My absence, in case anyone thinks I have kicked the bucket, is due to computer problems. I shall return when it is repaired!

Wednesday 27^th March, 2019 0900

Life can be a funny old thing, can't it?

I am facing an operation which may involve cancer and yet I am relatively unconcerned. Instead, I was more worried about my future job prospects. When you think that many would be shitting themselves over the medical stuff, my thoughts were and are with my coming years. There is no thought I may actually go before I decide the time. Anyway, if it turns out to be cancer I intend to kill it with alcohol. Why change the habit of a lifetime?

Rabbit I must say was even last night still searching valiantly for jobs for me, even though she reads my blog and knew I had a good chance of having found one myself. I cannot thank her enough and but think perhaps there is a young lady on whose life I as a teacher had some impact. It is humbling indeed to find that where one was convinced no difference was being made that, on the contrary, major impressions were being made. At least on those students that paid attention. And she was one of the quiet ones!

As for the hospital bills, I received a call from Brenda to inform me she had been to accounts and they will not pay out on hospital receipts, I need formal invoices from both hospitals. Great you may say, but this is China. Alice will try to get one from the big hospital next Tuesday while I am out for the count and then we will need to revisit the small one to see if we have success there.

As for the contract with my prospective new school, I have many questions. More money granted but no medical cover other than accidental. I am happy to pay for my own cover if the school can arrange it. Various other queries but none of them necessarily deal-breakers. Remember, I merely want another three years of employment and I cannot be too choosy.

Today on a whim I made Chelsea buns, about twenty of them. A simple text to Annie and Alice saw them scurry after classes to come for their spoils! I think I have three left for myself to take to work later. When I said to Alice to let me know if her best friend (Miranda) liked them (she took her the remains of last night's garlic bread) her comment was “If I let her have one!”

Oh, and Joanna is worried about me. I never even contacted her about my gut problem but about another matter yet of course it came up. She has now said she will fly up from Shanghai next weekend to visit me because she is worried! I have said no need but to be honest I can't think of anything else I would rather have than her visiting me for Qing Ming festival. I am but worried that payday is after the weekend, I have spent thousands on hospital bills and until mid-April I am dead as far as my naval pension goes -three months all at once coming a fortnight later.

I want to treat her to nice meals, the way of China is when someone visits your city you pay (and she has paid for my hotel in Shanghai before) so I do not want to renege. If she does come she will be staying at the local Hampton by Hilton on my recommendation (take note Steve Magor!) and if it happens I have no compunction in saying I feel like a kid on Christmas morning. Now that's a student I definitely made an impression with - and to this day remains my best ever. I doubt she will be toppled.

Tuesday 26^th March, 2019 1015

I hosted dinner last night for Alice and Annie. Pre-made spring rolls (Annie actually asked if I had made them myself – I'm not that good!), followed by Mediterranean mince and aubergines, or at least my take on it. Dessert was strawberry fool. The mince wasn't quite as expected, I only had tomato pesto and not sun-dried. It was still well received nonetheless.

It was during dinner (and the main reason for mentioning it at all) that the difficulties of finding another job at over sixty years old was discussed. Annie had a brain fart as she suddenly remembered the school next to our main campus has a married couple teaching there who are both 67. Would I like her to ask if they are recruiting? Silly question.

Before bed last night I had an email outlining rough job specification details, in particular an upper age limit of seventy! More than enough for my purposes. This morning I have been telephoned already and a copy of the contract will be emailed to me later for perusal. They are interested in hiring me.

Ok, so it's still in freezing Lanzhou but it's a job. It's also Gansu Agricultural College, which sounds like a step down but isn't – Chinese colleges have a tendency to call themselves universities anyway. I think (but have never truly found out) that to be a “proper” university they need to be authorised to bestow Masters degrees and Doctorates. I haven't worked at anywhere such and I doubt that outside of the Tier 1 cities there are many that fit that description. They go as far as Bachelors.

The pay is more too and moving home will be considerably easier. With luck, unlike last time, nothing will be broken in transit. I will try to hire a man with a van for the task.

Fingers crossed my problem is soon to disappear.

Saturday 23^rd March, 2019 1500

I went to hospital this morning fully expecting to be conked out and then awaken to find they had snipped the growths off, end of story.

But this is my story and it could never be that uncomplicated.

More blood tests and then up to gastroenterology. In theatre there was a chap still being done while they prepared me on another trolley beside him. I would love to know how they put you to sleep because instead of the usual “count backwards from ten” I simply lay there, a needle went into the back of my hand and while I was waiting for a sensation of losing consciousness, nothing happened.

Twenty minutes later I was in a recovery bay! Didn't recall going out at all!Sadly no cutting had taken place because this time instead of encountering the three black dots I had seen before, they met Big Brother.

There is a sizeable growth down there and as I take daily aspirin they didn't dare attempt removal because I would have bled too much. And despite a battery of tests today they still can't decide if it is cancerous or not, albeit the general consensus is that it probably is. The truth will only be revealed when it is removed and sent to the laboratory for inspection. They have though taken cheer from the fact that I sought help early on, hence it is not well-established yet. Nor will it be with luck, for a week from Tuesday it's for the chop.

I am assured I shall be able to teach my classes the day after so I won't be taking time off. It's just that every time I turn my head more money is required! And now I have a load of extra medicines to take, some to inhibit cell growth and others for indigestion which I don't have.

Alice and I both ate a hearty lunch once we escaped and it feels good to have a decent appetite once again.

Thursday 21^st March, 2019 1800

Sitting around for three hours in hospital waiting rooms this afternoon reminded me of the NHS, although forking out money hand over fist did not.

By the time we got to actually see a gastro specialist the blood place was finished for the day so still no definitive answer as to the cancer question, merely the doctor's opinion that he thought it was. I'm with him on that one.

I am now booked in for Saturday morning for bloods and then a further exploratory Mersey Tunnel down my throat for a gander, this time I will be “sleeping like a baby” to quote the quack. It was rather more sudden than I expected and normally I would take that as an indication of the seriousness of my plight, however it is purely because I am free and more importantly so is Alice, who bless her, insists on accompanying me. Also, the doctor told Alice they make army personnel (quite rightly seeing as it's a PLA place) and foreigners priorities. Cancerous or not, those lumps do not belong and I strongly suspect whilst they are at it the scissors will be put to use. In the meantime I have new medicines to take and they were at great pains to inform me one is manufactured in Switzerland, the other in Japan. It seems many westerners abhor Chinese remedies. I do not, provided they are not TCM, for my view is that not only does it not work but it tastes like drinking from a sewer.

With luck by Saturday afternoon the ordeal will be over and I can then concentrate on ensuring the school do not try to wriggle out of coughing up for the treatment – although I do like a good fight when I know I'm in the right.

Tuesday 19^th March, 2019 2115

My experience of life has often been that when it kicks you in the teeth, very often shortly thereafter it kicks you in the nuts for good measure.

With a health scare on-going, today I was officially informed there will be no contract for me next year.

Such things happen in the Chinese foreign teacher world and I shouldn't be rancorous but I am. Basically because I had to actually ask (otherwise I doubt I would have been told until job-hunting became a panic exercise) and the spineless weasel who doesn't think students should know Hong Kong was once British didn't have the cojones to tell me himself, instead having Brenda do it. Needless to say, my hospital receipts will be submitted shortly, damned if I will even countenance paying them myself now.

The problem I face of course is age. I will be sixty-three at renewal time, a veritable fossil in Chinese years. If I am successful in securing a post it will almost inevitably be somewhere no other bugger wants to go. Mind you that's not so bad, after all I spent six years in Chizhou and even three years after they dispensed with me they have still only attracted one English teacher when they need two and he is clearly not a native speaker judging by his name.

The sticks are fine, I can adapt to anywhere (a trait essential when following this particular way of life) and indeed if I wanted to work at an “international school” or language mill as we term them, I could find umpteen jobs. But I don't want to work double the hours for double the money and a sixth of the holidays, that's a young man's game. The hunting has started now. Won't half screw my summer holiday plans though.

As for the hospital visit on Thursday it transpires we will be going to the city's finest but in all likelihood merely to make an appointment to go again. It's not possible to call them and make one so I assume it will be a waste of a couple of hours yet again.

I gather the doctor/specialist I need to see works Monday mornings and that gives me a problem. I cannot in all conscience keep asking Alice to absent herself from lessons so we need to find out if they have anyone who speaks English or there is wifi so I can take the laptop and be enabled to translate.

I really could do without my being a Wednesday's Child all coming home to roost at the same time though!

Monday 18^th March, 2019 1330

I would love to be able to echo The Bangles and state that it's just another manic Monday but I can't.

Alice and I duly went to the hospital at 1000, where we discovered that despite there being no such thing as a weekend in China, people still seemed to miraculously develop illness on Monday mornings.

First there was the obligatory explaining to yet a new doctor, who notwithstanding our simple statement that I had come for a gastroscopy, insisted on having a good look at the scans and reports. He asked about previous operations and I showed my shoulder (only operation I have ever had) and he looked perplexed. He asked Alice about my pelvis and I explained it had healed by itself. He seemed stunned no medical intervention had taken place (regular readers know that they completely missed it when it happened and when they did find out any damage would have already been done) and said I should have it looked at in case it causes problems in the future. I gave a wry smile, it's been causing me grief ever since it happened.

Then it was time to see another doctor who signed a form and sent us to pay for the exploratory work. After half an hour of queueing just to hand over more money, it was off to the Gut Studio. Everyone is given a hideous concoction to drink and half an hour later we went in. I got Alice to enquire about some anaesthetic throat spray for the retching and was told they didn't have that. Great.

After getting me in the foetal position and issuing instructions not to hold my breath at any time, The Beast was trundled into place. Looking at the size of the garden hose I wondered where the thin tube the size of a thermometer had been promised was. Surely they didn't harbour designs of sticking that down my gullet – without exaggeration it was the diameter of my little finger.

Oh yes they were! I can only assume that being an army hospital they assume their soldiers have no gagging reflex.

I cannot decide whether the events that followed were worse than waking up in 1982 to find doctors wrenching at my broken bones to reset them or not but it is a close run thing. The five minutes it lasted was most unpleasant and just as I knew I would, I retched uncontrollably for the duration.

There are indeed growths in there and of course I am not one to back away from wanting to know, so I asked straight up if it was cancer. They didn't know. Instead I need to go to a superior hospital (where the equipment is reportedly less than a century old) for yet another similar procedure where they can ascertain more. I think I will demand sedation for that.

The operation (I think it's a case of will rather than may be required), from what I can gather, could consist of keyhole endoscopy excision of the lumps.

And why is it that whenever anything goes wrong the quacks always have to bring up smoking and drinking?

Was I shocked at the findings? Oddly no, for when the constipation dragged on I became more and more convinced it was the dreaded C word. It was not unexpected.

Secretly I reckon Alice thought I was being a bit of a baby (I know damned well I am not and was not, I new full well I would heave) because the previous patient to undergo it, a young man, emerged smiling. As for me, once they withdrew half a fire hose from my gut, I couldn't help but emit ear-splitting eructations.

She was all for going to the other hospital straight away but I refused. I had just had a thoroughly unwanted and quite frankly bloody awful assault on my innards, received a diagnosis which was most unwelcome and simply wanted to get the hell away. After all, didn't she want lunch? That swung it for her!

Apparently I wasn't supposed to eat or drink for two hours following the GBH session, so I ate sparsely and only had one beer. She on the other hand, tucked in with gusto and still had enough left for a doggy bag for her dinner tonight.

She is now going away to endeavour to contact the other hospital for an appointment on Thursday afternoon.

I now may need to alert Foreign Affairs to the probability that they might want to increase the pittance of a medical insurance policy they took out for me. I have already nigh on used the amount I was told they were covered for and indeed I was prepared to bear the cost personally to avoid getting them involved. If I do, it will be virtually certain to ensure there will be no contract for me here next year. I will find out what further expense may be involved before deciding my course of action. Regardless, if I do claim on their policy, unlike Chizhou where I was a China newbie, I will not be paying any excess, they will pay the lot or face official retribution.

Stay tuned for further developments.

Sunday 17^th March, 2019 1630

I had rather hoped, after Friday's delightful revelations, to enjoy a touch of good luck last night. Instead I watched ITV with ever-increasing disbelief as what at half time was a guaranteed thousand yuan profit evaporated inexorably, England surrendering a 31 point lead so that not only did I not profit but every minute of the second half saw 25 yuan of my own money evaporating down the plughole that the players richly deserve to follow!

Am I looking forward to tomorrow? Of course not. More, it must be said, because I may not be overjoyed at the answers. I suppose were I religious, tonight I would kneel by my bed and entreat Him Upstairs to be kind but if he can do that to a Twickenham crowd of tens of thousands then I reckon he would just take the pee out of me!

It is only natural in this age to have searched online for possible clues as to the future and of course I have. However, rather than locate every dire pronouncement I have restricted myself to looking into the procedure itself. The medical fraternity have at times done some particularly unpleasant things to my person and that's to be expected. They can do their worst.

What is on my mind though are two things: firstly I'm only supposed to have a modicum of water with which to take my daily medicines and secondly my gagging reflex. Seeing as I do not expect to be donating any blood I may just substitute the water for a small shot of jing jo (well, they do call it medicine wine!) and it seems there are options for the second worry. Put to sleep? Rather extreme and will be declined. Sedative? Preferably not, as a reward for Alice taking the morning off lessons I will owe her lunch at the very least and want to take her for one. The third, which I hope is on offer here, is anaesthetic spray for the throat. I suppose once the Nord Stream Russian pipeline is in, I will be fine. I still say I would be happy with weekly or monthly visits to have those wonderful drips which proved so effective! My optimism is unbounded.......for now.

Soon though I need to turn to more mundane matters, such as dishwashing (haven't done any for a week!) and preparing food. I was thinking of fish fingers, mash and peas with a parsley sauce but that's too much trouble when you can't get packet sauce. I think instead I will have some soft-boiled eggs with a crusty roll and lashings of salt and pepper. Not ideal for constipation but as I have swallowed enough Clear-Drains over the past few weeks I reckon there's plenty of space left!

Tune in tomorrow to read the next exciting instalment!

Friday 15^th March, 2019 Ides 2000

Since my last post I have enjoyed but a few hours per day free of bellyache and nausea and have not been afforded one night wherein I didn't waken and have to go and heave in the toilet. I was at my wits' end.

Eventually I decided to bite the bullet and despite my aversion, go and have that enema. Today.

I took another day off work, my second in 9 years in China through illness, and duly went to the PLA hospital at 1400. I would have gone earlier (and this will sound stupid) but I felt too ill to venture out until then!

Obviously I was expecting to merely present my results from last time, them to look at the last gastroenterologist's remarks on the system and WHAM! BAM! Thank you Buddy! With a portable sprinkler up the jacksy.

Oh no. No sir, more bloods, another ECG and this time a CT scan – all without the assistance of anyone at all who spoke English. Apparently my blood tests showed a decent amount of blood in my alcohol stream but in my defence I was waiting to be assaulted up the back passage and be flooded with half the Atlantic so I rather needed to allay my fears with my “medicine”. Of course there were traces of alcohol!! Or perhaps just a tad more.......

It took two hours of testing and a lot of Chinese chattering between half a dozen doctors who seemed to have nobody except me to treat to decide I needed to be admitted for seven days. No internet, no beer, no English even? You know the answer. Anyway, Chinese hospitals make money so the more bums in beds the better they like it. I don't.

Then someone had the nous to find a translating phone (after a fashion) and suddenly that part of me that had been aghast at the prospect of an enema was wishing to hell that had been all that was required.

They need to investigate further with a gastroscope. The dreaded word “tumours” was mentioned. Suddenly that enema paled into insignificance and my mind turned from constipation to another word beginning with C but with a mere six letters.

If I said I wasn't concerned (or, let's face it, shitting myself) I would either be a blithering idiot or a liar. I am neither. “Not today!” I said, no way did I want a shedload of bad news (if bad news is all that's to come) in one serving. Thankfully the clinic that bungs pipes down your throat only operates on Mondays so I have the entire weekend to dwell. Before that though, the lady doctor asked if I would agree to an infusion of pain relief and antibiotics today. Sure. I wish I'd taken my laptop this time though. Three and a half hours and four IV bottles later I finally got to leave. I have to say though, for the first time in a while I feel as though I can eat so I am reheating two of my sausage rolls.

Alice is trying to get Monday off to come and translate for me and I hope she can. There is an added dimension to hospitals when nobody can communicate yet you sense something is amiss but don't know what. Human nature makes one graduate to the worst case and I am but human, despite what some may think.

I must confess for an hour I felt bleak but as always, a little reflection and quantities of jing jo brought a more philosophical and optimistic view. I can but speculate, perhaps they are benign polyps that simply need snipping off. If not, then hopefully a reasonably swift diagnosis has prevented anything too serious and there are drugs which will do the trick.

I simply don't get ill. I get colds and I break bones, that's my forte. This is uncharted territory for me. The ECG was ok though! And of course, it's all part of life's rich tapestry, it's merely unfortunate that it has been woven into mine!

But it proves I wasn't making it up!

Tuesday 5^th March, 2019 1730

Not entirely my fault it has been a while.

One reason is because for two weeks now I have been suffering from what I thought was constipation but eventually came to dread was something much more sinister. I found myself almost hoping it would be something so “simple” as a twisted gut, the alternative didn't bear thinking about. However when it comes to seeking medical attention I can procrastinate for England. And long-term readers will know I have a pathological aversion to Chinese hospitals anyway.

I did resolve to go to one yesterday morning but on waking I felt fine (well, not as bad as I had been) and so went shopping for the Monday meal. When I returned I started throwing up. Considering all I had eaten in six days were two small bread rolls and a couple of chocolate-covered wafers, there was nothing to come up. I was woken regularly last night with a dash to the toilet for the same reason.

The other problem is, and indeed means I have no idea when this will be posted, the Great Firewall is rampant as never before. Indeed, Adriana informed me they had a lecture on vpns and I am guessing threats of imprisonment for getting caught using one. My firm is currently working to get around the problem but already it has been three days.

So anyway, this morning I decided I had no choice but to seek medical attention. Not easy when nobody speaks English and annoyingly the hospital has no wifi – I took the laptop to translate my English but couldn't.

I was relieved of 1200¥, two vials of blood, sent for an ECG, ultrasound scan and an x-ray. To my untrained eye the ECG looked normal with no sign of the palpitations that plagued by job hunting two and a half years ago but the x-ray alarmed me. It showed a belt of black shapes stretching across my stomach, tracing my intestines. Thinking the worst, I immediately asked what they were. “Chitty”. What the hell is Chitty?? Air. Huge sigh of relief. It was beginning to look as if my diagnosis was correct. So basically what I had was a maxim gunbelt of scatter farts interspersed with cluster bombs.

Once all the tests were in, the gastroenterologist was summoned. Nice chap whose first words (via a telephone translation application) were that I should be admitted. Uh uh! Ok, operation on your abdomen. Nonono! Ok, saline enema. What???? Whoa – hold on a minute. I think we all know it's constipation so can I try some medicine first? But the enema will be a catharsis. Keep your catharsis, give me some pills and if they don't work then I'll come back and you can ram a pipe up my sphincter and fill me with seawater. But let's try the medicine first eh?

To assist with the entire inclusive experience, at one point a cadaver was wheeled inches away from me by two black-clad attendants. It would seem the routes from death bed to morgue or mortuary to undertakers do not involve discreet passageways or hidden rear doors, rather it's straight through main reception and into the car park. But not before stopping a few feet feet away from me whilst having a cheery chat with one of their mates. Oh, and just to round it all off, as I was leaving an understandably distraught father carried his son in with a nauseating dislocation/fracture to his elbow. And of course, although he had come to the right room, at that time it was the wrong room because just for me it was then a gastric room. I did not tarry on seeing that, my problem paled, the kid needed more than I did.

And you wonder why I avoid the hospital?

I now have some oral liquid stuff, enough for two days and which seems to be having an effect, albeit slowly, and four teardrop-shaped things I'm supposed to whack up my arse and squeeze liquid from. I may or may not have a go at that in the bathroom later. I'm also not supposed to eat anything until the medicine is finished. I may pass out.

I can only pray that I don't get caught short on campus tomorrow afternoon or it will be a rapid decamp to try and get to the disabled toilets in the hospital next door.