Back home. Place where they chopped around hurts – but I guess it must. A stretchy corset thing around the waist helps, plus Panadol.
So the grand finale of my first-ever hospitalization took place at the Accounts Dept. In pain, clutching bags of pills and huge envelopes of photos of my innards. Just mail me the bill? No – the Christian charity will not let you leave until you settle in full. I had arrived with one credit card. In two swipes, that was maxed out. Still less than halfway there. Over the phone, I maxed out someone else’s credit card. Finally scraped the rest together via EPS. At one point they offered to escort me to an ATM.
It was the most I’ve ever paid for anything in (more or less) one go. A little more than the 20% deposit I paid for an apartment in 1992. The itemized bill sort of looks padded out, but then a hospital is obviously very expensive to equip and run, and it needs hundreds of highly trained people. Even if the surgeon drove a Honda and used a public golf course, it still wouldn’t be cheap. Not an expert on this.
I apologize to the thousands of people who have told me over the years, while my mind drifted, that they have ‘been in hospital’ and ‘had an operation’. I never realized it was such utter misery.
Never again, if I can help it. But do read the less-jaundiced view of colonoscopy here.