Its been a bit of a week. After a busy and enjoyable weekend of visitors, I thought I'd just overdone things a bit. However, to spare the gory details, I ended up arriving at hospital on Monday with severe stomach pains and feeling really groggy. Things were becoming the wrong colour - my skin was taking on a definite yellow hue - and other secretions - oh but we don't need to go there.
Now our local hospital is not the best place to be when you're feeling poorly. I've discovered that. Sleepless nights full of disturbances, food served up when you don't really want it. Lack of any information as to what is happening. On the second morning I'd just started forcing down some porridge when the nursing staff came rushing over asking how much I'd eaten, and that I was meant to be fasting prior to an MRI scan. OK then. It wasn't a huge dissappointment to surrender my Redy-brek. I waited and waited. Around lunchtime the doctors appeared to prod my tender tum again. And at their departing remark that the scan would be the next day, well, I .... got a bit cross.
Next day, after a better night's sleep thanks to some earplugs and eyeshades, brought in by a very attentive and concerned (and exhausted, poor love, Mr PL), said scan took place. At least I've discovered I'm not claustrophobic. Not at all. The scan was really not bad, just rather boring. I'd been asked to maintain a very steady breathing pattern, and found myself nearly falling asleep instead! Afterwards I was told I'd done really well.
Back on the ward I decided to make myself feel human again, got dressed and enjoyed a bit of lunch. Later, when my next door neighbours had kindly dropped in to visit me and we were chatting away, nursing staff rush over again telling me to don yet another stylish hospital gown as I was going for an ultrasound scan imminently. First I'd heard of it. So off we all went to the X-ray department and we continued our chat whilst I waited to be seen. And so the scan went as one would expect - cold jelly on the tum, that sort of thing. Then back to the ward again with a sticky midriff.
I'm now thinking, well, it's three o'clock, there's no way I'll get home tonight (I was actually feeling a lot better by this time) - there'll be reports to be evaluated and stamped and checked and catalogued and cross-referenced and so on - when a doctor appears. The MRI scan had revealled a fairly conclusive diagnosis of a liver condition (which I'd been told some years ago I may or may not have, so it was no great suprise.) I'd be referred to a liver specialist for further evaluation and could go home for now! "And what about the ultrasound scan result - does that show anything?" I ask. "Oh, I don't know who requested that." he replied, almost absently. There's our efficient NHS for you!
That was all yesterday. Slept like a log last night. Wonderful. I've had a quiet day - feeling a bit tired still and keep falling asleep, but my digestive system seems to be improving, as is the jaundice. I did feel a bit self-concious when I popped out shopping as I glanced in the car mirror and looked a bit more yellow than I thought I'd been.
Of course I've been googling my condition and it appears that the chap I've been referred to is one of the country's leading experts on it, so that's good news. I'm feeling positive.
My skin is slowly turning pink again and I'm left wondering whether there was any significance in the fact that I bought that lovely pink and yellow crysanthymun last week. Like me, it changes from pink to yellow!