Day 117: Endoscopy

March 10th 2016

arthroscopy

It was expected by both myself and the doctor that before we could take any decisive action with my knee an endoscopy would be necessary and following an appointment that was made a few days ago, that’s what happened today.

More specifically, as those of you whom are medically inclined will be able to tell, I actually went in for an Arthroscopy since the area that demanded an endoscopy was a joint, as far as I was able to tell the procedure was practically the same though was conducted with a few other pieces of kit and, much like my doctor had predicted, I have a torn muniscus. (those two ring shaped pink parts atop of the tibia.

blood
human blood cell

When I arrived at the hospital I was seen immediately and given a quick rundown of theprocedure and what they expected to see, mostly I just nodded and smiled; I’m an engineer not a biologist, I work with metal and computers not blood and bone. I understood very little of what they were saying is what I’m really trying to convey here.

The parts that I did understand were completely to do with the invasive part of the procedur, I wasn’t nervous, but if I can ‘not’ have a camera inside of my knee joint I will avoid it. The parts I understood were as such.

  • Wash with Iodine
  • Create an incision
  • Insert a DAMN CAMERA into the joint
  • Assess and wash out with saline.

I’m not squeamish, there’s very little that turns my stomach and the sight of blood or a needle certainly isn’t one of them… that being said, I’ve never felt so compelled to vomit before in my life There was something deeply nauseating about the feeling of a tube worming around inside of my knee.

I lasted about ten minutes before the nausea got the better of me and I was revisitted by my morning toast, considering that it was unbuttered it tasted the same going down as it did coming up- fortunatly the doctors had a bedpan on hand (works for vomit too apparently).

The weird thing about all of this was that after I’d been sick the nausea completely vanished and the rest of the inspection continued without any queer sensations at all. Eventually the inspection was over and the incision was closed up with two staples, not that I could really feel it.

The muniscus is torn and I am now awaiting a call from the doctors pertaining to the next step to take, in the mean time however, my knee is extremely sore and I’m numbing the pain with lashings of whiskey…

What else is a man to do?

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