Back in hospital again, this time for an endoscopy and colonoscopy. Yep. Both ends.
With the greatest of luck, I was admitted for the nights before and after the procedures. So the kind offer of my new friends to pick me up and drop me off proved unnecessary. The hospital staff had decided even the prep would be problematic for me in a caravan. It turns out they were right. When you are old enough for a colonoscopy, you’ll know what I mean. In the meantime retain your blissful ignorance.
It all went well. A couple of polyps removed, budding haemorrhoids identified, and I have diverticula, a common enough condition in which the gut wall gets little pockets. These can be a problem if any food gets trapped in them and cause infection; diverticulitis.
This means I must chew my food well, and eat plenty of fibre. I do.
I don’t have bowel cancer, good news of which I was already quite sure, having been tested twice as part of a study in which I’m participating.
I shall be discussing the results in depth with my GP in a week from now.
After the procedure it transpired that my bed for that night was needed for a patient after all, but instead of letting me go home, they decided I was to be transferred to the private hospital next door. An upgrade in other words. Better food, at least. Not that there was anything wrong with the fare at Caboolture Hospital, the meals at Caboolture private hospital are just a little more upmarket. The surroundings are also a little more posh but the service and kindness the same. Excellent.
After the disappointing (mis)adventure of my left arm, and the surgical cock-up, my faith and admiration for the Australian health system has been fully restored.
And surprise! My kind friend Cindy from WA sent me flowers.