glad to hear everything gone well and you are up and about again enjoyself on sat
best wishes
Jen x
dieseldave:
Diary spoiler snippets…A midnight feast of illicit smuggled pies and butties, because I couldn’t get to the chippy
Methods for obtaining extra tea rations
Really glad that you’re back home and your spirits are up! 
Wishing you a speedy recovery.
hello u , thank u for sorting out my pic … i just been reading you have had quite an op …
its nice to hear your on the mend and ok , am new to the site only joined a few days ago , so hope it ok to say
■■■
Well folks, it’s time for the promised hospital diary… 
Please click on the pics to expand them.
I arrived at the hospital on 1st April for clerking in and admission.
I was put on a ward and settled in.
They even fed me, but the plates were a bit small:
Everything went fine until they put this sign above my bed: 
OK, I photoshopped it a bit. 
Then one of the guards discovered my stash of pies, restrained me, and then removed them:
This is in fun, because of what the pic looks like.
I was nil by mouth from 23:00 on 1st April.
Early morning on 2nd April.
I’ll start with the free dentistry, because that actually happened before the surgeon got her hands on me.
I’d been to my dentist because I had two extremely loose teeth, but she couldn’t fit me in until after my op date.
As I was about to be anaesthetised, the anaestheist asked me whether there was anything that they should be aware of. I told him that I had two very loose teeth, which might become dislodged when they put the breathing tube in my mouth, then I somewhat cheekily asked whether he had any pliers in his kit. 
My dentist had quoted something like £46 for the two extractions, but this guy did them for free.
You should have seen my dentist’s face when I went for a check-up and she found that the number of teeth in my mouth didn’t match her records.
I told her that they were taken out for safety reasons, which is mostly true.
Just after my discussion with the anaesthetist, I mysteriously fell asleep.
I remember seeing 08:15 on the clock.
The next thing I know, it’s 14:30 and a nurse is waking me up in the recovery room.
Some time passes… and a porter arrives to trolley me to the intensive care ward.
Eventually, I arrive on the ward and find that they’ve kept some food for me from dinner time.
The nurses said that people don’t normally want to eat so soon after being anaesthetised for so long for a major op, but I explained that I’m not the average patient.
I then did some negotiating and got two dinners, but I was far too hungry to think about being quick with the camera
Two dinners needs two brews:
Now that I was (almost) suitably refreshed, I was able to take in my surroundings and realised that I was in a Borg regeneration alcove in a spaceship:
I was connected to all sorts of machinery
And wearing flight socks and automatically inflating and deflating cricket-pads (pads removed in this pic.)
After 24 hours, I was moved to a normal ward for two more days.
Things were more relaxed on this ward, and the guards were quite friendly.
I still had to keep asking for food, because I was simply ravenous.
You might think that I’m just a greedy so-and-so, but the feeling of hunger was part of the condition I was suffering from. (honest )
I mentioned that I knew there was a chip shop nearby, but then my shoes ‘went missing.’
My shoes were replaced by some hospital slippers, which were made of stuff like thick blotting paper.
I think they knew I wouldn’t get across the car-park in them, never mind them lasting all the way to the chippy and back.
Hospital slippers:
The situation was getting worse, and with no end in sight, I had to have some supplies brought to me.
I discovered that the guards go on break at midnight, so now it’s supper time:
A pie, a pasty and a brew = contentment. 
After all this excitment, I find that I’m now allowed to go and sit in the garden.
To get to the garden, you have to go past the hospital bistro.
Maybe you can guess what they sell in there:
Here’s my attempt at arty photography. I believe this is called a ‘still life’ picture.
It didn’t stay still for very long.
Now for the serious stuff…
The surgeon who did my op found that my nasal passages were narrowed having been affected by my condition, so she did a nose job on me at the end of the op on her way out of my skull.
I’m eternally grateful for this, becuase it has helped my breathing very considerably, and I’d go so far as to say that I now sleep much better and wake more refreshed too.
For those who can’t give up the nicotine habit (includes me 
) I can tell you that electronic cigarettes are allowed in a hospital, and I was even ‘smoking’ them on the intensive care ward with the blessing of the surgeon and in full view of the Ward Sister.
I get mine from here:
http://www.vapouriz.com/
I get on with the electronic cigarette OK, but I do know people who have tried them but went back onto normal cigarettes.
Since my op, I’ve been back to my local hospital (Chester) and had some blood tests.
The blood tests have shown that I need to take 20mg of Hydrocortisone every day for the rest of my life, because one of my glands has packed up. This is a side effect of the op and the possibility of ‘tablets for life’ was clearly explained to me beforehand. It’s a very small price to pay in exchange for getting rid of a life threatening condidtion and not having to wear clown shoes or having an enlarged heart in later life.
I have to say that the professionalism of the medical staff at Walton Hospital is second to none, and that I’ve actually enjoyed my experience.
As usual. Excellent post with a tinge of sadness and humour mixed in. 
good diary Dave , glad you were treated well and everything went to plan ,
jenx
So very pleased to see that they got you all sorted Dave, & that you’ve made an exellent recovery too Like you say, a tablet a day for the rest of your life is a small price to pay , in comparison the condition
I finally had enough signal today to see All of your diary, including the photos , I had been trying to see the ‘complete’ diary for a few days 
And you survived a ‘Pie Free’ zone too
This episode starts off about 18 months ago, so if you don’t like long posts, now’s the time to navigate away.
Xmas Eve 2009, I’m having a pee and happen to glance down… I’m peeing a liquid that’s the colour of red wine. There was also what looks just like lumps of cranberry jelly in it too.
Forunately, I was able to visit my GP on the same day as a matter of urgency, so I had a pee test of the same type as you’d give for your LGV medical. Unsurprisingly, the test indicated the presence of blood, so I was given some pills and got referred to a urologist.
Lots of toing and froing later… around March 2010 and I’m booked for endoscopy.
They needed to look inside my bladder, but since this is a family show, you have to use your imagination to guess how they got the camera inside my bladder. (BTW, this isn’t a quiz question. 
)
Not many people can say this, but I’ve actually seen my innards on live TV.
Next comes a CAT scan and an MRI scan (can’t remember which was first ) but the urology consultant said that the results of the scans showed an enlaged prostate that leaks some blood into my bladder once in while, so he writes me a prescription for tablets that will shrink my prostate gland to the size that it should be. I’m also told that there’s no cancer involved.
At the risk of repeating myself, I cannot over-emphasise the vital importance of men taking a PSA blood test now and again.
So there we are, a male plumbing problem not uncommon in men of my age, and certainly nothing to worry about. The pills work and it’s nearly a year since I’ve seen any sign of blood when peeing.
I’m due to see the urology consultant again in November.
So, you would think that’s that and job done… 'fraid not though.
I got an unexpected letter from the urologist asking me to visit ASAP and to ring them to arrange an appointment. The letter also said that I should bring a friend or relative too.
The big day dawns and I set off with my girlfriend Jenny for my visit the urologist, who explained that scans are routinely seen by a second doctor (a radiologist) just in case there’s anything else that can be spotted.
In my case, the reason for suggesting a second person to be with me and the sudden haste, is that they’ve spotted a tumour inside my adrenal gland, so now I’m referred to an endocrine consultant.
We’ve been to see the endocrine consultant, but the very first question he asked me was the strangest that a Dr has ever asked me… he asked whether my feet have grown.
He wasn’t the slightest bit bothered by the tumour on my adrenal gland and commented that most of the adult population have them. Apparently, I’ll be allowed to keep that one.
I answered that my feet have grown. In fact they’ve grown three sizes since my late 20s.
Since that first visit, I’ve been back and to many times and had an amazing array of blood tests, pee tests and several scans.
The upshot of all this is that I am now confirmed as having a very rare condition called acromegaly, which is caused by my growth hormone NOT being suppressed as it should be.
The gentle giant bit is that, if this had happened whilst I was still growing as a child, I would probably be over 8’ tall by now. BTW, there’s also a tumour dead center inside my pituitary gland, again and fortunately, this one is also not cancerous.
I’m now also under the care of a neuro-surgeon who I visited on Thursday of this week.
He’s quite a nice guy really, but after some confirmatory specialised scans to be done at the Walton Neurological Center in Liverpool, he said he very probably wants to enter my skull with a light, a microscope and some sharp implements to remove the tumour in my pituitary gland. Oh, I nearly forgot that he also mentioned possible radiotherapy and some tablets.
Apparently, this acromegaly is the reason behind a lot of apparently unconnected symptoms that I’ve been suffering in the last few years… loose teeth, the need for the operations on my elbows, arthritis, strange headaches and extremely painful feet.
I can imagine some folks thinking that they’d probably not opt for the op, but if I’m offered it, I think the decision is a no brainer because nobody would want feet that are as painful as mine have become. Another reason is that most acromegalics die prematurely of heart troubles caused by cardiomegaly (enlarged heart) so it really is a no brainer.
I’ll update this when I know more, but for now, I’ll have to get some clown shoes if I hang around to see if acromegaly will fix itself (it won’t. ) I need painful feet like I need a hole in my head, but I can also take a lesson from this… only this week, and looking at the info in a certain way, a Dr has told me that a hole in the head can cure painful feet!!
Why would some folks not opt for the operation? 
If it was something that was going to make me better and cure agonising pain (feet in your case) then I’d be “let’s get cracking then!” to the surgeon! Good to see you seem to have a similar train of thought on that. When you booked in to get it done? 
Rob K:
Why would some folks not opt for the operation?
Hi Rob,
Some people have a phobia about doctors, dentists and needles, and I’m pretty sure that we’ve both seen examples of that.
Rob K:
If it was something that was going to make me better and cure agonising pain (feet in your case) then I’d be “let’s get cracking then!” to the surgeon! Good to see you seem to have a similar train of thought on that. When you booked in to get it done?
Oh yes Rob, my train of thought is also to get cracking.
Maybe the Dr will go for something more conservative at first, but he’s already looked at all my MRI scans that were done in Chester and decided that he wants to see a more detailed scan, but they only have the necessary kit for that in Liverpool. I’m waiting for an appointment to go for a specialised scan in Liverpool, then the Dr will review everything and decide on how he wants to proceed. All he’s said up to now is that he thinks it quite likely that I’ll be having the operation.
Nothing much more for me to say other than “keep us updated” then, for now! Maybe you could do a diary like you did before with your elbows(?), or was it your knees? hips? Or was that Malc? Can’t remember. I know Malc did a rather graphic diary but thought I remembered you doing a hospital diary on something too?
Rob K:
Nothing much more for me to say other than “keep us updated” then, for now!
Yes Rob, I’ll do that.
Rob K:
Maybe you could do a diary like you did before with your elbows(?),
Yes Rob, you’re right first time, it was my elbows.
Funnily enough, the elbow jobs are related to the acromegaly.
I’ll try to do a diary of the acromegaly op, but for those who might have missed my double elbow job, I’ve trawled it up here:
Diary of dieseldave's trip to the hospital carvery INC PICS! - HEALTH AND FAMILY (INTERACTIVE) - Trucknet UK
Rob K:
or was it your knees? hips?
The hip job was indeed Malc, and for those who missed his diary, it’s here:
Wheel Nuts Hospital Adventures (Images Added) - #9 by wheel_nut - BULLY'S TRUCKSTOP BAR (INTERACTIVE) - Trucknet UK
acromegaly… does that mean this thread will just keep growing …
Do you believe in mystic meg and physic powers?
The first time we took you to the pub in Melbourne. Jools brought her sister, who says she is a medium and can see auras of dead people. We just thought she was raving mad but has occasionally proved us wrong
If you remember we were talking about Motorcycles, Oulton Park and what young lads got up to.
However as soon as she clapped eyes on you she said to Jools who told me. “Malc’s friend is quite ill but will be offered treatment and will be ok.” “He must have this treatment”
Let us hope the batty fruitcake is correct again, I will see you Wednesday if you are spared
ROG:
acromegaly… does that mean this thread will just keep growing …
Probably.
Wheel Nut:
Do you believe in mystic meg and physic powers?The first time we took you to the pub in Melbourne. Jools brought her sister, who says she is a medium and can see auras of dead people. We just thought she was raving mad but has occasionally proved us wrong
If you remember we were talking about Motorcycles, Oulton Park and what young lads got up to.
However as soon as she clapped eyes on you she said to Jools who told me. “Malc’s friend is quite ill but will be offered treatment and will be ok.” “He must have this treatment”
Let us hope the batty fruitcake is correct again, I will see you Wednesday if you are spared
Hi Malc,
As strange as this may seem, there’s no great urgency for the op, because the incredibly slow growth rate of the tumour is already known to be 1mm in four years.
Having said that, I’m not complacent about getting it removed as soon as the Dr wishes to do it.
It won’t be before Wednesday though.
It’s quite a rare thing is acromegaly I believe, but with all the modern medical procedures & such they’ll soon have it sorted for you . Let us know how you’re getting on, hope its all sorted very soon for you.
Hi Dave
I hope the diary wont have too many pics bearing in mind where you started to see unusual happenings !!
Seriously I hope it all goes well and those feet will stop growing , good luck with it all and you will soon be up speaking “russian” again to your students without the pain !
best regards
Jen x
Update:
One day last week, the Walton Neurological Center contacted me …
I went for my scan appointment yesterday.
What follows ISN’T by way of complaint or moaning of any kind, but shows what can happen when things don’t go according to plan. The plan was that I needed a CAT scan, followed by an MRI scan, and they’re doing both on the same day one after another to save everybody’s time.
I must say that everybody did their best, but it was just one of ‘those’ days.
First, I’m taken to a room containing a CAT scanner.
Here’s how the conversation went:
Nurse: Hello Dave, you need to have some dye injected into your bloodstream to help with the contrast when the Dr views the scan.
Me: Ok nurse, no problem, I’ve had that before when I’ve had other scans at Chester.
Nurse: We’d prefer to cannulate you, because after this, you’ll be going to the other scanner, and they’ll need to inject some dye into your bloodstream for their imaging too. That will save us having to give you two injections, because we can inject both dyes at the right time, but through the one site.
Me: OK nurse, I’m fine with that, but I should point out that anybody trying to cannulate me in the past has found it very difficult because I have unusually thick skin.
Nurse: Oh, don’t worry Dave, we do this all the time.
Me: I’ve heard what you just said all the time nurse, but you’re welcome to have a go anyway.
[They never listen. ]
The nurse made two attempts to cannulate me, both of which failed resulting in little ‘test’ shots of saline appearing as little lumps under my skin at the site of the injection. (Not painful and disappear quickly.)
Now I have two punctures, but I’m not cannulated.
Nurse: I’ll have to go and get my colleague.
I wait, whilst blocking the rest of the people in the waiting room.
A sister turns up…
Sister: OK, sorry for the delay, I’ll do it, I’ve done this lots of times…
[Famous last words, and I think I’ve heard this before. ]
Guess what happened next?
The sister makes two more attempts, both of which failed. (Two more little saline lumps appear.)
Now I have four punctures, and I’m still not cannulated.
Sister: I’ll have to go and fetch a doctor.
Me: Why Sister, are you feeling unwell?
[The Nurse and the Sister are both Scousers, and enjoyed the banter, which I kept light-hearted.]
Sister: No Dave, you have very thick skin, and we’re having difficulty siting the cannula correctly.
[Can you guess what I’m thinking at this point?]
I now do some more waiting.
[You see, I’m a patient patient.]
The waiting room is filling up nicely.
A doctor arrives.
Dr: Hello Dave, my colleagues tell me they’re having trouble cannulating you. We’ll soon get this sorted and have you scanned and on your way. Sorry for the delay.
Me: I’m sorry that you’re being put to this inconvenience.
The Dr then makes two attempts to cannulate me, both of which failed.
Now I have six punctures, and I’m still not cannulated.
[Remember, they were trying to save me from needing two separate injections. ]
Dr: Dave, you have very thick skin, and I found great difficulty in finding a vein that would take the cannula.
[Remembering back to my schooldays]
Me: Can’t you just give me the stuff on a sugar lump like they used to do years ago when things were so much easier? (Still light-hearted fun.)
Can you guess what’s coming next…? (Yes, you’re probably right!!)
Dr: I’m sorry for the delay, but I’ll have to fetch a consultant anaesthetist.
[You couldn’t make this up!! ]
Dr: If the consultant can’t cannulate you, we’ll have to come up with another idea.
Me: [(thinking quietly) Like maybe giving me a standard injection perchance? Maybe?]
I get another chance to practice my waiting skills.
[You see, I’m a very patient patient, who used to clear customs in Italy, so I can outwait anybody.]
The are now so many people in the waiting room that security now erect crowd control barriers.
( OK, I made that last bit up, apart from my ability to wait. )
A very distinguished looking gentleman enters the room.
Consultant: Hello Dave, I’m Dr …, consultant anaesthetist. What seems to be the trouble?
Me: I’m sorry that I appear to be causing some difficulties, but I think the Nurse, the Sister, the Dr and myself are all feeling a little embarrassed for various reasons, and now there’s a bit of a backlog in the waiting room.
The consultant nailed it at the first attempt, but he did mention that I have thick skin!!
That scan, followed by the MRI scan thankfully went without a hitch, so I made my way home in the Friday rush hour traffic to a well earned cup of tea. Upon drinking my tea, I leaked tea like a sieve from from my seven punctures and showered my cat who was innocenty waiting to be fed.
OK, I made the last sentence up too, but do you know of anybody else who went from Ellesmere Port to Liverpool and back, who picked up seven punctures along the way?
LOL Dave