If anyone has noticed, I've been absent from this fine forum for a few days.
I thought I'd share the (non cycling, but medical) story of why I was away, for your entertainment, amusement and possibly horror.
Be warned, some details in this story are unpleasant. Don't be eating while reading because of some of the disgusting content. This is not for the squeamish!Start last Monday 3rd October after work. I felt pooped after work. I had to go straight to bed and slept till I had to get up for work next morning. This continued to Wednesday. I guessed I'd ran myself down with the miles. PBP and a 600k. Normally small beer to me, but I'm not in great shape and also rode 2 24hr TTs and a set of 3 600s this year, starting practically from zero miles in my legs, so though that must be it, I've overstretched myself a bit and need a rest.
Thursday I was getting slight pain in my bottom and still felt very tired. Friday was worse and I left work after a 2 hour battle, feeling cold and weak. Pain in my bottom was worse, but not bad.
Salvatore was staying overnight for the Milton Keynes series ride that I was supposed to be leading, but was never going to attend now. I tried to be hospitable, but probably wasn't great company.
TBH I was glad when Salvatore left and I could relax a bit more. No disrespect to Salavator, he's a good guest. I couldn't even eat fish and chips with him, I felt so rough. I could barely stand outside the chip shop while he bought his chips so lent against a post bent double.
Salvatore had a nice ride with the others and had another night on my sofa bed and I was glad that he was keen to put in some good miles to get to his mother and left quite early.
Things got a bit worse for me. My pain was worse, but not bad. I had to lay rather than sit. I was sure that I had piles. I figured this because of blood on my stools which I rarely get when I'm doing silly miles for a very long time and when I was low, I got piles. Except this was the painful one. I'm none too clever about medical things, being a fit and healthy type who is almost never ill.
I noticed some swelling in my buttocks too. I put that down to having very bad piles, now being in some pain.
Monday was when it really kicked off!
Phoned in sick at work, there was no way I was going there. I'd barely eaten a thing in the last week, being ever so tired all the time and just wanting to sleep.
My piles were very bad. I phoned NHS direct for advice and what came up as my best option was to dunk my bum in mildly warm water.
I could only do this in my bathroom sink, so that is what I did.
It was a great relief, but as a reflex reaction I emptied my bowels and bladder. my bowel movement went in the sink and I pissed all over the bathroom floor. The relief was so good, I just didn't care. I can clean up.
My stool was very tiny and mostly liquid, so went down the plughole and the piss was cleaned up.
I felt exhausted, but slightly relieved. In time I tried to eat half a weetabix and some tinned fruit to get some strength back. I was pooped!
My swelling was worse. I time I felt the need for more warm water relief and hang the messy consequences that I could clean up.
The next stool was more solid, probably the weetabix, and needed handling to the toilet. No big deal. Wash hands and see the Internet for further advice.
Eventually, I grabbed my hybrid, pulled the QR on the seatpin and dropped the saddle. I rode to the local Chemist for advice and chemical relief. I was incredibly slow up the small hill to the Chemist.
I walked in very slowly and painfully. I could barely stand. My face must have been a picture and I felt very bad for the small boy who caught my face and was upset by it. I wished I could walk faster and put the poor child out of his misery. I was glad that he had some comforting arms to hide him from the monster.
When it was my turn, I had to think hard before speaking. Everything was such an effort. I tried to explain that I had piles and needed some cream. The wise Chemist took me to the reception of the doctor (my GP surgery has the chemist there inside it, how good is that!)
I was obviously in need and was promptly seen by an astute doctor. I dropped my trousers and got an instant diagnosis. Not piles, but an abscess! All new to me, but the good doctor was certain and said I'd need an operation at the hospital and should be done by the end of the day.
This was good news!
But, of curse, I am ever awkward. Things can never run straight or true for me.
The doctor was surprised at my means of transport. "How did you sit?"
"I didn't, I stood up."
"How will you get home?"
"I'll be fine, it's almost all downhill, I won't really need to pedal, just roll down the hill and I'm home."
Which was what I did.
Taxi called and I was at the Hospital, hopeful that I'd soon be well.
In the meantime, my stomach was growing ever more painful. I felt like I needed a piss, but couldn't get myself to go. It was getting very bad.
I arrived safely at the hospital and stumbled to reception and got seen to but the porter who arrived with a wheelchair.
I couldn't sit, so offered to stand on the footrests and be pushed, but was refused on 'elf'n'safety grounds.
Fair enough, I'll wait for a bed, which needed to be borrowed. I was soon whisked away to a room with a bed and being prepared for surgery. My stomach was getting worse by the minute and it's pain was superseding my buttock pain.
I was attended to by a rather attractive female nurse. She was a great nurse too and I was in very good hands. Luckily I'd not eaten in a very long time, so could have my surgery very soon if a surgeon was free.
I was soon seen by an excellent doctor who tried to locate my abscess to aid the surgeon and asked if I was in any other pain. I stressed that my biggest pain right now was my stomach and we soon agreed that my abscess was preventing me from urinating. I was very relieved when I was told that I would have a catheter fitted to empty my bladder! The doctors prepared me for my catheter fitting, dropping my trousers etc making me naked. In walks the attractive nurse with another attractive student nurse. The nurse was taken aback by my nudity a bit, most likely on behalf of her student. I didn't care and she's got to learn, but I was asked to cover up when the doctor returned and I was again told to get naked.
The student put some conductive goo on my belly and measured my bladder wit some device that she was obviously learning how to use. I could have done without the delay, I knew I was full to burst!
Apparently, it measured 0.9 litres of urine in my bladder. That's a lot for a tennis ball sized organ to hold!
I noted two doctors, one saying, "but that's clinical....!!" as the other doctor nodded wisely.
The doctor was sure that I had more than a litre, so I guess that the measuring device had hit the end of the scale and that people don't have that much in their bladders, ever.
My fear were confirmed when the catheter arrived. It was a tube to my bladder fitted via my penis. I'd hoped for a penetration of the bladder via sharp instrument, but needs must when the devil drives. I'd had some painkillers taken via intravenous drip so it might not be too bad.
It fucking well was! I certainly made some noise as it was inserted in front of the two attractive ladies. I didn't care, it had to be done. It lasted about half a minute, then my bladder was being slowly emptied.
I had rather more than a litre in my bladder. Both I and the doctor were amazed that I was carrying around 2 litres in my bladder. It was like the famous Hancock blood donor sketch. I confirmed with the doctor that a bladder was the size of a tennis ball. I looked at my bulging catheter bag and two urine collection pots and said, "there's a bloody football there!" The doctor confirmed that was why I was in so much pain.
I was eternally grateful for having my bladder emptied. It was a tremendous relief! Just had the bum to worry about now then and I'd be fine.
I later heard from a fellow patient that my bladder situation was an emergency situation on par with a heart attack. I have no idea of the truth of that, so would be glad for any medics on this forum to say fact or fiction.
I met my anaesthetist before surgery. He was what I'd call an Afro-Carri bean cool dude! A great friendly man. "I'm gonna be helpin yo out tonight, is that allright?"
I said yes and gave the thumbs up. I couldn't muster much enthusiasm, but his rubbed onto me.
He delivered the knockout punch before my surgery and I was gassed (probably oxygen) then oblivion.
I woke up feeling better but drowsy and noticed I had dressing on my bum. I'd had my surgery and never felt a thing.
I was kept in overnight and given painkillers and antibiotics, but not penicillin based, being allergic to penicillin.
Next morning I was moved to another ward and saw the good doctor from last night or yesterday.
My abscess was exceptionally large. A real big one. Apparently, a few surgeons had to leave the theatre because of the smell! These are hardened surgeons who have seen all that is gory, not Joe Squeamish!
My abscess was also in a very awkward place and unusually about 10cm deep, where they are almost always near the surface and much easier to get at. This meant that instead of just one incision, I needed two, just to complicate things.
The catheter was uncomfortable, but did save me needing to walk to the toilet, so was quite handy.
My anaesthetist greeted me in the morning and we did a high 5. I thanked him for a job well done and said that he gave me some good stuff, it knocked me right out. See what I mean? What a cool dude and good guy! Taking time to see his handiwork.
The rest was mostly plain sailing, if rather drawn out. I needed further surgery to remove padding that had been put where my abscess had been. Lots of antibiotics fed intravenously via a very efficient method where you have one injection and a feeder device is stuck in your arm. Fantastic idea and very efficient.
I was moved to another ward as beds were needed.
I felt good and was refusing oral painkillers. "I'm just not in any real pain.
"
The last day, my catheter was removed. Mercifully, it was much better than having it inserted. I asked everyone else around me with a catheter if they were knocked out and felt their catheter going in. None of them did, they all had the knock out punch before. Mine must have been a real emergency.
I had to pass urine the normal way into a container so that the amount could be measured 3 times. I always delivered a good amount, nearly filling each container to it's brim each time.
My only last issue was constipation, which I bought some laxatives for, but have mercifully since had a good bowell movement and I'm feeling much better now (so I can write all this)
I'm now left with two scars on my left buttock. They need care, especially the one very near my arsehole which can easily get infected badly if I pass a stool. I need my wounds dressing daily for the next 7 days by a professional at my local GP and have a short course of antibiotics to take. So I'll ease myself back onto my bike gently and take things careful for a while until I'm healed and back to full strength.
In the bed next to me was a man with artery issues and is aiming for a Land's End John O Groats next year, probably June. So I gave all the advice and encouragement I could muster, as he was a bit new to cycling, but looking forward to his adventure. I told him some of my credentials, such as the basic facts of my 3 Grand Triangles. He'd heard of Audax, so I pointed out to him that I was one of the real nutters in AUK and if it wasn't for my surgery, I'd be doing a 600 this weekend. He was glad of my advice and we wished each other luck, shook hands and I left.
Before I left, I thanked the nurse that put a lot of effort into dressing my wounds. I nicknamed him "Chief" because he was of Eastern origin, but appeared Apache Indian to me and was a very good nurse with experience, so certainly worthy of Chief status. He really did work hard to do a very good job.
I asked him about my abscess and he confirmed that they were exceptionally unusual. He said I was one of a kind. I told him that I'd heard that very many times as he continued his efforts on my dressing...
Apologies for poor grammar and typo-fest. I don't usually write lying down sideways and I'm recovering from surgery, so I hope that I can be forgiven.
