As some of you will already know I had a third stay in hospital over the weekend.
I'd gone to bed on Thursday evening having spent an enjoyable evening with my daughter and Gary watching World War Z. By midnight it was noticeable that there were some spots/blotches around the top of my fat right leg ... and by very early morning they were worse and I was feeling less than 100%.
Calls were made to a certain telephone number where we had to quote my reference which relates to me and which avoids calling 111 etc. By 7am [it may have been earlier] I knew I was going to be taken to hospital with cellulitis again. I believe the prophylatic antibiotics I've taken for the last few months saved me from being as poorly though. I had a temperature though it wasn't so bad as the second trip to hospital in June and although I was sick in a convenient bedside bucket it was only fairly minor.
I wasn't a bundle of fun in the ambulance though. I just wasn't interested.
I wound up in a new department in hospital, Ambulatory Care, part of the CDU [Clinical Decisions Unit] and they kept me in a bed on Friday evening on the antibiotics I was on before during my second stay.
I had thought that surely on my third visit to hospital it couldn't be as eventful as the other two ... but it was ... with all sorts of men being walked in by the police and ambulance men and women. This included one young man who had taken an overdose of paracetamol [which could have done a lot of damage to his liver apparently] and an older man who was apparently drunk [he didn't sound or seem it] who had fallen down some steps and been brought in by the police into the bed next to me ... in the middle of the night. He was chatty ... with himself ... the lights were out ... everyone else [pretending to be] asleep. He kept saying "I think I might leg it ..." Next morning I learnt that he had, in fact, "legged it" preferring to walk to Alfreton 7 or 8 miles away rather than stay in a warm bed for the night.
Then on Saturday evening I was told I could go home provided I came back every day for an intravenous antibiotic injection. So on Sunday, Monday and today I've travelled the 11 miles to hospital for the fitting of a canulla, then an intravenous injection before the canulla is removed. It beats staying in hospital though it has to be said my forearms are rather more bruised than normal.
By this coming Friday I may well be clear to revert to prophylatic antibiotics. We'll see. Life is certainly far from dull at present ... and I still feel ok, that is the amazing thing.
