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I was a clinical research fellow coming to the end of my
three year research programme on the aetiology of hepatobiliary
cancers. One of my final studies was to analyse bile, collected via
endoscopic retrograde cholangiopancreatography, with magnetic resonance
spectroscopy to look for differences between patients with cancer and
those without.
The initial spectroscopy readings were promising, with various bizarre,
never previously seen peaks proudly announcing themselves. My initial
excitement that I was on the verge of discovering the cause of biliary
cancer was soon cut short, however, on realising that these peaks were
probably due to the contrast agent used during
cholangiopancreatography. Time was running out I was pondering on how I could acquire such a sample on the train home.
My heart was beginning to sink, thinking of the months it would take to
get ethical committee approval for collecting surgical or postmortem
bile specimens, when I started to develop a pain in my back. By the
time I got home, the pain had moved to the front of the abdomen. I
decided to ignore it, putting it down to a particularly hard game of
indoor football the previous day, and thought I would cheer myself up
with a large curry. This was not a good idea. An hour later, I was
curled up on the floor with an intense, colicky right upper quadrant
pain, and (having examined my own abdomen) a classic Murphy's sign.
Despite my assurances that it was probably nothing, my wife sensibly
arranged to have me taken to hospital. There, first the on-call medical
registrar (also a gastroenterologist) and then the surgical registrar
diagnosed cholecystitis, and I was admitted.
I found it hard to believe that I was an inpatient with cholecystitis,
even when an ultrasound scan the next day confirmed an inflamed gall
bladder full of stones. Fortunately, it was not septic or obstructed,
and a week later I underwent a laparoscopic cholecystectomy. Before the
operation, I had mentioned my research in passing to the team looking
after me. They found the situation hilarious, but I was not amused.
However, when I awoke after the operation, I was glad that I had
mentioned it, for I found two specimen pots by my side. One contained
my gallstones, and the other 30 ml of my own bile.
It was a surreal and painful experience but not without advantages. I
have increased empathy with patients, particularly those in acute pain,
and with their desire for quick analgesia and treatment. I also
understand how tests that are relatively trivial to the treating
doctors on a Friday night may seem of monumental importance to
patients Divisions of Medicine and Imaging Sciences, Faculty
of Medicine, Imperial College, London
I had to submit my
thesis within a few months and still had other lab work to complete.
What I needed, and quickly, was a fresh, contrast-free bile sample. But
from where?
in my case a fasting lipid profile. And, finally, I had
obtained the fresh, unadulterated, contrast-free bile sample I needed
so urgently.
We welcome articles of up to 600 words on topics such as A memorable patient, A paper that changed my practice, My most unfortunate mistake, or any other piece conveying instruction, pathos, or humour. If possible the article should be supplied on a disk. Permission is needed from the patient or a relative if an identifiable patient is referred to. We also welcome contributions for "Endpieces," consisting of quotations of up to 80 words (but most are considerably shorter) from any source, ancient or modern, which have appealed to the reader.