Oh... my... multiverse. What have I done there again? In contrast to normal, in this case I am aware of my mistake and apologise for it. I'm back again. Never actually left. Just in hospital for the third time in less than three months because of my cannula. Everything gets better with a cannula and all that. And that's pretty much what my short tweet in the style of X ex-Twitter was meant to be. My carer had packed my things for hospital. Once again. The ambulance is coming tomorrow morning at seven. Once again. Then it's off to the hospital. Once again. And my neck will be cheerfully nibbled on. Once again. Everything gets better with a cannula and all that. That my choice of words was so carelessly misleading, one could assume it was deliberate. It wasn't. No fountain pen writes stories like that, only life does. And as long as I still have ink on my fountain pen or my little eyes give me the strength to write, I won't say thank you. Thanks anyway, not only for the many comments, but also for the private messages galore.
What was going on with me anyway? I'll take the suspense out of it for a change and say up front that the operation went well, I'm fine, on the whole. As I mentioned in my blog, wild meat had formed underneath the cannula, which became inflamed and tore open when I moved. This causes hellish pain and looks pretty uncool when blood comes out of your airways during suctioning. The professor had a look at it, came all the way from Erlangn, clear judgement, the venison has to go. Self-healing, no, that won't work. And so I ended up in intensive care at the Martha Maria Hospital in Munich/Solln. The good reputation of the ENT there was convincing. Once again, Dr Herzog and his team did a good job. The operation was good. The surrounding area was rather average. The transport was one of the worst I've ever experienced. Next time I'll ask whether the paramedics are under time pressure. If the answer is yes, I'll refuse transport. Let them call 112, as I was threatened to do if I didn't co-operate. Co-operation meant doing without acute pain medication. An operation that was 22 hours ago or not. I will never forget the sentence. I would now have to take ten minutes of the others' time, as they also had appointments. And poof, it was gone, my voice computer. Muzzled, the patient, the transport can be completed. Similarly, the transport to the operating theatre. During the transfer, I was placed on my twisted left hand. Nobody looked at me. It's no surprise that the access on the back of my left hand didn't survive. That they only realised it in the operating theatre ... well, if they didn't look me in the eye once, who's surprised?
Rarely have I felt ignored as often as in the past few days. Patronised, my personal approachability threshold exceeded for no reason, my personal rights violated. I don't want to think about it any further. Let's learn for the future. So that it will be less dramatic next time. Next time, sure, of course there will be a next time. I'll have to go to the ENT practice in Geretsried to start with. Now that I'm fit for transport again. Yes, in fact, transportable, that's how I feel. It's quite strange. They scalp me in four places and I'm in less pain than before. No, I'm pain-free, that's right. Without painkillers. The first time since November. Okay, apart from the burning urge to urinate that I've been complaining about for a few days. Which, as it turns out, is the result of a bladder infection. I wonder where that came from. In general, a lot of things turned out during the operation. It wasn't one piece of venison at the bottom that caused the pain, but four of them. You couldn't see the sides from the outside. Would you like to see what it looks like? You can, I have it on tape. Including explanations from the doc himself about exactly what was removed, how and where. Cool guy. Just takes out the cannula, shows everything. And explains. And explained. And explains and explains. Unexpectedly lets me set a new personal best time for holding my breath. A proud 1:35 minutes without ventilation. I have lost a good apnoea diver. How nice that I have everything on video. How nice that you found your way here. You'll also find so much more reading material here that I'm saying goodbye very abruptly today, but only for today. Rest assured, there's so much more to come, we're only just getting started.
Enough of the suspense, two exciting minutes follow. With background music for reasons of data protection. Doesn't detract from the suspense. Just hold your breath with me as soon as my breathing tube is disconnected. Let's get going. Let's go!