I want to make a record of my journey in this unusual year and for me certainly unforgettable. I'm writing it for my therapy as well as for anyone else who is or knows someone who is going through similar experiences.
5th September
It was a normal Saturday afternoon and I was tk meet a couple of friends in Farringdon for an early eveing drink. I was looking forward to it as it had been a difficult summer so far. Working as a Food and Beverage Manager in a London hotel my employers had decided not to reopen my department after they were allowed to re open. Therefore my position was to be made redundant, I was in the middle of the redundancy consultation meetings, my union were involved and the zoom meetings were becoming personal and felt more like a disciplinary than a meeting about termination of my contract. I degress, needs to say I needed my pint and company.
My wife as usual was not to impressed, however she told me just to go and this I took as her granting me her blessing but first I needed to pee. Nothing came out, my pens swelled with the backing up of urine and a tiny bit of blood came out. Brushing this aside I left. By the time I was in Farringdon at around 4pm I excused myself and tried again. Nothing only a little blood. Getting worried I finished my drink in k e go and ordered another, thinking that the pressure will push what ever it was through.
It did not and by the time.it was 5.30 I was in agony.
6pm came and went, I had excused myself every ten minutes to shut myself in a cubicle to push as hard as I could. Only blood!! I starting to get looks from the pub security thinking that I was upto something else.
Eventually I called an ambulance trying to explain how much pain I was in. Fortunately the operator took me seriously and after 90 agonising minutes I was j the back of the ambulance having told my mates not to worry, I was convinced it must have been kidney stones due to stress. Mrs C, my better half was not answering her phone maybe with hindsight her telling me to go out wqs not an invitation and she was probably a bit, ok very pissed off with me.
In the ambulance, they gave me the gas and air which they give to women going into labour and asked if I preferred to goto Royal London or UCL, I shouted out which ever is closest. Whitechapel it was. Half an hour letter I was pacing up and down an empty room in the A&E department like a caged lion. At this point my dignity was disappearing down the hour glass and should my promised catheter arrive without the professional to install it, I would have I sorted it myself.
After years of waiting (about twenty minutes), nurse arrived, bed arrived and a sheet was put over the window, not that I cared at this point. The young nurse took one look and disappeared saying g she will find a doctor. She came back with a senior nurse a sister who was actually a bloke (why are they not called brother?) and it was inserted, "just a small prick Mr C," "tha Ms very much" I replied feeling insulted, a needle was inserted into my arm. I had forgotten about what was happing south, then realised that I no longer felt the urge to wee. The cathereter had been inserted and the bag was filling up with blood coloured urine. Through the other tube with the catheter water was blown into little Nigel to clear out the blood clots. After I removed myself from the ceiling amd had taken a breath I felt a lot better.
A knock on the door and my wife came rushing in, no longer mad but a look of horror and worry on her face, something that I will see a lot over the next few months. One of my friends had called and texted her and she had jumped into a cab to the hospital.
Mrs C was unable to accompany me to the ward as a virus was doing the rounds, you might have heard about it. Anyway the next two days I spent lying with the tube in my willy and started to feel better. I had my book, phone charger amd pain killers to help me sleep. Their were only two other blokes on the ward and my curtains were closed. And the best thing for me, I did not even need to get up to go to the toilet as that was taken care off.
This was until I needed a number 2. I eventually swung my legs over the bed, found the bag and tried to take myself for a walk. Ouch!!! The tube had managed to get caught on the frame of the bed and it was pulling where you do not want it to pull. After carrying out various moves which had been perfected on a twister mat in my teens I was mobile. By the time I got there the moment had passed so returned empty handed, then after getting my legs tangled into the catheter tube, much tk the humour of a.nurse who had come to check on me.
As I am the only one reading this and I feel like making myself a cuppa, I was discharged on 7th September with some pain killers and now my urine looked like, well piss coured again I was sent home with the promise of a CT and a bladder scan in the next couple of weeks. My journey south had begun but I had only redhead the Blackwall Tunnel.
