I thought I would pop into intensive care again, having missed – being given a thorough drubbing around the nether regions, – placed on a slope to try to get my blood pressure up from dangerously low to tolerably low, – monitored every 5 minutes by an exploding pressure cuff that would startle me awake every delirious sleeping-waking moment for what seemed an eternity and all the other technical treats ICU is waiting to throw at you to keep you alive. I was in ICU for 3 days and on 2 different day wards for one and a half days. In the Urology Ward, I was treated to a confused posh lady who screamed “Help me PLEASE” at the top of her voice for the whole of one tortuous night. She seemed to have concerns about her pants. At 3:00 am I was quite ready to stuff them down her throat.

It all started with three failed attempts by the district nurse to insert a new catheter. She tried inflating it which was agony then bloody. I was bleeding from the prostate quite badly so taken straight onto the surgical assessment ward from there the troubled faces told me there was more to come. One more attempt to get the catheter in by the traditional route got nowhere so a consultant was called and the procedure, via camera up the willy, went well and frankly compared to the ram jamming, pipe cleaning, musket loading technique dished out by the District Nurse was (scuse pun) a piece of piss. However once some time had passed and I was clearly not being patched up and prepped to go home and the the critical care nurses had installed themselves round the bed prodding and probing and getting nowhere in raising my blood pressure I knew the inevitable was upon me and sure enough at 3:00am (everything in hospital happens at 3:00 am) I was taken with the hopefully restorative drug (an artificial means of forcing blood pressure up) being pumped in already (to buy some time) they said ominously.

David pronounced da veed was wonderful. He sat near my bed all night administering reminders to keep both arms straight (an uncomfortable thing to do when you want to sleep). At one point they took 9 different samples of blood in one go. I had fluid and anti bios going in intravenously. My heart monitored via a profusion of wires going out. I had a pump administering the super drug via a special syringe I hadn’t seen before, also going in and David (from Gran Canaria btw) trying to get me to drink more water like an enthusiastic Spanish waiter doling out Sangria, another shortcut to improving blood pressure (copious amounts of water not Sangria). Suddenly it seemed to work and it shot up to most peoples normal levels, such that David spent the rest of the night juggling the highs and lows of my unruly blood pressure from a disastrous starting point of 55 with a pulse of 150 to something like a low normal of 100 odd with a pulse of 130.

I am home now. Punctured, battle weary and a bit breathless (a symptom of something I know not what). No more blood from the prostate -phew. My apetite has deserted me so I am back to retching on Complan. I have more pills to take than before which is a blow but they stop in a week. I didn’t lose all my strength like last time so that’s good but I am inclined to stay in bed all day. The semi hallucinations, which were quite unpleasant this time are fading and as you may observe I am compos mentis enough to go on my iPad – so I suppose I have dodged another bullet particularly as they confirmed it was Sepsis again, brought on by an infection brought on by the catheter issues – nipped in the bid I assume.