In Which I Considered Screaming

Being under sedation is not as sedate as you might think. Yesterday, the evil NHS told me that I couldn't eat ever again, or was it that I wasn't allowed to eat less than six hours before the surgery? I should probably look into that. Anyway, they clearly heard that my stomach had a case of the rumblies so they sat me down next to the tuck shop, full of all manner of sweeties and crisps and ginger beer and such. Clearly, food was on my mind a little bit, so I asked the attending what the hospital which sweetmeats and cheesy comestibles they were to lavish upon us- I say us as I was in a group of six and we'd individually be led off to the surgeon's room (in which I considered screaming, to freak out the other patients). Nursey told me that they would provide me with toast and tea- standard, fair enough. But I was in the hospital to look for nasties and to confirm that I had coeliac's disease. Toast make coeliac sufferer go bad. I pointed this out to them, and said I'd nip off to the tuck shop and get some of the bad stuff for later and promise not to run off crying with hospital gown and all. However, not only had the NHS made a point of shoving me next to all the beautiful sweets they knew I couldn't have, they decided to close it as soon as I needed it- this would have been around 15:30 on a weekday, the bastards. ANYROAD, it seems that they had literally never encountered a person having an endoscopy to see if they're allergic to gluten, as the only food they offered would be the sort that launched a world of hurt upon "picky eaters" like myself.  Let's say for argument's sake that they do 10 endoscopies a day (It's plenty more than that). Considering that one in 100 people in the U.K are thought to be gluten intolerant, that means that the hospital would only have started doing these procedures for around the last two weeks. If you can come up for a better explanation for why the nurse was given the runaround with five different departments, please furnish me with it. It's the infrastructure that's the issue, not the staff. All the staff were luvverly, even the surgeon until he jammed what felt like a Scalextric set down my gullet.

Endoscopies- we can go all night long, baby

They'd done all the business of putting one of those valve needle jobbies into my hand in which to inject the sedative later on. I'd specifically asked for the sedative rather than the throat spray anaesthesia because I'd heard horror stories about that, and did from the other five who were there with me. Having the sedative is a wee bit more risky, but I was confident I'd made the right choice. It's meant to send you into a sort of stupor, so that you're still vaguely aware of what's going on around you- I was painfully aware. Apparently shoving things down your throat makes you gag. A lot. In that moment, I managed to get past the not inconsiderable pain and be grateful for the nil by mouth regime they'd stuck me on. The alternative would be drowning in my own sick (which at the age of 27 would give me something in common with Jimi Hendrix et al). As I made reference to before, the sedative didn't really seem to take hold. Apparently most people are incapable of walking unaided afterwards, whereas I seemed to be leaking bon mots. I have come to the idea that it was in fact a stimulant. It would explain why my throat seemed to be battered to shreds, and it would explain why I sashayed out of the hospital like a more manic Maria from The Sound of Music. It would also explain why I forgot to take my hospital gown off and looked like an escaped mental patient. But no matter. Yesterday was the first time since spring that I tried to win a bottle of Cava off of D by scoring a Frank Lampard freekick on Pro Evo 2008. Yesterday was the second time I won a bottle of Cava off of D by scoring a Frank Lampard freekick on Pro Evo 2008. I might even trade both in for one bottle of actual Champagne. My reaction was a little different from D when he hit that immense golf shot- as you should remember, he squealed with delight. I cried with laughter instead. D just cried. He thinks the hospital injected me with a stimulant as well, and has now stipulated if he ever lets me round his again that there will be random drugs tests in various sessions of playing Pro Evo. Finally, a boney fido reason for him making me wee into a cup around his. If he ever lets me round again.

Today's Tune