Out Of My Tree

It was another doctors appointment today.  Fun.  My Potassium levels are low but GOOD NEWS cats and kittens, my blood pressure is now within normal levels… Hurrah.

So, interesting conundrum. Do I keep taking the medication that is bringing my blood pressure down, but is making me tired and miserable and bleurghy.  I mean, my blood pressure was ridiculous and was causing me pain and some of that has gone, but the tiredness is really messing with my head.

Oh, and the sickness - probably the sickness bug that s going around.

Why can’t it just be easy?  Medication with no side effects.  Medication that just works

God, my head feels so fuzzy.  I have been asleep for most of two days and my brain is still there in the dream land where I am loved and the sun shines over perfect green fields.

Yeah, it’s all a bit messed up here today.

written by bec \\ tags: blood pressure, doctors, medication

What a night, huh? Congratulations America! President Obama - its got a good ring to it.

Anyway, surprisingly that’s not what I’m blathering about today.

I spent a second day in bed. I went to the doctor and got me some CLASSIC advise.

Me: I’m feeling wiped out, massively tired, knackered - you know, not awake.

Doctor (not my usual one but a total buttwipe): What you need there is some good quality rest.

Me: ?!?!

Me (half an hour later): What is good quality rest?!?!

If anyone has the answer to this question please please tell me!

Good quality rest.

Honestly, I can’t remember the last time I had any kind of rest where I woke up and felt good about the ‘lost’ time. I imagine if I searched back through the blog posts I’d find one but, well, I really can’t be bothered. I have a vague recollection of waking up wearing a cream satin nightdress and staring straight up into the eyes of a loved one, while he told me I was blushing. I remember that day feeling happy then.

One of my favourite quotes of all time is from Elizabeth Wurtzel:

"Waking up is harder when you want to die."

No, wait, I don’t want to die - this is not in anyway a moment to get panicky and start sending me healing posts and ‘happiness in a sunbeam’ type poetry (please don’t, there is nothing more depressing). Waking up is hard at the moment because I want to live. I want to live. I want to move and dance and sing and run and walk and climb and scream out loud with all the passion and pleasure and pain I can muster.

I am hoping that I will be able to do this and feel good (i.e. not like I am about to have a heart attack after 10 minutes) about it. I am trying to see the goal, the light at the end of the tunnel, the destination. When I know where I am going I can write my route down. I do better with a ‘to-do’ list. Something I can cross things off and see that I’m making it.

It’s one of the reasons I’m buying a set of bathroom scales. Maybe one of those complicated ones which do BMI calculations and all that palaver.

If I can quantify this then maybe I can start to believe that my own particular change is coming.

written by bec \\ tags: doctors, knobhead doctors, tired, waking up

Oh lucky me. Today I got to go to the department of the hospital we all love to go to. The one at Royal Preston Hospital is pink. All the way through - the floor, walls and woodwork - different shades of pink. It’s enough to send you over the road to the Mental Health department - a place I would much rather have been.

The receptionist was austere in her questions and looked at me like I was insane when I couldn’t answer the question about who my doctor is. It’s a difficult question - did she mean the doctor whose patient list I am on currently or the doctor who referred me to Gynae. She said not a word so I just spouted names until she indicated I have passed that challenge.

The waiting room was large and about half full of the variety of life you generlly only find in hospital waiting rooms. There was the traditional screaming baby, a bickering couple, an elderly lady on her own who keeps smiling at you and one ‘poor old dear’ in a wheelchair with a blanket over her knee being looked after by her incredibly loud daughter.

I was 15 minutes early for my appointment so entertained myself with a book (the first time this week I don’t take my MacBook!) and tried to make it look like I wasn’t bothered… My insides were churning the way they always do before any kind of examination.

Half an hour later they called my name and I was shown into a little room with two chairs, a curtain, a bed/trolley and a table full of horrifying torture equipment.

Questions were asked and blood pressure was taken by the nurse who then disappeared and I was alone again. I took the time to notice other things about the room - an emergency button, a thick cotton sheet badly folded, two kinds of bins, 4 sizes of gloves (oh please don’t let my doctor have XL hands) and a lamp angled like that for? Oh.

Then the doctor entered and all my fears and distrust of the medical profession returned as he talked at me and didn’t listen to a word I said and told me that I had been very stupid and made me feel more like crap than I have done in a long time.

That was the de-sensitiser I was looking for.

By the time I was lying back while he tried to find my ‘high cervix’ (which he made sound like I had on purpose) I just wanted to punch him and walk out.

He said one thing which was ‘If I am hurting you, please tell me." and then got on with it. Not even a slight tingle.

He then finished, washed his hands and left. The nurse who was in the room smiled at me in a sympathetic way and then I was alone again.

I was close to tears…

When he came back with the ‘plan’ it was to do more blood tests to confirm his diagnosis of Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome. When I tried to tell him that I had already had the tests for it and they came back negative he cut me off. How dare I presume to know more about my own health than him?

I have also got to have a scan and go back to see him in August. Oh and there are some pills too. Which I can’t have until after my scan whenever the hell that is. I told him it has to be first or last as I can’t have any more time off work (I mean work will let me have it but I’m starting to feel a little off about it. After tomorrow it’ll be three times this week. Three. And to be honest if I have to make a choice between job and health it’s job every single time.

He then told me I need to walk for 45 minutes every day to lose weight. Great idea. Seriously it is. Fantastic. I started to tell him about the breathing difficulties I am having and the barrier to exercise that was causing and he started to talk over me again, telling me that he was referring me to a dietician, and that they would be sending me a letter about the problem with my liver (what fucking problem with my liver?!) and that was all.

He left and the nurse returned to make sure I knew what I was doing. I left totally unsure about things, wanting to cry and REALLY not wanting to go back to work.

I am not frantically googling him to make sure he is vaguely qualified or, in fact, human. All evidence on the latter to the contrary.

I really should have gone to the other hospital.

written by bec \\ tags: doctors, gynaecology, insensitive prick, NHS

Today I got to spend a fortune dashing back and forth to the doctors to see the nurse. Again. Had a blood pressure test (oh, it’s still high) and an ECG.

She stuck the point pads on my ankles, wrists and then all over my chest. I hate lying back on those examination tables at the best of times but being prodded and poked in the, well, boob area really is not my idea of a cup of Earl Grey.

When she got the ECG machine out, with it’s multitude of wires hanging down my geek brain leapt like a new born salmon and my ‘let’s lighten the mood with a crap joke’ thing kicked in.

"Plugging me up to the Matrix are you?"

She stopped, looked at me like I had just lost my mind and the continued on, obviously deciding I wasn’t dangerous enough to be dragged off to a padded cell.

The test itself was short and sweet, the machine beeped in a regular and non scary fashion and she didn’t make any faces of horror.

(I, apparently when plugged in, am living a parallel life to my one in the real world (assuming this is the real world . How typical.)

I find out my results to this particular affair next week! BUT, the nurse did tell me there is nothing acute going on so we can take imminent death back off the schedule.

She started to take all the pads off again but the two on my ankles had decided they really liked where they were and became difficult about coming off. Later on I discovered some of the sticky glue stuff was still on my ankle and had been holding my trouser leg in place all day. Even better though, when I was getting undressed for bed tonight I found one of the pads still attached to me under my right breast. Lovely. My own personal souvenir of the event. Which I have now thrown away,

But because the unwritten rule is that you must come away from the doctors feeling worse than you did when you went in I missed one of the steps coming out and have done a weird twisty thing to my back, jarring it in some way so it now hurts like, well like everyone’s favourite four letter word beginning with F.

So roll on Gynaecology on Thursday!

written by bec \\ tags: blood pressure test, doctors, ecg, not dying, nurses

So, yeah, get on with it shall I?

Short version mostly because knackered doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel.

So, doctors today. Went, waited for a bit and then got my results.

Chest X-Ray - All normal.
Blood tests - All normal.

That’s right. Not so much as a slightly elevated hormone.

So, the question is - what next?

And the answer is:

Spirometry (lung function test) next week, and two weeks after that a trip to everybody’s favourite department - Gynaecology. And how I am looking forward to that.

So I got no answers today, but at least a step forwards. It’s a mystery, but it’s my mystery.

Anyway, the cool thing about today is I have been called Excellent by the quite frankly delicious Karl at Secondhand Tryptophan.

The rules of the award say I have to list the rules of the award, so:

1. Identify the originator of this award, and link so she can get her well-deserved traffic. It’s Kayla at Project Mommy.
2. Pass on at least 10 Excellent Blog Awards.

So, my 10. Obviously I love each and every one of you but… well…

I, like everyone else, have tried to pass it on to those that have not had it passed on to them by anyone else but they probably have and I just wasn’t paying attention or something… Sorry? Get on with it you say?

1. All That Comes With It
2. I Read Banned Books
3. Please Don’t Eat With Your Mouth Open
4. Selma In The City
5. Theory of Thought
6. Petroville
7. Not Graceful Enough To Be A Julia
8. The Daily Bitch
9. Chicka Nuts
10. LondonMaMa

written by bec \\ tags: , doctors, excellent blog award, results

I went to the doctor’s today. I know, shocker right - I actually kept my appointment unlike (so said the accusatory poster inside) the selfish 327 who didn’t causing another 327 to not have appointments at all. Yes, thank you. Guilt ridden we all now feel. Not that I have ever EVER made an appointment and then run away in fear… Ever.)

There was an electronic touch screen check in thing - no more bothering the receptionist’s for us. Oh no! Just two questions male or female, and date of birth. that was all it needed to know what time your appointment was and who it was with. Directions to Area 5 (which used to be called the First Floor) and a smiley face sending you on your way.

Sitting in the waiting room listening to quite loud Chris Evan’s DriveTime on Radio 2 (cheesy happy music for singing along to) with a woman I know from somewhere but can’t quite put my finger on. By the way, why; whenever you go to a doctor’s surgery, or anywhere with a waiting room; do you always see at least one person you know? And why is it never someone you know well enough to discuss why you are there? Anyway…

As I was the last appointment of the day I expected to be rushed in and rushed out, barely listened to and told I was fine with a dismissive flick of the wrist - the kind of thing I have come to expect from doctors over the years. Imagine by surprise when the GP listened intently, wrote down everything I was saying, asked pertinent questions and (amazingly) had read my notes before I stepped inside the surgery!

I was impressed. No, very impressed. Everything seemed to matter to her. The smallest concern I had was paid attention to and a plan was decided to deal with each one in turn. She even prescribed me a course of antibiotics as a first attack on one problem and didn’t rubbish the knowledge I had picked up from Google.

She has in a single blow restored my faith in the NHS. And as Mum gets better and better (she ate half a bowl of soup and a roll today and her sugar levels are starting to normalise) I’m beginning to think that ‘good’ is the standard of the NHS not the incompetent wankerage I had experienced in the past.

On an entirely different subject I have been using Numbers today (the Spreadsheet program in iWork ‘08) and I have to say so far I am very impressed. I like the (can I say this without sounding like a moron?) layout, and the templates are very easy to use as well, although I did end up starting from scratch. After using Excel (which Numbers imported and exported to with ease and flair) all these years with differing levels of success, I honestly thought I would have these difficulties with every program I tried. But, my God, is that another thing Apple does fantastically well? So, I no longer need Office for anything! Hurrah!

written by bec \\ tags: doctors, NHS, Numbers, Work '08

I have great respect for doctors and nurses. Great respect. Particularly those who work in the NHS. Far too much work for bugger all pay. Treated like crap by those in management and whined at by most of the public (yes, myself included). I just thought I’d preface this post with this so that people realise that this is coming from a place of panic and worry about my Mum. K? We clear? Sorry to all you lovely medical professionals.

There was supposed to be a scan at 10 o’clock this morning. It still had not happened at 4pm. This is my mother, people. Now I know this is selfish and that every person in there is someone’s mother, father, sister, brother, daughter, son, friend, lover, husband, wife but this is MY MOTHER. OKAY?! If you say you are going to do a scan at 10am then do the bloody scan at 10am or, at the very freakin’ least, advise when it is going to happen.

There have been some fairly scary words floated around as well. The calm way Dad has been taking it all made me wonder if I was just over-reacting. Then I phoned my aunt, who has her head screwed on right, to let her know and she reacted in the same way I did. Good. Freak outs necessary.

I just want to see my Mum, y’know. But visiting times are 3-5pm and if you are feeling even a teeny bit ill you can forget doing anywhere near the wards. Right now I look like zombies have had a go so I’ll probably be stopped at the first roadblock.

But today can’t get any worse right? Oh except smiley smiley Heath Ledger is dead. I mean, come on, seriously, WTF? I’m not sure how to feel about that.

I’m not sure how to feel about anything today.

written by bec \\ tags: , doctors, NHS, scary words