The First Step

Day 1 first meeting.

Tuesday’s birth was clear greeted with clear pale blue skies, a gentle watery sun offered little in the way of warmth but much in the form of brightness, it was the kind of morning that is beautiful, but best viewed from a warm lounge or kitchen with a big mug of tea! The English Channel seemed to shimmer as gentle waves rippled at the shore line all the way along this part of the coast.  I know all this because on Tuesday morning I had to rise early,  far earlier than what has become usual awakening hour. I wasn’t in the kitchen with a big mug of tea looking out on the morning,  nope, I was out in it.  I cycled along the seafront, the wind chilled my fingertips and whilst my face stung a little,  I was glad to be out in the fresh air rather than riding the bus.  I arrived in Kemp Town a whole half hour earlier than expected and decided to walk around the massive footprint that is the site of the Brighton and Sussex University Hospital.  Now, if you’ve never been there, which is most likely, let me just explain that the hospital is a multitude of different buildings, at least sixteen by rough count and all of varying architectural styles and fashions, built at various times over the last hundred and something years to house all the different departments, clinics, wards and facilities.  It is a true hotchpotch higgledy-piggledy haphazard amalgamation of buildings with connecting corridors and walkways that really should come with their own ordinance survey map.  However, luckily for me, the building in which I was to go was right at the back and easy to locate.  As I entered it struck me a curious mongrel of a building, it’s first six of it’s nine stories are devoted to parking for cars, the first five of which are underground,  it’s only the top two floors that are routinely inhabited by people.

I gave my name at reception to a very effeminately camp gentleman of middle age and took a seat in the reasonably sized and almost empty waiting room.  I chuckled to myself as I heard the receptionist stumble over my name when he called to announce my arrival to the medical professional I was here to see.  I cant say I was nervous, although to be honest I was a little, I was more wishing I’d had a morning coffee to wake me up and my tummy grumbled wishing I’d consumed some breakfast prior to my departure from home.  However, I’d been asked to abstain from food and drink for a full twelve hours prior to my appointment, therefore my stomach was grumbling in vain for a few more hours it would have to wait.

Caroline, the co-ordinating sister,  was friendly, warm and welcoming as she guided me from the waiting room to the consulting room via what seemed like a cupboard to check my weight, height and body mass index.  I am, it appears, officially a little over weight and could do with disposing of some of the extra baggage that has accumulated around my middle.  There was lots to discuss and go over during this first initial meeting or consultation if you will, much to be explained and many questions answered.  Whilst the Caroline was affable and professional, I must admit that was I was a little nervous and a tad apprehensive, well we were talking over serious things, really serious things that will have life long implications.  Once I’d had some blood taken for various test the sister gave me a coffee, which soothed both my nerves and as well as my tummy.

We went over what would happen next on this long road, a programme of key events if you will,  nothing too daunting, just the next rung on the ladder as it were. My apprehension dissolved as some things were explained,  how it all worked and what I could expect if all things went well.  Sure I’d done plenty of research,  checking various sites online and that sort of thing, but it was still good to have someone explain it in detail face to face,  all fears were allayed which only served to further enhance the knowledge I’d made the right decision.

The next thing to do was to give a mid-stream urine sample for analysis,  which is not taken knee deep in a baby river, but half way through the actual peeing.  Now,  I don’t know if you’ve ever had to get a wee sample,  but rather surprisingly it isn’t the easiest thing in the world to master.  I mean,  there you are in a little hospital toilet, todger in one hand, little plastic cup in the other, waiting till your urine is coming out at a good pace before you swipe the cup in and collect a good amount of the slightly yellow liquid, without splashing the walls with your own bodily waste or pissing all over your hands, trousers and floor.  Then of course you’ve got to put yourself away with one hand so you can put the lid on the sample pot,  which isn’t exactly easy either. Thankfully,  I just about mastered this without too much mess!

I said goodbye,  at least for now,  to the Caroline,  the sister co-ordinating this whole thing after depositing my urine sample in her little tray along with the eight vials of my blood heading for various testing and cross matching.  I was then off to the next set of tests of the day,  which happened to be in a completely different building on the other side of the hospital site.  I wandered down the hill around the front of the site and into what could arguably be the oldest part of the hospital with walls a metre thick and that traditional hospital look in the long corridors with a multitude of doors emanating off it.   Thanks to expert directions I found the reception of for the imaging and x-ray department with no trouble and after handing over the first of two appointment cards that Caroline had given me, I took a seat in a  small and very crowded waiting room that had a rather odd whiff about it.  I wanted to play the typical hospital waiting room game of guess the complaint, but I had no one to play against and besides the crutches kind of gave the game away.  After what seemed like a little over five minutes I was called and escorted to another room,  a rather big one with an odd coolness about it.  I’d arrived in an x-ray suite, big long bed,  giant x-ray machines,  control room behind it’s protective shield.  Released of my jacket and all things metal I was positioned in front of a machine, gently manoeuvred into place before another machine was pulled up close behind me. The radiologist dashed off behind the screen and after holding my breath for a wee while,  a nice x-ray of my chest was taken.

ECG (not mine!)

Cardiology was my next port of call in this morning of medical exploration which happened to be at the other end of the corridor in this amalgam of ancient buildings.  Ok,  that is a little unfair,  it’s not ancient really,   it only dates back to 1826!  Apart from being at the other end of the corridor the waiting area for the cardiology department was much nicer, less crowded and frankly smelt a good deal better.  Again, my wait wasn’t long,  incredibly short in fact,  which was pleasing before a lovely nurse came and got me, in fact I felt I was almost queue jumping as I seemed to be called before others that were already in the waiting room.  This bubbly nurse took me into a little room and asked me to take my top off, not because she had an uncontrollable desire to see my excess bulk or tweak my nipples for fun,  but because I was here for an electrocardiogram.  A painless procedure where little pads are placed on the chest area,  a couple in ticklish spots on the side and one the front of each ankle.  These are all connected with wires leading to a box and after a minute or two out prints a lovely picture of ones heart function and circulation and when I say picture I really mean a mass of squiggly up and down lines on a graph,  yet the nurse called it a picture so who am I to argue?    She did two,  just to make sure there were no wiggles or squiggles and then that was it,  shirt was back on and I was out of the door after two and a bit hours after I went in.





That was last Tuesday,  The results are now in and I’m going in this Thursday for a follow up and feedback session with Caroline, the sister, apparently there were no unexpected results,  which is a good thing,  at least it sounds it, but I’ll know for sure on Thursday.  Thankfully the appointment is at a more Jason friendly time of mid-day rather than first thing in the morning and I’ll be able to eat and drink before this appointment.