Tales of a Toast Rack

Yesterday, I arrived at hospital in the half-light of the early morning, ready for more investigations into my digestive system. As I mentioned, I recently got diagnosed with gallstones, which I had hoped meant I no longer needed a gastroscopy. My consultant still wanted to go ahead, so I presents myself just after half past seven yesterday morning. My father-in-law took Jesica to school, and my mother-in-law drive me to hospital and looked after Alice for me. It is so strange being away from the girls, especially Alice.

I was expecting to go into a waiting room, but instead I was taken to my own private room. I am incredibly fortunate to be covered by Carl’s medical insurance which he gets through work, and it is a private hospital, but I was still surprised. I had a huge tv which I ignored in favour of my book (A Passionate Man by Joanna Trollope) and looking out of the window, watching the squirrels chase each other across the grass and up the trees.

If it wasn’t for the reason I was there, I could have really enjoyed the quiet time! I opted for sedation for the process and I am so glad I did. I remember gagging violently as they put the camera down my throat, but the next thing I knew I was waking up from a deep sleep.

After spending some time in the recovery room, I was taken back to my own room. I was asked if I would like something to eat and drink, and as I had been on nil by mouth since midnight, I said yes please. Although I was a bit sore and sleepy, the bed was very comfortable, the duvet was snuggly and warm, and then a lady arrived with a tray with a pot of tea and a toast rack with toast, butter, jam, and marmalade.

There was one of those special tray tables which fits across the bed, and I sat eating my toast and reading my book in the quiet feeling peaceful.

It struck me that the toast rack made the simple meal very civilised and pleasant indeed. I liked how they tucked the napkin in the last slot of the toast rack. I decided to order a toast rack for myself. I have a fair few fallings out with amazon these days, with missed deliveries and bitched orders, but I used my phone to order a toast rack there and then…and it arrived later that day!

And so this morning I made a pot of tea for us to share, filled the toast rack with fresh toast, and poached some eggs. We had our beeswax candle on the table, and the first daffodils of the year in a jug. A simple breakfast made so much nicer by the pot of tea and the rack for the toast.

I had my results too…it appears I have a hiatus hernia and oesophagitis as well as the gall stones. No wonder I haven’t been feeling great for a while. I am going to be focussing on doing what I can to make myself feel better. I have been given medication and been told to eat little and often. 

I do feel slightly frustrated that I had the first attack of what I now know was gallstone pain in hospital waiting to have Alice, but once they established it wasn’t the baby,mthe pain was cured with morphing but ignored. I told the GP at our six week health check that it had happened again and she told me it was indigestion (it wasn’t). Because it has been going on so long, my gall bladder has been badly damaged. I wish someone had listened a little sooner.

I have ordered some cook books about eating for good gut health from the library, I will share my cooking adventures with you.





One thought on “Tales of a Toast Rack

  1. I have a cousin-in-law who had the same diagnosis as you. Initially he was treated with meds and diet, and that helped, but they decided to repair the hernia and it cured him. Symptoms all gone.

    I’m so glad for you, that you got answers and know there are two things going on.

    It’s a sad fact we must advocate for ourselves if we want to get the correct diagnosis and treatment. I learned this the hard way.

    My doctor ignored the lump in my breast which I had found a month after having a normal mammogram. I was 42, he , blew me off, told me to come back in a year. My gut feeling was unsettled, but I trusted his judgement.

    A year later the lump was still there and again my doctor was going to blow me off. I pressed him and he said he would send me for a biopsy ‘so I would stop worrying’ , in a dismissive manner. It made me feel like I was an over reacting and I later learned when I got my medical file when we moved, that he had characterized me as an anxious person. THAT affected his ability to diagnose me imo.

    That lump was biopsied and turned out to be a malignant tumor. It was the size of an olive: 2cm at it’s widest point. I was mad at myself for ignoring my gut feelings. And mad at him for blowing me off. The correct protocol, I later learned, would have been to send me for an ultrasound which would have revealed the lump was a solid tumor and NOT a fluid filled cyst, as he had presumed.

    That was 27 years ago and by the grace of God I survived the cancer but only b/c it was not aggressive. From that point on I started advocating for myself. If I disagree with my doctor I let him know, i explain why and press him for more information. I ask a lot of questions. I’m sure they don’t like it b/c it takes too much of their time, but too bad. It is I that will suffer if they misdiagnose or fail to diagnose.

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