Today after the best sleep in ages I'm informed that we'd better head out to get the ultrasound sorted. The first ultrasound place is closed. As is the second. The last place we tried was open and within 5 minutes I'm lying on an examination bed which is a foot shorter than me. It is a foot shorter then the bed should be for a reason there is a door way at the end of it. I lift my shirt and the quack puts the cold gel on the hand held part and starts jabbing away. Within 10 seconds he says "you have an infection in your gall bladder" the pain killing injection is wearing off by now and he must be looking in the right place it is exactly where the barbed wire is. I starts pressing harder to get a better look all the time taking snaps with the screen and he eventually points out a stone. I have a gall stone!
Great. "Can the stone be removed ?" , "No they remove the gall bladder, God has given us the ability to live without it, no side effects." I was stunned...I'd need an operation. I have never had a general anaesthetic.), stayed the night in a s, had stitches or even broken a bone. In fact based on that knowledge I didn't get medical insurance. As it stood I could have flown back in discomfort if I had to. I could have also forked out £20 for the op. I knew my bank account had some travel cover but who knows what it would actually cover. Insurance companies are generally arseholes the moment you need them they aren't there. When you don't want them they are forced upon you.
Either way I'm pretty sure I need to go home to have it done. There is one small problem. An ex of mine that I wasn't my usual gentlemanly self with, is the specialist for removing gall bladders in my area. In fact there is 99% chance that if I head back and joined a queue to have it done she'd be the one doing it. Shit.
I have no doubt that she is 110% professional but...well would you ? Think about it. I may have to lie and say I live in Bristol or something like that. Or just remove it myself with some secateurs.
No comments:
Post a Comment