I’ve been off travelling for a couple of weeks on business.
It’s not glamourous, if that’s what you’re thinking – but when not in a datacentre, I did manage to get some pictures of Tokyo, Kitakyushu., and Singapore.
Having sorted out a server for storage etc at home, and install ProxMox, I decided it’d be nice to be able to play music without necessarily turning the iMac on. There started a hunt for something I could run on a linux box that would serve up my music collection in a way that was consumable on the home network.
I started out with Firefly, as that appears to be what’s install on ReadyNAS, QNAP etc. However, it seems that doesn’t play well with iTunes versions later than the mid fifteenth century. Worse, it’s no longer maintained.
Some more googling landed me at the door of forked-daapd. The version I first installed was whatever the default is on a Debian 6 install, and that also didn’t play well with modern iTunes.
However, installing the latest version in Squeeze Backports got me much more up to date. The server, once a small config was done, indexed the music, and was available on the network. iTunes saw it. iTunes connected to it. This isn’t an old iTunes, either, this is the latest iTunes 10.5 on Lion.
It soon became apparent that whilst all was looking good initially, when the library kicks off a re-index process, which by default it does every 5 mins, it sends an update message to iTunes, which it seems the latest iTunes doesn’t like. iTunes disconnects in a huff.
More googling turned up this, which confirms the above, and shows that it’s resolvable in the short term by stopping the periodic indexing. Longer term, I’d imagine that the correct thing to send to newer iTunes will be discovered.
In the mean time, however, forked-daapd will discover AirPort Express units on startup, and you can provide AirTunes passwords in the config file.
Better than that, you can pair the “Remote” app on an iPhone or iPod with forked-daapd, and control it.
This neatly resolves the disconnect problem, along with the need to have iTunes open, or indeed, the iMac powered on at all.
Tell forked-daapd to play, and play to the Airport, which is connected to an amp, and music appears. Brilliant.
I’ve been an irssi user for a while now; it does just what I want, and I’ve tuned my config to do just what I want, just how I want it done.
I recently got a new MacBook Pro, and soon had irssi installed.
I ran into the normal problem of notifications when I’m mentioned, or I get a PM.
If I’m busy on a different space, I’d like to be able to see a notification so that I can react to someone trying to get my attention.
So start with, google took me to http://matthewhutchinson.net/2010/8/21/irssi-screen-fnotify-and-growl-on-osx which took me to the irssi fnotify plugin script.
I’d prefer the script to notify growl directly, instead of logging to a file, and so I started looking to see how this might be achieved.
CPAN has a helpful Net::Growl module which installs nicely on the MacBook, and so modifying the fnotify script to use it was quite straight forward.
The script can be grabbed from https://github.com/karldyson/IrssiGrowl
To use it, simply drop it into your .irssi/scripts directory.
You can then /script load growl
If you want to autorun the script, simply symlink it to your .irssi/scripts/autorun directory.
There are currently two settings, one for the password you set when you enabled network settings in Growl (you did set a password, right?) and one for the host to use. It defaults to localhost, but there’s no reason you couldn’t use it on a non Mac and have it remote notify to a Mac. You could run irssi on a linux box, and have it remote notify your Mac across your network (firewalls, etc, permitting!).
Edited to add…
You’ll want to go and look in Growl’s preferences and enable the ‘Listen for incoming notifications’ on the Network tab, and also ‘Allow remote application registration’. You really should set a password for this, too. You need to be aware that the password will be saved in clear text in your .irssi/config file.
Michelle and I were lucky enough to be selected to marshal the British Grand Prix this year.
Following on from that, we were very pleased to find our post allocation for the weekend was “Farm”, or for those less familiar with the corner names, that’s the first corner.
The rain on Friday made for an interesting time, with a small selection of visitors to our gravel, and a little work for the JCB.
We managed to get dried out in the marquee before heading back to the tent for the night.
We didn’t get any more visitors, but were directly opposite our collegues at Pit Exit, and watched in dismay as Jensen Button’s car came to a halt, and was pushed back into the safety gap. At that point, we were unsure as to what had happened.
The exhilaration at the start of the Grand Prix as the lights go out and the cars race head on towards you before heading around the corner, was simply amazing. Words can’t express the feeling of actually being there.
When off duty, or in suitable gaps in the proceedings we were able to take a couple of pics. Otherwise, of course, the camera was away in the bag in the post chief’s hut, as cameras and being ready for an incident are not a good mix.
There was a Red Arrows display on Sunday, but two things scuppered my picture taking – firstly, most of the display was blocked out by the BRDC grandstand, and secondly, it sporadically rained quite a bit during the display, and so it was quite hard to have the camera out and ready for the next bit that was visible!
Anyway, hope you enjoy the pics…
Spent the weekend marshalling the FIA GT1 meeting at Silverstone. The Loop, to be exact.
It’s the first time we’ve done this meet, and really enjoyed the 3 days of GT1, GT3, GT4 & Lamborghini racing.
After we were finished on Sunday, we popped down to the new pit lane and had a little look around, and took some pics.
Had a great weekend camping with friends at Charrettfest IV
If you’ve switched on IPv6, whether via a tunnel, or natively, your machine is likely to have stepped out from behind NAT and now has a globally routable address.
Whilst NAT is not security, and inbound connections to your machine are likely behind a firewall, that doesn’t change one thing: in many cases your IPv6 address is made up automatically by auto-configuration.
It’s made up of two parts, the last 64 bits are put together partly from the MAC address of your network interface, and the rest comes from the network prefix.
This makes your machine globally identifiable, and therefore, trackable by third parties, such as web sites.
To this end, RFC3041, superceeded by RFC 4941 defines privacy extensions.
When enabled, your machine still has the auto-configuration address, but now also has a randomised additional address that changes periodically and is used for outbound connections.
On many linux distributions this is disabled by default. Windows XP is the same. Windows Vista enables it by default, and I believe newer versions of Windows also enable it by default.
I don’t have access to any Windows Server installations with IPv6, so I’m unsure if the server editions do this too.
I mention servers, as you probably don’t want this on a server. Imagine, for example, a mail server making an outbound connection from a random and short lived IP address. It’s unlikely to have a valid PTR, for example, and many, not all I grant you, but many MTAs will not like that.
Enabling it on linux distributions is quite straight forward:
as root:
echo 2 > /proc/sys/net/ipv6/conf/all/use_tempaddr
You can automate this at boot in the normal way; edit /etc/sysctl.conf and add the line:
net.ipv6.conf.all.use_tempaddr=2
You can swap all for a specific IPv6 enabled interface, such as eth0 if you require.
OS X has it disabled by default. I believe you can add to, or create /etc/sysctl.conf with the following:
net.ipv6.conf.all.use_tempaddr=1
Don’t quote me on that last one; I’ve not tested it!
Following on from my previous posts on my history and resulting surgery, I’m writing what I hope will be my last entry on this chapter of my life.
It’s just over 5 weeks since my surgery, and it’s gone very well, actually.
As mentioned in the previous article, I woke up with no pain, and was discharged the day after surgery.
I was advised to take the pain killers for 2 weeks, and to stop the Ibuprofen component after the first week. To clarify; I was on 400mg Ibuprofen 3 times a day, and 1g Paracetamol 4 times a day, so I was taking Paracetamol at 7am, 12pm, 5pm, 10pm, and Ibuprofen at 7am, 3pm, 10pm. In actual fact, I stopped the Ibuprofen after a week, and decided to stop the paracetamol a day or so later, figuring I could always start taking them again if any discomfort or pain appeared. Well, it turned out that I didn’t take them again at all.
I’d also been taking 40mg Omeprazole every day, and stopped those 2 weeks after surgery to see if any symptoms came back before my follow up consultation.
Well, I’m pleased to say that it’s 3 weeks later, I’ve had no indigestion, heartburn, etc at all.
The wounds are healing very well, and the surgeon was pleased with them at the followup consultation earlier today.
There are other side effects that are mentioned, and you’re warned about, of course. These are due to the body adjusting to the fact that bile produced no longer gets stored up until there is need for it, and simply drips into the intestines as it’s produced. It takes time to adjust, but I was told that as my stones were quite big, that there may be an element of overflow anyway, and that adjusting may not be too bad for me. Well, the first week was interestingly loose, with it firming up in the second week. During this time, there was a need to be near a toilet as I didn’t seem to get huge amounts of notice that I’d need to go. However, this rapidly resolved itself in the 3rd week, and indeed, I worked from home during the 3rd week. I had sufficient confidence as to my porcelain needs, if you catch my drift, to return to commuting to the office (an hours drive) from the start of the 4th week.
It’s now the start of the 6th week since surgery, and I’d say I’m back to normal, but it’s better than that; I’m better than normal – I’ve had no pain, no discomfort, not even the slightest indigestion.
If you’re reading this because you have gallstones and are trying to decide, I can honestly say that I would do it again. If you want to contact me to ask me about my experience, go ahead. I’ve tried to brain dump into these 3 articles as much as possible, partly so I can remember bits of what happened, when, hopefully, this is all behind me and nothing but a blip on my history.
I’d like to take this opportunity to publicly express my thanks to all the staff in the Wytham Wing, and on the Upper GI Ward at The Churchill Hospital, Oxford, for the care I received leading up to, and through my surgery. Many other people were involved in caring for me during my tests (starting at SEU at The John Radcliffe Hospital, Oxford, and later at The Manor Hospital, Oxford) and it would not be possible to list and thank them all individually.
My thanks especially go to the surgeon, Bruno Sgromo, and his team. At all times, I was kept informed of all options, everything was discussed with me in order to make an informed choice, during procedures everything was explained. I felt calm, which when you see the scope to be used for an endoscopy, isn’t all that easy, and more than anything, they put up with my questions, and reassured my worries. Further information on the conditions treated are available on his website at http://oxford-surgery.co.uk. I can’t recommend him or his team highly enough.
Following on from my previous post, I had surgery last Friday, 25th Feb.
Similarly to that post, I’ve written this while it’s fairly fresh in my mind, partly for my own records, but on my blog rather than somewhere private, in case it’s of use or comfort to someone else going through this. Also, just like the last post, it’s written by me, and so may have badly remembered facts in it, missed details, etc.
I went to the hospital with my wife, and arrived there around 10:30am.
After a short wait, I was taken to the Upper GI Ward, and shown to a private room with it’s own telly, direct diallable phone and bathroom.
My wife was told she’d be able to stay in the room and watch telly while I went for surgery, and that they’d keep her up to date with my progress.
The surgeon came to see me, and once again, we discussed the risks associated with the surgery, as well as the risks for not having surgery. I had wondered if they would check if there were any escaped stones in my bile duct, and also how they check if there is any obvious damage to the bile duct caused by the surgery. He calmly explained how this is done, and with my mind at ease, he showed me his ID and I signed the consent paperwork.
My next visit was from the anaesthetist, who asked me a selection of questions, before telling a nurse what medication I was to have before surgery, and he left saying he’d see me shortly.
The nurse returned with a selection of tablets that I washed down with minimal water, and then changed into one of those lovely hospital gowns, and a pair of nice tight ‘long haul’ socks to minimise DVT during my stay.
And then it was time. It doesn’t matter how great the confidence you have in the nursing staff looking after you, or the confidence you have in the surgeon that will operate on you; surgery, for me, at least, was a little frightening, and I was quite nervous. My wife was allowed to walk with us a little way, but we had to hug and part at the doors with the “Staff Only” sign, and a sign indicating this was the way to the operating theatres.
We walked to the theatres and into the outer prep room, where I lay down on the bed.
The nurse attached pads to my chest and side for a machine that measured my heart rate, and attached a blood pressure monitor to my right arm that started taking my blood pressure every few minutes. She also wrapped my legs in things that looked like oversize shin guards, which she said helped prevent DVT during surgery. These were on top of the fetching socks I was already wearing!
The anaesthetist inserted a line into my left hand, having shaved the back of my hand and wrist, and the nurse connected it to a drip.
The anaesthetist then placed a pad of some description on my forehead and explained that this was his favoured method of keeping a check on how asleep I was during surgery, and that it monitored my brain waves. He connected it up to a machine I couldn’t see.
He warned me that he was going to place an oxygen mask over my face, and to breath normally. After a few minutes, he explained he was going to introduce something to my drip that might feel cold in my arm (I didn’t feel it at all, actually), and to stay calm. I noticed the clock on the wall said 2pm as I drifted away.
Apparently, I was woken up at the end of surgery while still in the theatre and asked how I felt. Apparently, I didn’t open my eyes, but with a big smile said that I was happy the pain in my back would be gone. I don’t remember this at all.
I became aware of a voice saying “Karl, can you hear me, Karl?”. Everything was fuzzy and out of focus. I blinked a couple of times. “Karl? Can you hear me?” Yes, I said, I can hear you, but I’m disorientated and everything is fuzzy.
This is the first thing I remember afterwards. As the room came into focus, I noticed a clock on the wall. It was 5pm.
I asked if someone could tell my wife I was awake, and the nurse started checking I could move my feet, legs etc, before putting massagers on my lower legs. I was still hooked up to the various monitoring machines, as well as the oxygen mask. This didn’t concern me, as I’d been warned that this would be the case at the pre-operation assessment.
I didn’t feel sick, I wasn’t sick, nor did I experience any pain when I woke. This kind of surprised me, as my previous experience of surgery involved being sick on waking up after surgery, but this was just like pleasantly waking up after a sleep, and I was surprised how relaxed and calm I felt.
Time seemed to tick by quite quick, and at around 5.40pm it was decided I could return to my room. I was wheeled through the hospital and back to my room where my wife was waiting. It was certainly good to see her.
The surgeon had been to see her after surgery, and explained there had been some delay starting, as between them they couldn’t persuade the bed to rise to operating height, and so had had to swap me to another bed and start over. He went on to explain to her that my gall bladder had been very inflamed, and that if like that 3 days after I’d been in pain, I must have been in a lot of pain. He went on to say that as it was, it was likely that it had been the cause of all my symptoms; no guarantee, but that it was likely I’d be 100% after I’d recovered. There had been no complications during surgery.
A short while later, he came to see me, and explained to me as above. He said that there was no pressure to go home, but that as things had gone well, I could do so if I wanted to; if I felt I’d be more comfortable at home. Personally, I felt more calm knowing that in the unlikely event of a problem, a nurse was at the other end of my call button for that first night, and besides, by this point it was 7 or 8pm, and I didn’t fancy trying to go home in the dark, and wet weather. My wife stayed until around 9.15pm before driving home.
I didn’t really feel tired, and despite switching the light out, didn’t fall asleep. I’d been unhooked from the heart rate and blood pressure monitors so they didn’t disturb me, and when the nurse returned with more pain killers at 11pm, unhooked me from the drip. I watched some telly until around 1am, and tried to sleep some more, but with no joy. For some reason, I didn’t feel worried by this, just nice and calm. I’d been told I could use my phone in my room, and so Twitter and Facebook provided some entertainment for a few hours, before I managed to snooze a little. A nurse came by to take my blood pressure and temperature around 2am.
Around 6.30am, a nurse came by with some more pain killers. The surgeon had changed my chart when he visited the evening before, so I was now on 1g paracetamol and 400mg ibuprofen at various intervals. I wasn’t sure what I’d had at 11pm, but by 6.30am I wasn’t in any pain or discomfort. I took the 1g paracetamol at around 7am.
The surgeon returned to visit me again at around 8.30am, and enquired how I felt. I explained I’d had the paracetamol, and that standing up fully felt like it was pulling on the wounds. He asked if I could breath fully in without pain, and whilst there was no pain, there was a little discomfort. He advised taking the ibuprofen as well, and explained that for the first week, I should continue this. He explained he’d see me in 4 weeks to see how the wounds were healing, and to see if I had any of the side effects we’d discussed. He explained I would be discharged that day, and could go home.
To me, it seems like a huge advance in surgery, when having had an organ removed, you can go home the next day. Indeed, I could have gone home the same day, especially had my surgery been earlier in the day.
My wife arrived around 11am, and sat with me.
As a random aside; for at least the last 20 years I knew I had bad breath, and no amount of dietary changes, toothpaste, mouthwash etc had changed that. I’d come to accept it. To clarify, my breath was not nice, and often had a whif of nail polish remover. She’d noticed the day before when I returned from surgery, and on noticing again on that Saturday morning, remarked to me that the awful breath I’d had for all the time she’d known me had simply gone.
At around 1pm, a nurse arrived with my discharge paperwork, and a prescription for 1g paracetamol to be taken every 4 – 6 hours, and also for 400mg ibuprofen, to be taken 3 times a day.
My wounds were checked and cleaned, and I went home.
Over the past 14 months, I’ve sporadically been quite ill. During the latter stages of getting this investigated, it turns out the cause has likely been responsible for some pain and illness I’ve had for around 4 years, maybe longer.
I decided to write this, partly to document what happened to me, and partly in case any of it is helpful to someone else. It’s wholly from memory, and my perspective on what’s happened.
The first instance I can remember was around the end of 2006, and as that was a bit of a stressful time in my private life, I assumed it was stress related.
I would get a pain right across my chest, just around the level of the bottom of my ribs. Back in 2006 it was uncomfortable, and went within an hour or so, was generally early to mid evening, and so I assumed it was indigestion. I also assumed, as I said, that it was aided by stress, and so took some anti-acid tablets or gaviscon each day and that seemed to clear it up.
The whole episode lasted about 6 to 8 weeks I guess. Not every day, sometimes not every week, but here and there.
As quickly as it had arrived, it went again, and it wasn’t until around December 2009 that it returned. We’d got married, and moved house, and while both enjoyable experiences, the organisation of them is well known to be stressful.
This time, however, the pain came on, and didn’t let up. It started out like indigestion, but gradually concentrated up around the bottom of my ribs. By around 9pm, having tried anti-acid tablets, as well as some pain killers, with nothing touching it, and the pain now unbearable, my wife called the GP practice out of hours number. When they called back, she explained the situation, asked some questions, and then asked her to drive me to the local A&E.
On arrival at A&E, with the pain still there, I was examined by a Doctor. They gave me some codeine which numbed the pain, and some omeprazole, and told me to go and see my GP as soon as possible.
The following morning, with the pain gone, I arranged to see my GP. They examined me, and suggested I was producing too much acid and that this could be stress related. It was suggested that this may have given me an ulcer or the start of one. This seemed to go with my analysis of my situation. The GP put me on 20mg omeprazole for 6 weeks.
While I was on the omeprazole I had no symptoms whatsoever, but within 2 weeks of coming off them, the pain was back; mild and bearable on it’s first visit, but I wasn’t waiting for the full volume of pain I’d bad before, and returned to my GP.
Different GPs were available on different days, and so I saw I different GP by chance. They suggested that I should have been on omeprazole for at least 8 weeks, not 6, and so prescribed 8 weeks of 20mg omeprazole. I also got an appointment to see a nurse to have a blood sample taken to test for helicobacter pylori. The blood test showed negative, and within 2 weeks of finishing the omeprazole, I was back at the GP having had a mild return of pain.
I saw the original GP, who, this time, took a slightly different approach; suggesting I wasn’t as thin as I might be, and that this could be squishing my stomach and pushing acid up into my oesophagus, causing my pain. It was suggested that I could have an endoscopy, but that it’s an unpleasant experience and I seemed to be steered to continuing as we were. There was also a suggestion that the drop off from 20mg of omeprazole’s suppression of acid production was upsetting the stomach, and that a lower dose might be in order. To that end, I was prescribed 3 months of 10mg omeprazole, and I was to take them every other day for the last 2 weeks to try and taper off the end, minimising the impact of ‘normal’ acid production once off of the medication.
I did as instructed, and at the end of the medication, took it one day at a time. All seemed to be fine. I had one very mild dose, but it was a lot more like indigestion, and I’d over indulged a little that day, so I let it slide. All appeared to be going well, and I thought it was all behind me.
However, on Dec 22nd 2010, I had another mild dose of what I thought was indigestion, but it did make me start to think I should return to the GP and push for the endoscopy. I decided to do this between Christmas and New Year, or early in the new year, depending on when I could get an appointment.
My plans were sped up, somewhat, when on Christmas Day, having avoided anything that I though may provoke symptoms, and certainly not over indulged, the indigestion feeling started arriving early evening. By mid evening, it started to become clear that it wasn’t indigestion, and I took some anti-acid tablets. A short while later, I took some co-codamol pain killers as the pain was starting to get unbearable. Around half hour later when the pain wasn’t easing, if anything it was still building, I called the GP out of hours number. They called me back, and after asking me questions, asked me if someone could take me to the local A&E.
A kind neighbour that had not been drinking (it’s Christmas Day, remember), drove my wife and I to A&E and I was seen pretty much straight away. The doctor investigated, and said she would give me some omeprazole. With over a year’s experience, I knew that omeprazole wasn’t going to deal with the pain now it was there, and explained this. They seemed concerned that the co-codamol also hadn’t helped at all. They were concerned enough to admit me to the Surgical Emergency Unit at the John Radcliffe Hospital. The kind neighbour had hung around and took us to the hospital.
There was a short wait once there, but within about 45 mins of arriving I was seen by a triage doctor, who asked questions and examined me. By this point, the pain had been almost unbearable for about 4 hours, and started to subside. They’d taken blood and urine samples for testing, and decided more tests were needed. As it was now around 1am, they kept me in over night. They gave me 40mg omeprazole, inserted a line for a drip, just in case, and I slept for a few hours.
The following morning, Boxing Day, I was in radiology at 6.45am, having my chest and abdomen x-rayed.
A little later, I was told that the doctors were having another look at my x-rays, as they couldn’t decide what additional tests were required, and a short while after this, a selection of people arrived in my room, including the doctor that had examined me the night before. He gave a report, which to my non-medical ears simply contained a lot of the word ‘unremarkable’. Even to my untrained ear, this seemed to indicate they couldn’t find anything wrong, and I worried, briefly, that they would say it was stress, or similar, and send me on my way. After the report, one of the other doctors explained that he suspected I had biliary colic, and that as long as the omeprazole seemed to be dealing with the symptoms for the time being, I would be discharged but must come back to his clinic as an out patient for further tests.
I was overjoyed. Someone had said I had something wrong. My pain was being caused by something. I almost didn’t care what, at that point, just that someone had said something was wrong and needed further investigation.
I have private health care cover, and so I invoked this, to try and speed things along a bit.
In due course, I received an appointment for an endoscopy. I now knew that the person receiving the report on boxing day and suggesting I attend his clinic, was a consultant surgeon, and it was him that was conducting the endoscopy. I’d thought I would be fully sedated, but he explained that this would involve me remembering nothing of the procedure afterwards. He explained that if possible, it’s generally easier to have a local anaesthetic throat spray, and to be fully aware of what is going on. He added that I could be sedated at any time, if it got too much. At all times, what was happening was explained, if something would be a little uncomfortable, such as swallowing the camera, it was all explained well in advance.
The procedure only took around 15 minutes, and I was glad in the end that I’d gone without sedation. I could hear what the surgeon was saying to me, and also to the nurses. A biopsy sample was taken, along with a photograph of the valve leading from my stomach to my duodenum. It showed that I have reflux of bile from the duodenum back up into the stomach. Given I’m on 40mg omeprazole, this isn’t good.
I also received an appointment for ultrasound, and this showed up the main culprits: I have 2 gallstones, 14mm and 16mm, in my gallbladder.
I had a follow up consultation where the situation was discussed. The biopsy result showed mild gastritis. It was explained that the 2 gallstones I knew about, whilst causing the sporadic and unpredictable pain, and by now, an almost constant ache in my back, were actually only part of the problem. To go with them, there will undoubtedly be smaller stones, and there is a risk that these can escape the gallbladder, and get stuck in the common bile duct. If they do, they can block the pipe where it is shared with the pancreas. This can cause pancreatitis. This, in turn, comes in two flavours; mild, and acute. Acute pancreatitis is fatal. 30% of pancreatitis cases are acute. Of course, they could be quiet, and cause me no problems for the rest of my life. There were also a lot of ‘possible’ and ‘could’ in there, but the bottom line was the word ‘fatal’ appeared.
The suggested treatment is to remove the gall bladder via keyhole surgery. This, of course, has risks associated with it, but even before hearing them, I was thinking that as long as none of them had any mention of ‘fatal’ in them, I’d go ahead with the surgery.
As it turns out, the main risk is of injury to the common bile duct, either during surgery, or due to scarring afterwards. Papers suggest it happens in between 1 in 300 and 1 in 500 patients. The obvious question was what was his track record like? He’s done around a thousand, with no occurrences. This is a good track record as far as I was concerned, and surgery was still the answer for me. If it did occur, the symptoms would be unpleasant, and would likely require further surgery to fix, but it’s not a life threatening condition.
There’s also a lesser risk that the body won’t adapt to having bile dripping through from the liver to the intestines all the time, instead of via the gall bladder, however, it’s likely that my largeish stones and diseased gall bladder would be causing an overflow and similar symptoms anyway, and it’s thought I’d adapt. Even if I don’t, it can be fixed with some medication.
So, going with surgery involves:
Going without surgery involves:
One of the key things for me, was that if I didn’t have the surgery, I’d continue to get the pain. I’d presumably get used to it, and just go lie down and suffer through it, maybe with some pain killers. This means that one day, I could dismiss the pain as “just another attack” when it could be pancreatitis.
I didn’t need to make a choice right there and then, but even before discussion with my wife and family, it seemed that the sane, sensible choice, was to have the surgery. This was still the case after talking to them.
An appointment was quickly made for the end of the following week. It was at an NHS hospital, rather than the wholy private hospital I’d been to for all my tests, but I’m no private hospital snob, and couldn’t honestly see why I would pick one over the other. It was explained that whilst I shouldn’t need it, the NHS hospital had full A&E as well as intensive care. As I said, I wasn’t bothered either way, and had invoked the private cover to make things go quicker, which they certainly were.
3 days before surgery, I went to the hospital for a pre-operation assessment. This basically involved some blood samples, an examination, and a bunch of questions, all to make sure I was health and fit for surgery.
That night, I had an episode of pain. It was the first time I’d had the pain whilst actually on omeprazole, and frankly, when it escalated to the worst the pain had been, and quite simply unbearable, I called the GP out of hours number. I was frightened. They called back, asked questions, and the trip to A&E was on. The doctor saw me about 45 minutes after I arrived, and I explained the situation. He gave me anti-sickness and anti-spasmodic injections and left me to lie down in an adjoining room for around half an hour. When he returned, I noted that that pain was still as bad, but I didn’t seem quite so bothered by it. I returned home with some Tramadol that I was to take if needed for the pain.
The pain subsided enough for me to sleep, but it was still there to a lesser degree when I woke up on Wednesday morning. I took one of the tramadol tablets and was left with a crampy stitch kind of feeling that lingered most of the day. This was a first as well, and I was glad surgery was just around the corner.
I called the hospital I was due to have surgery at, as I didn’t know if what had happened was important. The surgeon’s secretary called me back a while later and asked if A&E had taken any blood samples. They hadn’t, but apparently a blood sample tested for amylase could have told them if I was developing pancreatitis. There seemed to be some consideration as to whether or not to bring my surgery forward, but in the end it wasn’t. I was instructed to call the hospital if the pain returned prior to surgery.
As it stands, I’m due for surgery tomorrow, Friday 25th Feb.
Recent Photos
© Karl Dyson 2010
This work by Karl Dyson is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Non-Commercial-No Derivative Works 2.0 UK: England & Wales License.
Twitter
LinkedIn
Facebook
Youtube
Flickr
LinkedIn