied. Okay, I made that up.  It was to check me out while having a full bladder.  Gosh, that was fun getting filled up before arriving at the hospital and having to hold on, well mostly hold on....

Into one of the ultrasound rooms I went.  Two lovely nurses went through the procedure with me.  Then, oh yeah, I got the cold jelly on my belly.  The one nurse probed the top of my belly and I was rather enjoying the experience.  I never saw the image of my ultrasound, but I reckon it would of looked rather similar to a typical British weather map.  Cloud followed by more cloud with a trough of low pressure battling against a high pressure ridge.  A few minutes later and it was all over.  I thanked the nurses and left the hospital.

It was now getting late in the afternoon.  What had been just a few flakes of snow a couple of hours earlier, was now a full-scale blizzard.  A blizzard right at the beginning of "rush hour".  Driving along at the dizzying speed of about ten miles an hour, I inched along the treacherous roads. Then it suddenly got warmer and then colder again.  Now the roads had turned to ice.  This brought everything to a standstill.  As this point, I wished I brought along my ice skates, hockey stick and puck.

In such awful conditions, it was fantastic to see how all of us motorists cooperated with each other, kept a safe distance apart and let traffic merge in.  You can get such unity in the face of adversity.  Indeed, a half an hour drive there.  Over two hours getting home.  To think, this was my bonus day at the hospital and a memorable journey home.

These are unusual times and want to apologise to those folks who I said I would promote their books.  I haven't forgot.  It's just the exhaustion over the last few weeks has been catching up with me.  I know you will understand.

Tomorrow, February 21, I'm going to post up my experience of my third straight day at hospital.  Yes, it was Valentine's Day and one I soon wont forget.  To end this posting, I can finally confirm that I'm not pregnant....