So early yesterday morning - around 1 am - I had a mad binge. For some inexplicable reason my appetite was insatiable. I had chickpea and plantain porridge and a bowl of cereal. I was still hungry and craved some soup which I had made days earlier and stored in the freezer. I fished it out, hacked away at it with the kitchen knife, popped the bits into the microwave and sat down to eat it. I went to bed on a full stomach.
When I woke up to do the dishes in the morning I noticed the tip of the knife I'd used was broken. My heart sank. I searched frantically around the kitchen, in the sink and the whole living area, I imagined it had ricocheted of the wall and landed in one corner somewhere. But then again I couldn't shake off the thought that I'd swallowed it along with my soup.
I told Dh and he tried to persuade me that I hadn't swallowed it. He said the knife was already broken before I used it. I told him, the reason I chose to use the knife for the dirty job was because it had a perfectly pointed tip, so there was absolutely no way it was already broken. At this point we both got down on our knees and started looking for the severed bit. When we couldn't find it panic set in. By 'panic set in' I mean I was literally shi*ing myself!
All hell broke loose when I started feeling some sharp pains in my tummy. I knew with 100% certainty that I had swallowed the broken tip of the knife. I was also certain I would bleed to death. I started regretting craving the bloody soup, I saw my whole life flash before me and I even had the image of the missing piece of metal ripping my womb to shreds and being told I can never have a baby.
We ended up at the A&E in Barts. Sure enough my X-ray confirmed it. When the radiologist asked if I had any 'sparkly bits on my knickers', I knew she wasn't being funny. After I was examined the conclusion was that I was really lucky my lungs were spared. The doctor said the human intestine is quite resilient and with lots of fibre I should pass it out within the next couple of days. Also it might be a little pain to pass, but better out than in.
To be honest I'll take a ripped rectum over a punctured lung any day (and I don't mean that in a the sense that ripped rectums are part of my daily repertoire, I'm just saying, giving the choice a torn bum hole is a hundred times better than slowly drowning in one's own fluids). They also said I should come right back if I started experiencing pain and swelling. I'm praying that won't happen, though I'm still having the occasional sharp pains I'm hoping it'll pass tomorrow.
I have to say the folks at Barts were absolutely fantastic, every single one of them had a smile for me! Which may explain why I was calm despite being told I had piece of triangular metal making it's evil way down my intestinal tract. You often hear horror stories about the NHS but I've been there twice now with absolutely nothing to complain about. Both times the service was excellent. Their degree of professionalism is to be commended. I'm looking forward to my appointment with the fertility expert next month (Finally got my appointment, Yey!!)