Prof was very understanding, despite the fact that he must have to explain this procedure a hundred times over in an average month. In that respect it was like a normal clinic visit (and having had these every 6 weeks for the last 6 years, you get kinda blasé about it) including the obligatory examination
Prof always like to take a look at what he is working with and, usually, there is some kind of audience for these examinations. Last time it was a student nurse who looked on in awe and was suitably impressed by the ridges in my finger and toe nails that are apparently a sign of a past attack that has been severe enough to disrupt their growth. Honestly, there is no end to the stuff you can learn!
On this occasion, it was a little crowded. Lovely IDB nurse came in and both she and Prof had to be chaperoned by a trainee nurse who helped me preserve what little dignity I have left by draping me with a clean sheet. Lovely IBD nurse was there as emotional support for me as Prof was worried that, due to my 'stoic' nature (his word not mine!) he may have been over burdening me with details and I guess Lovely IDB nurse was there to help control the ensuing breakdown he felt sure was about to occur. Poor MH, I usually save these for him and this instance was no different. Well, I wouldn't want to deprive him of that would I?!
There is one thing that always occurs to me when I have these exams and I am sure it has crossed all of our minds at some point or another during medical exams; what is it in a doctors nature that, when the find an area that is painful enough when poked to make us emit a noise like 'eerk' wince spectacularly, do they immediately have the desire to poke it again, harder and wince along with us? Is it something they teach in med school? Sympathy through repeated pain?
Sore tummy was poked, mutant and angry bowel area was identified drawing 'Hmmm's' and 'ah' from a thoughtful Prof and then it was time for the left hand roll, as I like to call it, exposing my bottom and woes to the world. Having the novelty of two experts in the room and hearing a whispered conversation and shuffling of equiptment behind me, I peered over my right shoulder, slightly afraid at what I might see.
What I did see made me laugh despite the situation. Lovely IBD nurse has extracted from somewhere the standard latex gloves and was assisting Prof by illuminating my affilicted derrière with a Duracell professional torch of such a size it could have been used as an offensive weapon! Now I know our NHS is a bit short of cash but its really too much when specialist have to raid their tool boxes for equipment!
Examination done and still inappropriately giggling, I dressed and returned back to Prof's office for the diagnosis.
Surgery and Stoma is the long and the short of it and my brain was entirely focused on that. So much so I almost missed the words 'dietician' and 'liquid diet'. It gets better and better!
No comments:
Post a Comment