IMPORTANT: The following journal is intended for the use and viewing of approved persons only and may contain information that is confidential, privileged or unsuitable for overly sensitive persons with low self-esteem, no sense of humour or irrational religious beliefs. Any dissemination, distribution or copying of this work is not authorised (either explicitly or implicitly) and constitutes an irritating social faux pas. Unless the word ‘absquatulation’ has been used in its correct context somewhere other than in this warning, it does not have any legal or grammatical use and may be ignored. No animals were harmed in the creation of this journal and a minimum of Microsoft software was used. Those of you with an overwhelming fear of the unknown will be gratified to learn that there is no hidden message revealed by reading this warning backwards.

Year View| Summary| Highlights| Month View| Saturday 24 August 2002 (Day View)

24.08.2002Saturday 24 August

I woke up early for a change. Malarchy has been missing for a few days now. It’s starting to look as though he may not be coming back. He just disappeared and hasn’t been seen since.
Packing
I started to pack my stuff up for hospital. I don’t need much. A few changes of clothes and some personal hygiene gear.
Worried
I’m pretty scared.
  I’ve already had almost unbearable agony, being slowly sliced open, the doctor pressing her whole weight onto the blade to slice through the muscular wall and through my ribcage to place a chest tube – with no anaesthetic. They stuffed up. It was unbearably painful to move, so I was immobile for nearly three weeks. My lung began to fill with fluid so I had to be airlifted to Cairns hospital, as Cooktown don’t have a suction unit. I was on suction in Cairns, unable to move for nearly two weeks. I’ve had another two collapses since then, neither of which required any treatment but which have now caused me to apply for surgery.
  I’m quite scared. The recovery period after the general anaesthetic wears off is often nothing more than sheer agony. Stories abound of people stuck for weeks on morphine drips, and then the surgery being ultimately unsuccessful anyhow. I guess tomorrow night is going to be even scarier. I was going to write a “worst case scenario” letter and leave it under my bed, telling my parents after we’d left, just in case anything went seriously wrong, but I don’t think I can do it now.

Add your comments

You may leave a short comment, not longer than 800 characters.

Be Amused

Printed on 100% recycled electrons
|
W3C WAI AA   
|
W3C CSS 2.0   
|
W3C XHTML 1.1