Thursday, August 12, 2010

Emergency and Co.

Seeing as I have a hypochondriac for a mother and still being of age for testicular cancer, any remarkable change in my nethers leads me to assume the worst. Such a fright occurred the other day when I noticed one was more swollen than the other. Not wanting to lose one or die, I coaxed dad into driving me to emergency so a doctor could look at it.
"Call to see how long the wait is first."
So I called, "Mate, it varies every half hour. No way to tell how long you'll wait."
A waste of time if ever there was one. We drove to the place anyway and signed me in, "Wait here in the row of blue chairs and someone will see you soon."
A man, not much older than myself, paced in a circle around the perimeter of the room, muttering songs of "Harri Krishna" and "Red Brick House" and things like, "This isn't fun anymore", "go away" and "I don't want to die". He was clearly in the middle of a fiendish high from someone unknown drug and he wasn't enjoying himself. I felt for the wretch, even though he had brought this upon himself.
Two cops came into the ward and asked to be let in as they were called in for an assault which took place within the hospital. Another two later came by to view "the deceased". That was unnerving.
Strangely, the only television in the room was playing gruesome medical shows and any effects the testicular problem was giving me were far outweighed by nausea at the shows.
I was soon called in to the nurse's office to give details on why I was there and then asked to provide a urine sample.
With my little plastic cup an baggy in hand, I moved to the only bathroom in the place. The man on drugs came in muttering, "Hey." he said and took a drink from the sink.
Another man was already in the stall providing his own urine sample and we passed each other as I went in and he came out. The delightful awkwardness was palpable.
Two and a half hours later I was finally called in to see the doctor. She asked me to lie on the table so she could inspect the problem. While doing so, she asked the typical information questions of, "have you had unprotected sex in the last 6 months?", "an std?", "this problem before?".
I lay down and she begin squeezing my gentles in ways that made me squirm obviously, my fists clenched and white, "Does this hurt?"
"Yes." I breathed fiercely.
"I know it's uncomfortable, but does it hurt?"
"Yes." I said again. It was agonizing.
At the end she told me she thought I had a collection of fluid in my left and she was going to give me antibiotics and left the room.
Minutes later another doctor, a Scottish man, came in wanting to inspect. He squeezed me uncomfortably and I winced and felt nauseous. I feared I'd throw up then and there. He said there doesn't seem to be anything too bad, but it is swollen, so he gave me a ticket for an ultrasound. I could now go home.
"They were talking with another doctor outside your room," dad said, "looked like he wanted to get in there and have a look, too. The lady kept saying 'he's twenty, leave him alone' and things like that. Probably an intern wanting to learn something." I laughed and my balls hurt.

Next day, I went in to get the ultrasound out of the way. I went in and they scheduled me in for 12:30. I went and had a coffee at McCafe and read some Pride and Prejudice.
Soon, my hour of joy came and I went back to the Radiology Ward. A nice man escorted me into the room, "I'll be the operator today."
"Don't worry, I've done hundreds of these."
He scanned me, placing warming jelly on the ultrasound rod (what are those called?) and I was relieved it wasn't freezing. It wasn't comfortable, but it was better than having two different doctors squeeze my junk around in a violating fashion.
"These doctors," he said, "they squeeze your balls and ask if it hurts. Course it hurts, want me to do it to you and see if it hurts?!"
I laughed an felt at ease.
When it was over he told me there didn't seem to be anything wrong. The report would be ready in a couple of days and would be sent to emergency but could also be sent to my GP.

Though it was a false alarm and I scared myself for nothing and it was a crappy experience, glad I did it so now I know that it's nothing.

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