Eye eye!

Look at this!

Had an eye test, about three years later than I should have. They’re good! In fact they’re improving! (Only bit that is improving, in fact). Every time I go the eye tests get better, and the information gets more, well, informative. Like they can tell you stuff about your past medical history, and not just your eyes. She told me that I had had a squint operation as a child (which I knew), and that it was the left eye that had been corrected (which I didn’t know). And they can tell you stuff about your heart and brain and all sorts of stuff. Which is great. But you also get to look at this really cool picture of the inside of your eye, just like this one, taken with a computer and a digital camera. I can get really excited about this sort of thing. It’s just like the planet Mars, with canals and everything. Amazing! Just like those pictures of swirling galaxies that are just like the curls of a seashell. How good is that? Go get an eye test today!

My haircut

“How’d you like the new ear?” I said, proudly. “Oh, yes, not bad”, she said, slightly quizzically. “It was you!” I said. “Me?” She said. “Yes, you said I should have it seen to!” “Oh!” She said, “Very nice! Same as usual?”

Ear ear! 5 (and the last)

A nice letter from the Great Man about the trimmed lug-hole. It’s chondrodermatitis helicis chronicis. The name is longer than the missing bit of ear. Entirely benign and not related to any known form of tumour or growth. Which is what he said it probably was. But it’s nice to know, and I get to see him in a couple of weeks as well, so that’s good service in my book.

Ear ear 4

Got a letter today inviting me to go back to the hospital to see the Great Man about the follow up to my ear surgery. (The story so far – part of ear trimmed off neatly by surgeon with sharp knife, put in plastic pot and sent off for analysis. Ear heals up well. I tell people I’ve had ear surgery, to which all reply “Oh really?” accompanied by moving their head from side to side as they look intently and comparatively at my two ears. Now read on …..)

What I want to know is, What was it? He reckoned it would be nothing Special or Serious. But I’m supposed to go and see him to find out. But we were going off for a boating week after Easter. What to do? I asked if they would tell me over the phone; No. Would they send results to my doctor? Nope. When is the next appointment? The end of May! I express some surprise. The Great Man sees everyone he operates on, she says. Very commendable, I say. But what to do? The receptionist says she’ll book me for May and the secretary will get back to me. I wait. The secretary does not get back to me.

Unsettling Picture of the Week

Unsettling asthmatic animal picture of the week.

Ear ear 3

No, I do not plan to have the other one trimmed to match.

Ear ear 2

What a bunch of ghouls. It seems everyone is fascinated by operations stories. In answer to the many enquiries, yes, I'm fine. Here is a perfect ear. Mine used to look a bit like this, only bigger. Now it has less scapha and helix, but still has plenty of navicular fossa. Rather like it's been chewed by a small animal while I was asleep. Okay now?

Ear ear

Then Two; on Monday I went in to hospital for planned day surgery on my ear. A bit of background. Last year they thought I had a “nodule” (for which read “polyp” or even worse “growth”) on my vocal chords. This, they thought, might be the cause of speaking and singing problems. Then the next time they put the camera down – nothing! Gone! A few months after that, a little lump turned up on the outside edge of my left ear. Well, you can see where I’m going with this, can’t you? You think it’s a coincidence that this should turn up so soon after the first one disappeared? I don’t think so! The little bugger has migrated; moving around, so that we can’t zap a moving target!

The Great Man said it had to come off, as there was a slight chance that it could be a rodent ulcer, which is not very good, but not too bad, but more likely it was something a bit better, beginning with c that’s about fifteen letters, which is without a doubt better than Something Worse beginning with C and six letters.

So in I go, with all the stuff to stay the night in the event of Something Going Wrong. It turned out to be the full production; lights, sounds, costumes and quite a big cast. And you get to stay awake and watch everything! I seem to have a strangely detached approach to this sort of thing, and, from what others say, maybe a fairly high tolerance of people operating on me while I’m conscious. The local anesthetic is the most painful part; after that all you feel is discomfort, as if someone is trying to wrench your ear off. “You OK there?” they cheerily ask, to which the expected answer I suppose is “Oh yes, fine!” (that’s what I said, anyway). It’s rather like finding out about trimming a steak from the point of view of the steak. As it’s your ear, you can’t see anything, but you do hear Noises. These include metal noises, as of knives; squishy and squelchy noises, which, you realize, is stuff that is normally inside you, coming out and running down your neck; and small gun type noises, which is the sewing machine, I presume. But it’s all over in fifteen minutes, and they give you tea and toast. And that toast is one of the tastiest meals I’ve had in ages.

There there

I’ve not been posting much for a week or so because two things happened which got in the way. One, I had an asthma attack. This was the full works, exercise-induced, brought on after a little light garden tidying (I like to do a bit every year, whether it needs it or not). I’ve never had asthma before, so this came as a bit of a surprise. While I wheezed and coughed Tigger carried on with the clearing up, and then turned her attention to unblocking the hoover. Eventually she suggested ringing the doctor. I agreed. “My husband’s having a severe asthma attack!” she said, “Shall I bring him in immediately?” They agreed. If it’s that bad, I thought, why didn’t we go twenty minutes ago? I was on a nebuliser for half an hour, and am now kitted out with the inhalers and stuff, and stuck with this for the rest of my days, no doubt. The thing about being married to a nurse is, if you survive the initial emergency and the refusal to pay any attention to my plaintive cries for help, you eventually get superb after-care. We got back home, supper cooked for me and an early night. And that’s it as far as the garden is concerned.