We Suck!

…at hospitals anyway, according to some organization:

Researchers at the Institute of Global Health Innovation at Imperial College London examined data on 38 developed countries.

The experts focused on four key patient safety indicators for their rankings: maternal mortality, treatable mortality, adverse effects of medical treatment and neonatal disorders.

For those who are too lazy to follow the link, here’s the table:

Yeah, I know:  our hospitals are ranked lower because we take on more hopeless cases than most other countries will accept.  (Whenever you read about some Third-World mope who needs to have the extra toes growing out of his neck removed, it’s always off to the U.S. and not to Sweden, because they just won’t take the case.)

I also note with some skepticism the high rank of the Netherlands, which is the absolute last place where I’d go to hospital because of the Dutchies’ fondness for involuntary euthanasia.

Finally, not being of a medical bent myself, I have no idea whether the criteria of “maternal mortality, treatable mortality, adverse effects of medical treatment and neonatal disorders” are the best pointers towards judgement of hospital quality;  I’ll leave that to my Sawbones Readers to comment on.

Well, That Wasn’t Any Fun

Last night I suddenly developed the most excruciating pain in my lower abdomen.  Came out of nowhere:  one minute I’m searching for pics of Carol Vorderman’s extensive superstructure, the next I’m doubled up on the couch and moaning like a Democrat forced to sing the National Anthem.

So did I go to the ER?  Silly rabbits, I’m a MAN — of course I didn’t wimp out and seek medical attention.

Now before anyone starts yelling at me — especially those Readers of the Female Persuasion — lemme ask y’all this:

What if it had just been gas, somehow bottled up and unable to be released?  You’d feel like a proper Charlie if the ER doc were to look at your CAT scan, shake his head sorrowfully and say, “Take two Gas-X and call me in the morning”, with the unspoken corollary:  “What a total pussy.”  That was not going to happen.  So I waited overnight.

However, by this morning the symptoms had not abated — got worse, actually —  so I girded up my loins and went off to the local Doc-In-The-Box to get a CAT scan.  But the nearest one had closed down for good.  So I went to another one close to the apartment, and they were open but — their CAT scan machine was broken.

By this time, the combination of frustration plus pain in my gut — I was driving bent over like a Florida geezer — made me say “Fukkit!” and so I ended up at GlobalMegaHealthCorp LLC, at the other end of Plano, FFS.  I went in promptly at 9.15am, was seen promptly at 11.15am, had the CAT scan promptly at 2.30pm, and was on my way to CVS promptly at 4.05pm.

Which is why I always try to go the the little ER clinics for visits of this nature:  in, scanned, diagnosed, prescribed and out in generally less than 90 minutes.  If they’re a little busy.

Anyway, I suppose you want to know why I’m still doubled over in pain, waiting for the Blessed Medications to kick in?

Diverticulitis (non-complicated), treated with Cipro and some other antibiotic.  According to Doc Russia (who diagnosed me correctly over the phone while I was waiting in the ER room), I should feel better by tomorrow.

Let’s hope.  In the meantime, I’m debating whether to pop a Tylenol-3 (the one with codeine) to help me get through the night.

Of course, I’m also counting my blessings.  This pain could have pointed to something really foul like a hiatal hernia, appendicitis (even though I’m too old for that shit) or the Evil Cousin of diverticulitis, a perforated bowel (which can seriously fuck up your weekend picnic plans).  Not to mention all the other shit down there that can creep up on Olde Pharttes and kill us like a smackeroo-blurdy.  That part of the body is like a WWII German minefield, with stuff just waiting to kill you.  But it wasn’t any of that.

Oh, and one small piece of other news:  my weight has gone down from 265 to 240, in just under two months.  My goal:  Army weight (205-210), or maybe even less if I can stick with it.  Here’s me, in approved SADF browns, circa 1977:

So there’s that, which is good.

Missing Villain

Here’s a panic-button issue:

What’s behind the worrying rise of cancer in young people? After cases in people aged 25-49 rises 22%, experts are blaming processed foods, smoking, drinking and even pollution

They missed “climate change” in that list, but no doubt it will be added later.

Cases of thyroid cancer are also soaring among 15 to 39-year-olds, according to figures from the Institute for Health Metrics and Evaluation at the University of Washington School of Medicine in the U.S. Between 1990 and 2019 there was an 81 per cent increase in cases in this age group in G20 nations, compared to a 24 per cent increase in all cancers.

Despite my flippant tone, this does seem to be a problem, although it’s affecting mostly young people right now — Daughter’s fiance has just had part of his thyroid removed, not for cancer but for something else.

That climate change thing still needs watching…

Ending Stupidity

and about time, too:

It appears the Biden Administration has ceded to increasing calls for an onerous COVID vaccine mandate to end for international air travelers, along with federal workers and contractors.

Stuff doesn’t seem to have worked, caused possibly thousands of unnecessary deaths all by itself, and was the basis for so much governmental overreach and, in some cases, outright thuggery.

Good riddance, and don’t bother doing it again, no matter how scary the poxes and plagues look.  We’re not going to be panicked, or bullied, next time.

September Redux

Basically, I have the same flu as I had back in September.  That should be of no interest to anyone here, except that blogging will be light and not very substantial until (I hope) after the weekend.

I’ll just be posting pics like this:

…and lastly this, from Alex Dawson:

Sorry, but there it is.

Mystery Solved

…I think.

Having been pronounced in excellent health one day, to feeling like total shit the next, I was pondering:


Then I remembered that as I do every year at my physical, I’d got a flu shot on my visit.  Aha!

So my body, which is increasingly starting to hate me as I get older, obviously decided to teach me a lesson.  “Don’t trust me to take care of myself?”  it must have said, “I’ll teach you to have some Russian nurse* inject some strange lurgies without my permission!”

I have to admit, though, that given all the abuse and punishment I’ve subjected my body to over the years, it probably has a point.

If you want me, I’ll be lying huddled in my bed, whimpering.

*yes, she was Russian, with that wonderfully liquid Russian accent which makes you just want to drink vodka and flirt with her until you pass out.  I know the breed, unfortunately.

She might have looked like that, except she was wearing a paper face condom so all I could see were her eyes.  Which were magical.