Tomorrow I’ll be spending an hour or so in hospital having a camera rudely shoved down my gullet and into my stomach. I’ve had it done once before, and the experience wasn’t entirely pleasant, mainly because even with an anaesthetic it makes you gag like nothing else. Last time I did it I let out an almighty involuntary belch which was so long and loud it actually made me want to laugh, despite the distinctly unpleasant sensation of a large foreign body in my oesophagus.
This time should be even less fun because my throat has taken a bit of a battering from the severe acid reflux I’ve suffered with for the last year or so. The last time I had this they found it had eroded some of the lining of my oesophagus. I imagine they’ll find it’s done much more damage by now.
To be entirely honest, I’m not sure what tomorrow will accomplish, apart from presumably making people finally realise the extent of the problem and for them to actually do something about it this time. I’m hoping they don’t find anything more serious than just a deterioration in the lining of my oesophagus, but you never know. Last time they gave me an idea of the results on the day, and I had to wait a week for my GP to contact me about the results of the tests they’d done on the sample tissue snipped from my stomach.
Either way, I suppose I have to see this as a positive opportunity: as the first step on the road to recovery from a condition that has done its darnedest to spoil the last couple of years of my life. The good stuff that’s happened has just about made up for the near-constant discomfort and occasional pain I find myself in – and this week’s events have done a pretty decent job of making me forget the bad stuff – it’s just a pity I’ve not been able to enjoy the successes a little more.
Assuming nothing goes badly wrong, I should be back just in time for the Manchester derby. It seems the gastroscopy won’t be the most stressful part of the day after all.