The title comes from a phrase that I used in a Covid Christmas post (Festive Planning Principles) something like a lifetime (and 3 lockdowns) ago.  I like it and it seems a shame to waste it, especially as it sums up how my life has been the last few days.  ‘Listless’ might also work, but is far less fun.  The cause of this particular bout of languorous mental inactivity was the impending ultrasound scan which is now in the past, and the results which – although requiring an extra pair of hands (called away from the nearby computer screen) to extrapolate (I did not enquire why) – were good.  ‘Very healthy’ said the lady with the scanner and the gel, and a weight lifted from my wizened shoulders, only to re-descend a few minutes later when I remembered that the two practitioners who huddled for an unseemly amount of time over the screen to the side of me, just millimetres out of my vision, repeatedly muttered the word ‘bifurcation’ during their deliberations into what, exactly, they were looking at.  What is a bifurcation and why did its presence necessitate a lengthy second opinion?  What if the scan result – ref the whatever-it-was they were looking for – was very healthy, but the bifurcation was bad news?  What if they were not allowed to tell me what they had found because it was not what they had been tasked to look for?  What if I was unlikely to make it home anyway, so no point in upsetting me with bad news?

Of course, I know what a bifurcation is now – I looked it up the very second I left the surgery.  The question that remains is whether that which is – inconveniently it would seem for the purposes of an AAA* scan – bifurcating within my torso, is doing so as per general guidelines or has gone rogue?  Do I have a subdivision where no subdivision should rightly be?  Has someone upgraded my main aortal access to a dual carriageway whilst I slept and, if so, why?  I know how bad a road has to get before the local council upgrades it (with one man, a spade and a bucketful of tar): I would dread to think that my arterial network could be in anything like the state of the roads around here.

They both seemed to be perfectly content to send me on my way without feeling the need to press the number of a local paramedic into my sweaty palm.  I did ask if there was a problem, but they both just said ‘No, you’re fine lovey’ – all well and good, although not exactly addressing my concerns, and I know what you are thinking – and you are indisputably right – I am merely squeezing every ounce of optimism out of good news and finding myself with something else to worry about.  Did they see something in there that had only previously been known to live within John Hurt?  They said that they would be writing to my GP – I presume on a professional, rather than personal basis – so I am certain that they would pass on any concerns they may have had at that stage: ‘patient has a bifurcation that may well not be ideal, particularly when attempting to see beyond it on a scan’.  Anyway, you know what it’s like when a medical professional gives you good news, you get out of there before they have the chance to change their mind.

Besides these are professional and caring people, they would have told me anything I needed to know there and then, and what they told me was that my measurements were ‘A very healthy 1.5cm.  This is a one-off scan and you won’t need any more.’  There is no bad news at all in that, is there?  All is well on the Abdominal Aortic Aneurysm front.  I’m sure that if I have bifurcation issues I will get to hear about them in due course.  Perhaps they’ll invite me for a scan…

*Abdominal Aortic Aneurysm