This was, of course, to continue the investigation into the pain in my shoulder and nothing at all to do with lymph nodes, the two things being apparently unrelated. Given that I have a vein sticking up in my arm on the affected side, it was decided that a ‘doppler ultrasound’ would be done, to look at the blood vessels.

So, I duly arrived just before 11am, the appointed time for my procedure and was directed to the ‘Red waiting room’. As I walked in, the room was empty, but quickly began to fill with a number of elderly patients and their carers.

Now I feel I would like to have a moan on behalf of the elderly and their carers. It transpired that most of these people were here to have steroid injections into some joint or other, presumably to assist in movement. At least two of the patients couldn’t get about without much assistance and hence the presence of their carers to look after them. Because they couldn’t get about, they had been brought in ambulances, as the hospital didn’t allow patients with poor mobility to come under their own steam. Conversely, the carers weren’t allowed to ride in the ambulances. This led to the bizarre situation where a patient who couldn’t walk, needed to get into a changing room to put a gown on, but had no carer present to help them get there, nor to get changed as the ambulance had been able to arrive, whilst the carer was still caught in traffic. The level of utter and complete stupidity present in this system is incredible. Then there was the poor old dear, who because her ambulance had been late collecting her, had missed her appointment and was therefore not going to be seen. For the second time! What’s going on with this? It’s so utterly rediculous my mind absolutely boggles. Seriously, it’s the creation of arbitrary rules based on some health and safety policy which amounts to little more than an arse covering exercise for some idiot[4] who really hasn’t thought through the ramifications.

Anyway, back to me. So I’m there with the old people in this waiting room and time is slowly ticking by. I’m passing the time reading ‘20,000 Leagues Under the Sea’ on my phone. I want to say that Jules Verne is a pompous arse. He goes off into these endless descriptions in which he presumes the reader to have a well rounded scientific background with particular specialisation in taxonomy, as he tosses in phrases like

“brilliant specimens of molluscs which strewed the ground by the thousands, of hammerheads, donaciae (veritable bounding shells), of staircases, angel-wings and many others”

Say what, Jules? Donaciae? And I’m none the wiser for “veritable bounding shells”, but thanks for trying.[5] I mean, I’m not generally a one for dumbing things down, but actually, “some pretty shells” would have worked for me in this context.

He also expects you to know every invention included in his books, by simple reference to the inventor. For example, to provide oxygen for their dive outside the Nautilus they will use the Rouquayrol apparatus[6]. He is obsessed with providing specific measurements

“and the sea, lit by our four lanterns was illuminated for a circle of thirty-six yards”

Well, I didn’t see anything in the narrative about bringing a tape measure, nor of Conseil being sent to do any measuring, so quite how he comes up with his numbers is beyond me. This all coupled with irritatingly giving values of things and in livres to boot (e.g. some otter fur apparently worth L80), a currency not used in France for some 75 years by the date of publication and for 71 years by the time in which the book is set makes the writing style quite irritating and though I’ve struggled along through just under half of the book, I am simply getting more and more wound up by the author and think I will probably simple give it up as a bad job. I mean, ok I know it was published in 1870, but I’ve read other 19th century literature and seriously, Jules Verne is well… now I come to think about it – dull.[7]

This whole discourse I trust adds some scope to how long I was waiting, in the confines of the ‘Red Waiting Room’ for my scan. As I waited, all the other patients were dealt with and after a time, I asked the trainee radiographer who was buzzing in and out when I might get seen. He took my details and promised to find out.

A little while later (said trainee had been in with a patient and not had the chance to check) it transpired that nobody had any idea I was there. Despite reporting to reception and them telling me where to be, my existence had not been communicated to the clinical staff. Furthermore, my presence came as a surprise as on their lists, I wasn’t due to be seen until 1pm that afternoon. Apparently they ask ward patients to attend at 11am, to report to the ward and get any blood tests or whatever that might be needed prior to the procedure. Walk in patients, such as myself are normally asked to attend in the afternoon. Somehow someone messed up and had me ‘walk in’ at the ward time. They embarrassedly hurried up a doctor to do the scan and shortly after I entered one of the rooms.[8]

I was met by a Doctor Fowler, a rotund gentlemen with a large beard and we began to discuss the case history. This was actually quite a shock. He quickly realised that I knew much about my issue and was in a position to have a meaningful discussion about it and therefore did so. I can’t actually describe how good it feels to be able to discuss the issues one is having with an appropriate medical professional and for once not to be patronised. Up and onto the table and the gel is applied along with the buzzer. The good doctor turns the monitor so I can see it and points out the various blood vessels and what they are doing and generally gives good commentary on what he’s up to, which makes the process quite fascinating in its own way and does a lot to redeem the ultrasound unit generally for their past sins. The scan complete, he can’t find anything wrong.

So we step up to phase 2. As the ultrasound gets nowhere, we’re going into a vein with the contrast dye and getting the x-ray machine out[9]. Getting into a vein is pretty easy, as I have this one sticking up in a “Pick me! Pick me!” kind of way and so that’s the one we use. Much as with the CT scan, I have to breath in and out and hold breaths and so forth, however it’s much more pleasant being politely requested so to do by one’s doctor, rather than being barked at by a machine in an american accent. This procedure turns up some useful information as it transpires that there is a constriction in one of the veins, back inside the shoulder quite deep in. This is the one which then sticks up in my arm and the constriction is shortly before it joins up with other bigger arm veins. It’s not enough to block anything, but enough to show that something is going on locally in that area.

Unfortunately this isn’t a diagnosis by any means, but has shown “where to look”. The fact that my thumb is slightly numb suggests there is something generally odd in there which is pressing on things (including thumb nerve) and the doctor thought they might go back and have another look at my earlier CT scan which might be revealing now they have a specific place to check.

I hope to hear something soon abut this. In the meantime, the hospital have sent me a comedy appointment for a doctor I’ve never heard of. On querying this, they are as mystified as me. Apparently he’s another haemotologist. Upon checking with the departmental secretary, they don’t want me to come for that at all, but simply to maintain my existing appointment to see Dr Alan next month – by which time we hope I will have had the chest op to get the lymph node biopsy…

…oh yes and the results back from the lab.

[1] A lie.
[2] Another lie.
[3] Lies. Lies. Lies.
[4] Actually I presume, a committee of idiots.
[5] Bean clams (I looked it up), but to me, a clam is a clam.
[6] A primitive aqualung.
[7] I’m getting easily sidetracked in this note.
[8] Wearing the obligatory stupid gown, but at least they didn’t make me strip completely for an arm scan this time.
[9] A venogram.