Today I once again attended the outpatients clinic for the haemotology and oncology department to discuss recent test results and what to do about any of them. It was pleasant enough to sit in one of their comfy armchairs playing games on my phone and reading facebook. Just as last time, the TV was on. Unlike last time, it appeared to be showing some kind of adult TV rather than CBBC. Presumably this is why they had chosen to turn the volume to zero and discontinue displaying the subtitles. Daytime grown up telly is clearly a bit too radical and dangerous for exposure to hospital patients, so all we had was some people wandering about. There was a graveside scene, so presumably it was some kind of crime or other drama. I didn’t recognise it, in any case.

 Last time I attended I had noticed a ‘beverage preparation area’, with a kettle and mugs and so on. I had presumed this was where the staff went to make tea, so I was shocked when a happy chappy sporting a badge labelling him as a hospital volunteer suddenly turned into the tea boy, not for the staff, but for the patients. Truly, the service levels in haemotology are rising with each and every visit. Kettle on, teabag in mug, tea in my hand. Fantastic effort. I am hopeful that when I go back for my next visit, there might be a biscuit, or perhaps a slice of cake as well.

 In due course, I was called into see (on this occasion) Doctor Alan Williams. For those of you who have been to university and done some kind of science or engineering style of degree, you will be familiar with the sort of lecturer who has been in academia for too long. The hair has a mind of its own, the clothes are a little too shabby and he (usually a he) speaks in a strange language which is full of immense amounts of knowledge trying (and failing) to escape in an intelligible manner. This largely describes Doctor Williams. I understand he does know really a lot about medicine, being the senior haemotologist in the hospital, but sometimes his communication skills fail. I don’t think it helps that he fails to pick up on my own scientific background and ability to understand long words and in his efforts to dumb down what he’s trying to talk about to ‘general not-scientific patientspeak’ his brain implodes and garbage comes out.

So, the result of all my tests to date are as follows:

• Bone marrow – Normal.
• Bloods – Normal. (in particular glad to know I don’t have Hep B, Hep C, or HIV)
• Lymph Nodes in Neck – Basically normal (except the speckledy bits which might be calcifications). Not big enough to remove surgically.

 Conclusion – Probably not lymphoma, but still might be, so we still need to get a lymph node to be sure. In any case, your lymph nodes are enlarged and there’s some cause for that.

 At this point I said… ok, but if it’s not lymphoma, which is good, what about this pain in my shoulder and all the circulation issues and my veins standing out of my arm?

 So the good Doctor and I went through the whole history of “why I am here in the hospital today” from the very beginning. He had my t-shirt off and poked about and gave the whole arm a thorough inspection. He looked at all the test results, even back to 2008 when I first started seeing him[1] and the general conclusion was. “Well … fuck only knows what’s wrong with you to be honest! Could still be lymphoma… maybe it’s sarcoidosis, or a thrombosis or… well… um…”

 So it’s time for a bank of tests. At this point, especially when they start talking stuff like sarcoidosis, I am expecting a grizzled Hugh Laurie to wander in with a cane and start popping pills. Blood tests for the sarcoidosis. Ultrasounds and venograms to look at the circulation and finally, still, we need a lymph node!

 So realistically, the best big node is in my chest, so we now have two alternatives. Number one is a radical new clever treatment which involves ramming a endoscope down my aesophagus, with an ultrasound to see what’s going on and do keyhole surgery from inside my gullet to get samples that way. Alternatively, get a chest cutter to go in from the outside and whip the little bastard out that way. Dr. W is going to talk to the different surgeons and see which are willing to do the job. Either way, this time is probably a stay in St James in Leeds as the first option is radical and new, and BRI has no chest cutters.

 And I must have spent an hour in the consulting room, what with all the tests and of course Dr Lisa wanted to know what was going on as well, so Dr Alan popped in to see her and tell her all about it. It was, in fact, whilst he was going through all my test results that the power went out. It came straight back on as the hospital’s emergency gensets kicked in, ensuring that those poor sods on life support were kept breathing, but it did delay things as his PC had to be booted back up. I note that they are using Windows XP and Netware 4, if anyone cares.

 So it was a good job I was (deliberately so I wasn’t waiting about) one of the last patients in the queue. By this time of course, the vampires had gone home for the day, so I’ll have to pop over to BRI tomorrow for the blood tests.

 So I went home. My house doesn’t have an emergency genset, so it was another half hour or so before I the electricity came back on. I guess I’ll hear about some appointments for ultrasounds and stuff soon and back to see one of my consultants in 4 weeks time.

 [1] I had a lump in the skin on my arm, which turned out to be a plasma cytoma which could have been bad, turned out not to be, but regular annual blood tests “just in case” ever since. Actually, it was bad, as insurance companies hate it and wouldn’t give me income protection insurance.  Getting life insurance was hard enough, I can only imagine how hard it might be after this lymphoma[2] scary business.

[2] Or whatever it turns out to be.[3]

[3] Yes. I do like footnotes, actually.