Hi folks
I’m writing this from a hospital bed at UCLH in central London after my big day out. Oooh the excitement.
It all began about 11.30 when, well, not to beat about the bush, I wet myself. I have a small tumour on my spine, near the bottom at L2 and I’d been warned that this could happen if the tumour pressed on the spinal cord. If this or a variety of other equally depressing symptoms arose, it was a medical emergency and I should go to hospital immediately.
All good advice in normal times. But these are not normal times so I called my GP. He was on holiday, would I like to speak to another doctor? Why yes I would and 20 minutes later the phone rang. I explained what had happened (and continues) and the GP said sounds like an emergency to me but I need to speak to my senior colleague. Meantime I rang the oncologist at the trials unit. Sounds like an emergency to me, she said, but I want to speak to a senior colleague and your GP.
So they all spoke to each other and by 1.30 the oncologist from the trials unit called back to say I should bypass my local hospital as I don’t have a consultant there and head instead to A&E at UCLH where they were expecting me and would do an MRI scan as a first step. Expect to stay overnight at least one night.
My isolating friend was just on her way out the door for a walk when I called to ask for a lift. Half an hour later, after a quick piece of toast, satsuma and chunk of toblerone (got to get my priorities right here) and packing an overnight bag, she picked me up.
A&E was strangely quiet when I arrived at 3.15. Security guards at the door asked me to sanitise my hands and put on a mask. By 4pm I was in a cubicle on the non covid side of majors and being looked after by a nurse I know from the trials unit. A familiar face, even if masked, is a big comfort at times like this. By 6pm I’d had the MRI. By 6.30 I was in a bed in the oncology ward. At 7 I saw the oncology registrar.
The good news: there is no spinal compression. Phew! However, the tumour is pressing on the nerves exiting the spinal column causing pain and numbness in my leg. That doesn’t explain the urinary incontinence so they are checking for an infection. She started me on steroids.
The whole place is spotless but this danger from covid-19 is real. The porter who wheeled me up to the ward revealed he’d just lost a colleague to the disease.
It feels surreal to be writing about rushing in to hospital when so many of us are being told to stay away. I am in no doubt that I wouldn’t have had this advice if it wasn’t the right thing to do but it’s such a contrast. It feels like the NHS has been here for me big time today.
