Bottom line up top: I'm fine, fit and well. But back in the middle of August I awoke to find I'd picked up a UTI. Not a common thing for a fella, but not unheard of. Sometimes it "just happens" said the urologist, some months later.
A course of antibiotics seemed to clear it, but then it hit me again like an express train a week or two later, and because I'd been peeing blood, the GP put me onto an NHS "two week referral" programme to check for cancer.
There followed a couple more courses of antibiotics, and two weeks after the doc's referral, a CT scan. About a month later that was followed by an appointment with a urologist to discover the results.
Other than the CT scan picking up a herniated disc in my lower spine that I didn't know about, there was nothing else. I do occasionally suffer with a bad back. Now knowing its cause, rather than simply assuming I've slept awkward and taking a couple of ibuprofen to deal with it, hasn't actually helped. Colour me ungrateful.
However, he also wanted to do something he euphemistically called a "camera test", just to be sure. We can do it now, he said, though you've recently had a UTI so we probably won't see much through the inflammation so I might have to do it again in a few weeks. I asked him to explain exactly what it entailed. Then wished I hadn't, and pointedly remarked that if he was sure he was going to have to do it, I'd much, much rather he only had to do it once.
I never wish to repeat the experience and it still sends me into a cold sweat to recall. But happily, at the beginning of November, said camera confirmed I was clear of cancer, at least so far as my kidneys, bladder and prostrate were concerned.
Some point in the middle of all this, one afternoon in September I found myself limping, and the following morning the heel of my left foot was in such burning pain that I couldn't put any weight on it. I spent most of the rest of the month on crutches, deeply anxious of what impact this, and the impending appointment with the consultant following the CT scan, might have on our planned holiday at the beginning of October.
The foot slowly recovered. The holiday, a much needed, welcome break, came and went without impact from either my mobility or bladder. Although I did take a collapsible walking stick in my hand-luggage, just in case.
The "camera test" out the way and, for the most part, off my mind, the foot flared back up in November and put me on crutches again, but it cleared itself within a couple of weeks this time. Unable to get a "non urgent" appointment with my GP I ended up with a telephone appointment with a doc via the NHS 111 service, which confirmed my own Google diagnosis that the foot was "probably" Achilles tendonitis or plantar fasciitis. Her suggestion was that I could self refer to Gloucester's physio service, and that I could find the website to do this via a Google search.
I did that, and about a week or two later got a letter back from the hospital inviting me to call to make an appointment. I'd meant to, but as the foot sorted itself out again so quickly, never got around to it.
So, all of this retrospective navel gazing was triggered by my reading an article in the Guardian this morning by Adrian Chiles; https://www.theguardian.com/.../letters-text-messages-passwords-why-cant-nhs-just-give-me-someone-to-talk-to
I'm fifty-four years of age and fortunate to be active, fit and able and free of the need for any regular medications or otherwise requiring the attentions of our NHS. With the notable exception of the last three months or so, when my bladder and my foot have conspired to have a massive impact on my usual activities. The sailing, the karate, even on occasion, walking the dog all had to be put on hold. The only thing I managed to not let it affect was my day-job through a need to keep paying the bills, and my gigs with the band; after all, the show must go on.
The observations of Mr Chiles in his article seemed to sum up concisely and entirely my own experiences with the NHS, the fears and the frustrations of the last few months, so I thought I'd share the link.
Although on reflection, his piece is as much an expression of frustration at the modern trend of reducing all our interactions to the use of an app on your phone. A frustration that I share, despite my arguable technical literacy. Even when trying to order a McDonalds from the drive-through, these days the first thing they'll ask is "Have you ordered via our app today?" and I have to bite back a sharp retort. It's not like it's the fault of the guy in the McDonalds uniform who's been told to ask the question.
Anyway, these fears and frustrations regarding my health and the NHS are in fact now mute. Last Tuesday evening Sensei asked in passing how the foot was doing, and I couldn't help but smile. It's now fine.
And, I thought even though I didn't say it as there is such a thing as over-sharing, I can once more pee with confidence and walk without pain. These seem like such trivial things, so easy to take for granted. But they are a gift.
And it's such a gift that we can.
