Fecking OOOOWWWWWW!!!!
I've just had a piece of my ass removed... Large, black, misshapen mole that the consultant didn't like the look of. The thing was only 6mm across, but the scar left on my ass is 2 INCHES LONG. At least it was a female doctor who performed the operation. I wouldn't have liked to say that a male doctor has had a piece of my ass.
The new job at Outreach is ok. I just haven't been there for much of it so far. I was off most of last week charging around getting other moles looked at, to find out if I needed more of me removed. And this week I've been off work hobbling round the house going "Ow. Fucking can't pick anything up. Ow. Can't sit down. Ow." I have, however, fortunately discovered that my office chair makes my arse go numb, which is a great help. Lots of computer gaming time as therapy. Who'd have thought it?
No real excuses for slackness with posting on this blog, except being proccupied with health generally. Funny looking at Dataphage's posts, i.e. "The C Word". For me the C word has a whole different meaning. The sizeable chunk of my ass sitting in a lab waiting to be looked at for possible cell mutation has given this whole Compassion and Suffering thing a deeper perspective. Results in a couple of weeks. Stitches out on the 20th. If they find any problems with the sample they open me up again and remove even more tissue. Ho ho ho.
No more Bifters for me. Oh no. Strictly cakes from here on in.
I'm lined up for my health insurance to cover physiotherapy on my dicky shoulder. The shouder problem is on the same side as my recent excision (my left side), which means I'm generally half fucked at the moment. Heh.
Work. Hmmm. Some real cold bastard weather in Bristol has coincided with the late night/early morning rough sleeper head counts I've volunteered for so far. The weirdest one so far involved driving to the other side of Bristol to pick up my co-head counter, at 6:45 a.m. in a blizzard. On the one hand I was thinking "Cool! Snowballs and stuff!" On the other hand I was thinking "Vagrants buried under snow drifts. Do we have a shovel to go with the thermos of coffee?" In the end the snow melted within about three hours, and Bristol's regular homeless bods are savvy enough to have bolt-holes for this type of weather. I did nearly smash up the pool car by skidding on black ice though. Fun.
I seem to spend most of my time keyworking people I dealt with previously at the hostel. Which is kind of frustrating. I am dealing with a few new punters though. A French guy who came to Bristol to talk to his girlfriend after she dumped him, with five pounds in his pocket and no return train ticket. After consulting with my more experienced colleagues it was decided that he should bugger off back to Paris. We're letting him sleep rough in freezing conditions for a couple of nights to reinforce the validity of that option (the alternative is that he gets stuck in the system...). The other guy I'm dealing with is a real problem. Mental health stuff. Nowhere to put him kind of thing. Oh well. Sometimes there just aren't solutions (although this probably has a lot to do with my distinct lack of knowledge in this field at the moment. I'm sure all of the time off I've been having really helps...)
Hopefully my ass will have healed sufficiently for me to include regular jogging and suchlike as part of my New Year's resolution. Need to eat healthy stuff and stay well. I may even invest in a 'sunlight box'. A guy at work has one and its really good. Jebus. I'm getting old.
The new job at Outreach is ok. I just haven't been there for much of it so far. I was off most of last week charging around getting other moles looked at, to find out if I needed more of me removed. And this week I've been off work hobbling round the house going "Ow. Fucking can't pick anything up. Ow. Can't sit down. Ow." I have, however, fortunately discovered that my office chair makes my arse go numb, which is a great help. Lots of computer gaming time as therapy. Who'd have thought it?
No real excuses for slackness with posting on this blog, except being proccupied with health generally. Funny looking at Dataphage's posts, i.e. "The C Word". For me the C word has a whole different meaning. The sizeable chunk of my ass sitting in a lab waiting to be looked at for possible cell mutation has given this whole Compassion and Suffering thing a deeper perspective. Results in a couple of weeks. Stitches out on the 20th. If they find any problems with the sample they open me up again and remove even more tissue. Ho ho ho.
No more Bifters for me. Oh no. Strictly cakes from here on in.
I'm lined up for my health insurance to cover physiotherapy on my dicky shoulder. The shouder problem is on the same side as my recent excision (my left side), which means I'm generally half fucked at the moment. Heh.
Work. Hmmm. Some real cold bastard weather in Bristol has coincided with the late night/early morning rough sleeper head counts I've volunteered for so far. The weirdest one so far involved driving to the other side of Bristol to pick up my co-head counter, at 6:45 a.m. in a blizzard. On the one hand I was thinking "Cool! Snowballs and stuff!" On the other hand I was thinking "Vagrants buried under snow drifts. Do we have a shovel to go with the thermos of coffee?" In the end the snow melted within about three hours, and Bristol's regular homeless bods are savvy enough to have bolt-holes for this type of weather. I did nearly smash up the pool car by skidding on black ice though. Fun.
I seem to spend most of my time keyworking people I dealt with previously at the hostel. Which is kind of frustrating. I am dealing with a few new punters though. A French guy who came to Bristol to talk to his girlfriend after she dumped him, with five pounds in his pocket and no return train ticket. After consulting with my more experienced colleagues it was decided that he should bugger off back to Paris. We're letting him sleep rough in freezing conditions for a couple of nights to reinforce the validity of that option (the alternative is that he gets stuck in the system...). The other guy I'm dealing with is a real problem. Mental health stuff. Nowhere to put him kind of thing. Oh well. Sometimes there just aren't solutions (although this probably has a lot to do with my distinct lack of knowledge in this field at the moment. I'm sure all of the time off I've been having really helps...)
Hopefully my ass will have healed sufficiently for me to include regular jogging and suchlike as part of my New Year's resolution. Need to eat healthy stuff and stay well. I may even invest in a 'sunlight box'. A guy at work has one and its really good. Jebus. I'm getting old.
posted by bulabula at 12/08/2005 06:51:00 pm
3 Comments:
Ow. Fucking seriously bloody ouch.
Good luck with the biopsy of the arse chunk. You should see how paranoid people are about that kind of thing here - dermatologists accost you on street corners and companies have free checks on their health plans each quarter.
aye, yes...good luck with the arse test
A sunlight box, my dear Goat-san, is a box which emits light of roughly the same frequency as natural sunlight (looks a bit like a photography light box). It's better for you than artificial light from bulbs and fluorescent strips, and sitting infront of said box for an hour-or-so per day counters the effects of SAD. Not cheap (starting at £85 for a small one), but the one the bloke uses at work makes me feel good, so hey.
Dataphage - I think it's good that people come to you about your health (whatever their motives are). The amount of buck-passing, and 'Holier than thou' quacks furnishing me with absolutely fuck-all info about my situation... It's worse for my health than anything else. I end up finding out stuff on the inter-web bollocks and then confronting various GPs with it in search of answers. I'm tellin' ya, the next one gets a turd through the post (one that they can't redirect to a lab for analysis). The GP I saw most recently asked when I'd had my gall bladder removed. I started looking around for a scar as I have no recollection of this event. He sheepishly started editing my medical notes.
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