The Doppler Effect

Despite my best efforts, my meals today were somewhat interrupted.

Following instructions I walked with crutches to the loo after breakfast. The expression ‘taken short’ developed new layers of meaning as I closed the door and deposited a goodly amount of blood, urine, and excreta in a trail on the way to the lavatory seat. There was nothing for it but to summon help to clean myself and the room. I had made a start on my lunch which had been removed when I retuned to the ward. I had no more interest in it anyway.

The results of the blood tests taken yesterday, show no real cause for concern, but a Doppler ultrasound scan has been ordered today to ensure that I don’t have a deep vein thrombosis. Just as dinner was being served, I was summoned fo the scan.


I have always heard about the Doppler effect, but Β not the scan. Although the attached YouTube video might suggest otherwise, I can now definitely state that the Doppler effect is to keep a man from his food. The scan appeared to show no problems.

Mr Doppler, however, was thwarted this evening, for Jade produced the first meal I have been able to relish in this establishment: a fresh, moist, egg and cress salad served with a suitably tangy vinaigrette, followed by flavoursome vanilla ice cream and accompanied by zesty orange juice. This Jade was not the young lady who had helped with the scan. Β I know this because the caterer sported no visible tattoos.

P.S. It just goes to show that I am not really up to scratch yet. Until I read the contented crafter’s comment below I had forgotten that the physios had wheeled me along to the stairs, decanted me onto crutches, and guided me up and down a flight of six steps.


  1. Damn Doppler. I don’t know whether to laugh or to cry at this post. Your food description was a heartening end to a terribly (literally) awful (pun!) beginning.

  2. Now this post is one I may well have understood you skipping the posting on! Oh the indignity of not being able to complete the mad dash to the loo!! Here’s a story to cheer you up: Once on being hospitalised with suspected DVT the radiographer was doing the ultrasound search for the offending blood clot and couldn’t find it. He kept pushing his instrument of torture into my calf and back of knee from varying directions, all of which were producing shots of pain through my being. If you can’t find it I suggested through gritted teeth, perhaps its not there. ‘I know its there’ he said, ‘I just want to find it’. When I passed out from the pain I was quickly returned to my room and the next day, after the machine was ‘fixed’ someone else had another go. There were six clots in various positions found with barely a whimper. πŸ™‚

  3. I’m sorry your time these days is not as fun as it might be, although good for you for simply dealing with body functions in a practical way, but I’m glad you got some good food.

  4. If it makes you feel any better (a trouble shared is a trouble halved etc…) I was in hospital about 15 years ago, lying in bed as a spinal anaesthetic wore off, when I found myself breaking wind and, because of the anaesthetic, unable to halt the flow or moderate the noise. This was bad enough, but after a while I realised it wasn’t all wind…

    Hopefully things will become easier to control as time goes on.

    Looking on the bright side, it’s nice to know the constipation has been corrected. πŸ™‚

    1. Thanks for that, Quercus. Excrutiating. Reminds me of the old schoolboy joke: Boy puts his hand up in class. “Yes, Simon?”. “Please Miss, is a fart wet?”. “No.” “Then I’ve just shat myself”

  5. Ah well, at least you haven’t had to go 8 days without food or liquid passing through the mouth followed by very little, so keep your pecker up, that’s an English pecker by the way not a Yankee one πŸ˜€

  6. As the bard said, all’s well that ends well! That was scary, but I am waiting for you to roam the streets of London in real time soon!

  7. You have my sympathy, Derrick – but at least you seem to have retained your sense of humour. Just hang on in there, do as you’re told, and you’ll be skipping about again in no time. Sorry I haven’t dropped in to see how you are as often as I’d like…

  8. This being human is a humbling experience. At least we are all in it together and can understand the suffering of another. I send very many wishes for better days and a swift return to health AND home! Take good care, Derrick.

    1. Very many thanks, Cheryl. I hope my little chronicles of hospital life will help others get through it. Life cannot always be full of the joys of Spring.

      1. That is so true but I am sorry to hear of your trials, though glad that you want to share them with us. Your story is only a shade better than the one about the lady who did manage to hold it together till she got to sit on the toilet but realising too late that the lid was closed…

  9. Oh gosh, but at least that long-awaited event has happened, even if in not quite the manner you would have preferred. And the sandwich sounded very tasty. It will get better, Derrick πŸ™‚

  10. That is quite the post, Derrick. I’ve had many conversations where we all share our worst potty experiences. So, in the future, if you ever have such a conversation, you’ll have a wonderful contribution to make. : )

Leave a Reply