Firstly, let me just say that I'm not an expert. I'm just a patient. Any knowledge is based on what I've gone through and what I've read. Some of my opinions may be wrong. In fact, if I were you I'd treat them all as wrong! Go and see your doctor! Don't just live with it!
So I looked at how complicated the operation looked and thought: "My symptoms aren't worth risking having all that done". To be honest, it looked like the beginning of the long slide into old age - the first sign that my body has begun to betray me. And I put off action, knowing that eventually I would probably have to give in to fate anyway.
The best website I've found for answering the sort of questions I was asking was:
http://www.surgcare.co.za/B_PC_hiatus.asp#WHB_HHNF
Over the next year or so, the symptoms have got steadily worse. For example, one night a month or so ago, at 1 a.m., I woke up almost choking on my stomach acid. This was not the first time, but the first time it's been so very bad. My guess is that I sick up acid which I then breathe in, and my windpipe tries the best it can to deal with it. I was finding difficult to breathe and I was seriously considering ringing my medical aid number. Slowly, over an hour or so, my breathing got easier, although my throat felt as though it was burning. I was frightened, and I thought: I'm not going to let this happen again. But I still waited a couple of weeks, and the next week I had (in the daytime) very bad indigestion which lasted four days, which I tried to control with more antacids several times a day. And then it just cleared up overnight and it was like nothing had happened.
In both these new events, there was nothing obvious that could explain why it had happened. No particular food or drink that could have set it off. And so I rang the surgeon I'd visited before and booked to see him. It took a week. This time I took my better half, who deserved to have it explained better than I could, as she was going to have to put up with the consequences (indeed, she has done - for years!)
So we went through it all again, and this time, with research and hindsight, I think we took more of it in and asked more intelligent questions. He agreed I sounded like I was more in need of the op than before. And when he asked if I wanted to go away and think about it, I looked at T (my better half) and said to him: no, let's book me in. He had a space in his schedule six days away, and so we booked. And now I'm counting down.
So we went to the pub, had a meal and some beers (a risk, I know!), looked at the view (the Indian Ocean) and contemplated what's got to be done in the next week.
Five days to go.
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