“There is nothing like looking, if you want to find something (or so Thorin said to the young dwarves). You certainly usually find something, if you look, but it is not always quite the something you were after.” That’s a quote from JRR Tolkien’s The Hobbit, and it’s been running in my mind these last few days. I’ll explain why in a minute.
Waves on the Wall
I had my microlaryngoscopy—and what a wonderful word that is; if only the procedure was too—down in Inverness last Wednesday. They phoned the day before to say it was being put back four hours, which at least meant I was able to eat an early breakfast at the B&B (not that I had much of an appetite). Then it was a matter of killing time till 11.00am, when I made my way to the ward. I was led to a chair beside an empty bed, where I sat and waited till just after 2.00pm, having my blood pressure taken periodically, listening to my tummy rumbling, and knitting. Turns out bringing something to knit was a godsend, for not only did it help to pass the time, which hung pretty heavy after a while, it also served as an icebreaker for the succession of medical personnel who dropped by to talk to me: an anaesthetist, a surgeon and several nurses (the top two questions, in case you ever find yourself in similar circumstances and wish to be prepared, were, “What are you knitting?” and “How long does it take?”). And all the staff at every stage were great: friendly, informative, sympathetic, attentive and helpful.
Riverside Hawthorn
At last I was taken down to the theatre, a high-tech room that resembled the bridge of the Starship Enterprise with the addition of comfy beds. The procedure was to remove a sample from the lesion on my vocal cords and make a detailed examination of my throat (though not to actually remove the growth yet; that was my mistake). The general anaesthetic was administered by means of a cannula in the back of my hand, and the last thing I was aware of before I drifted off was a cold sensation creeping up my arm. An hour or so later I woke up in the recovery room (using the words woke and up here in their loosest sense), and after a while was wheeled back to the ward. I was still “nil by mouth” for a couple of hours, but since after a general anaesthetic the most my body is up for is more or less keeping my heart beating, that was fine by me. They kept me in till just after 7.00pm, when Margaret came and scooped up the remains and drove them home, which we reached about 10.00pm.
Tidepools near the Trinkie
And now it’s a few days later, and I no longer feel quite as though I’ve just stepped off a boat after a rough crossing—that’s my fourth general anaesthetic, and they always churn me up like a whisk. And so, other than waiting for the results of the biopsy, what happens now? Well, that brings me back to my Hobbit quote. For while they were looking, unfortunately they did indeed find something, or something that looks like it might be something; but until they do some more tests they won’t know what it is, or whether it’s anything to worry about. So it’s back to Inverness this week for a scan of my throat. I probably won’t know the results for a while, and at the moment anything is possible; and so it seems I might be going into the New Year, in Yeats’ eloquent phrase, “dreading and hoping all…”
Urk. Good luck ?
Thanks Deb. So far so good (sort of).
Fingers crossed for you xx
Thanks Sally!
Well when you told me you had a laryngoscopy, I had assumed it would be from the top down rather than “down in Inverness “. Seems a bit extreme.
Here, we are both down with a nasty cough – 20 a day at least. However, the PCR test says it’s not serious.
The gansey is, as always, looking great. I particularly like the shot of the hawthorn. I have a view out of the kitchen window to the trees on the hill. In winter condition, they look stunning with the blue sky behind and the sun on the branches. You may have inspired me to take some photos.
Hi Dave, good luck with the cough (I like to say at work, when I cough and everyone looks accusingly at me, that I was coughing before it was cool…)
Hope it’s all a waste of your time in the end and just put down to being a prolonged knitting opportunity. Lovely gansey too.
Good luck!
Hi Robyne, I suppose it’s never a waste of time to be checked out and cleared but I know what you mean. Meanwhile, there’s always knitting!
At least the bed was comfy?
“Prolonged knitting opportunity” is a great takeaway. Let’s hope that’s all it is. And you’re down to the wrist! What will you knit next time?
That tidepool looks like Godzilla’s footprint, or maybe a gigantic duck?
Even when I squint, I can’t see a duck.
The footprint of a duck.
Hi Tamar, the bed was fine, only the nurses kept insisting on making me more upright (presumably to encourage me not to get too comfy!)
I’ve got a mini-surprise next week, then it’s back to Caithness for the next couple.
Glad that is over with for now. And I want to say that is one doggone gorgeous gansey!
Hi Anne, that’s what I thought, and then…! But I’ve said too much already – tune in on Monday for the next exciting instalment..
You managed to knit your words of the biopsy sound palatable, so to speak. Of course, I, along with thousands of your followers wish you well on this journey towards better health.
Melissa, Fairbanks, Alaska where it is 35 degrees F below zero today. minus 37.222 C
Hi Melissa, thank you, it’s appreciated. Alaska is one place I’d love to visit one day… maybe when it warms up a bit!
Bravo for hospital knitting! I recently spent the better part of a day in a hospital waiting room as I was the driver for a friend having outpatient surgery. I think every member of the surgical staff checked in with me at least once to see what I was knitting, which was some fairly complex colorwork.
So happy to hear that you survived your procedure!
Hi Wendy, thank you. I got a fair bit done on that visit, but I don’t think I’d be up for anything complicated before an operation (and I definitely wouldn’t afterwards!).
The gansey is gorgeous! Both the pattern and the colour.
So what do you have planned for the next project? A sizable bucket list would be great incentive for the knitting gods to keep your fingers tuned up for a long time to come. Hope the throat gets tuned up as well! Good luck!
Cheers Lois. I’ve got a stash of gansey yarn to last me maybe five years, and my first thought when they told me about the growth was, but I’ve got all these ganseys still to knit!
I treated myself to some more of Graeme Bethune of Caithness Yarns’s lovely (if expensive) gansey yarn. So after I’ve got one or two things out the way, I’m going to use that for another spectacular Caithness gansey from a pattern in the Wick Society’s Johnston Collection of old photos of fishermen, if I’m spared…