Monday, 4 October 2010
Toilet humour
I pressed the bell to call the nurse to bring me the commode. Commode brought. Marvellous. I sat down and did a wee (I'm sure you wanted to know that ;oP ). Marvellous relief. I realised then that the toilet roll was on the other side of the room. Bugger. I had to negotiate my way around the table, the chair, the bed, the oxygen tubing, the drip stand, the computer wire, the bin, my shoes, and the wheelchair, all with my pyjama trousers around my ankles, in order to get to the damned toilet roll. And then, of course, I had to do the whole thing again in reverse whilst keeping hold of the toilet roll. And of course this was the time that my blood pressure decided to drop again and I very nearly ended up head-first in the commode pan with wires and leads and trousers wrapped around my ankles. Luckily I managed to avoid giving myself a wee facial, but this wasn't my finest hour, it has to be said.
Saturday, 2 October 2010
Plumbed in and switched on
It's a wee while since I last posted, when I was only a few days away from getting my new permanent plumbing in the form of a portacath. I was a tad nervous about the op, but Dr G gave me a small amount of medication to relax me so that I wasn't really bothered about what was going on, and that worked a treat. Before the whole thing started I had to have a single (but rather large) injection of a powerful antibiotic to ensure that the MRSA I carry doesn't infect the surgery wound, and this of course meant getting an IV line in, but seeing as I was getting the portacath put in because getting IV access in me is very difficult these days, it was not the easiest thing to do and the ward sister who was doing it said she could see why I was having the port fitted. Anyway, she eventually got access, and tentatively gave me the meds - teicoplanin - just in case I were to have an allergic reaction to it. Dr G was fairly confident that I wouldn't, but they can't be 100% sure until it's proved either way. Thankfully all went well and an hour or so later I was in theatre. I was given some local anaesthetic and then Dr G started the procedure, which at first I couldn't feel anything of, but then suddenly could as he pushed his finger through my chest muscles to make a hole for the portacath to sit in. It hurt. A lot. I managed not to say anything, but the pained expression clearly showed on my face and I was quickly given some more local anaesthetic. After that there was just a bit of pushing and prodding, and slightly weird feelings on the inside as the catheter bit of the portacath was pushed inside and assessed for length. At first it was all a bit odd and I wondered if I'd just get used to the feeling of the catheter inside my vein, but shortly after Dr G attached the port bit to the catheter bit he decided that the catheter bit was too long, so he pulled it a little way out, cut a smidgen off, and all of a sudden all weird sensation disappeared. The portacath was sewn into place, my skin was pulled together and stuck together with industrial-strength steristrips, a dressing was put over the whole lot and I was taken back to the ward. I was in theatre for perhaps an hour and a half - a little longer than they'd originally thought it'd be - and then I had an x-ray to check that all was okay and there hadn't been any complicating lung collapse or the likes. All clear, a little rest on the ward, and then I was free for my mum and step-dad to take me home. Marvellous! It was a little sore for a few days, but you don't expect to be pain free when you've had a man come at your chest with a knife, push his finger through your chest muscles, and then insert a piece of metal with a plastic tail into you, do you? It wasn't awful though and a regular combination of codeine and paracetamol settled it fairly well.
A little over a week later and I was at the GP surgery because I've been getting neuropathy in my hands. The doc examined me and has decided that I most likely have carpal tunnel syndrome :o( and she's referring me to plastics, which seems a bit odd as you'd expect neurology to deal with nerves etc, but apparently it's plastics who 'do' carpal tunnel syndrome. I'm told they'll do a nerve conduction test (whatever that might be), and if it tests positive then the likely outcome is a small operation to reduce the pressure on the offending nerve - the medial nerve, I think. So yes, that's why I went to the GP, but after we'd covered that she asked, 'So, can I ask? How's you're breathing?' Seeing as I couldn't speak in full sentences it would've been foolish to try to persuade her that I was okay, so I came clean and said that it wasn't great, and that yes, I was had deteriorated a little since I saw one of the other GPs two weeks previously. She had a listen to my lungs. She wasn't very impressed. Actually she looked a little scared, but she was an F2 trainee GP so perhaps hasn't come across an awful lot of awful asthmatics. She left the room and got her supervising GP - Dr Cn - who knows me very well. Now he's seen me a lot worse, but he wasn't happy with me either and both 'strongly recommended' that I go to hospital. I conceded. To be honest I was tired of the struggle that had been getting worse over recent times, and while I was at the surgery they got through to the ward and arranged a bed for me. Now, as is my wont, I almost always have something much more pressing to do than immediately go to hospital, and this time it was that I needed to get home to let the man from the council come in to check the electrics of the new ventilation system. It was supposed to have been done the previous week, but I'd had to cancel it as the appointment clashed with my portacath operation, and suddenly it seemed the worst thing in the world to let him down and not be in at the re-arranged time. The docs were a little confused as to my insistence that this was more important than getting to hospital, but Dr Cn does at least know my strange ways when I'm ill, and decided that I was safe enough to do this. As it turned out, the ward didn't have a bed until 1pm anyway (and it was currently around 10.50am) so I'd have been hanging around the surgery for ages. I was better off at home where I could gather my hospital bag, my meds, sort out the cat, and, of course, let the man from the council do the checking he needed to do.
I went home. I was okay. Well, I was sort of okay, in a kind of Becky-ish way. I texted W to let her know what was happening, and she wasn't surprised to hear that I was being admitted as she'd seen me just 36 hours previously and was concerned. She came right over and waited with me until it was time to come up to the hospital ... although actually we had to wait a little while as W's lungs were naff too and she needed to nebulise before she could drive me up to the hospital.
When I got to the ward I was still in that 'not too bad for Becky' kind of state, but as seems to happen sometimes when I've been deteriorating over a while and then get to somewhere 'safe' to splat, I did then splat and ended up quite poorly :o( We'd been hoping not to have to use my new plumbing quite so soon, but it wasn't long before it became evident that it was going to be put to use. But oh my word, how amazing! It's fantastic! No pain. No farting around with endless cannulae. No panic while trying to get a needle into a vein that doesn't want to be stabbed or have a needle put into it. No hassle. Just get the technique right, plug me in and set me going! Amazing! Wonderful! Awesome! And no hassle since, either. No problems with the lines stopping working, or leaking, or giving up, or getting caught and being pulled out. Nothing. Just straightforward, continual clear running. Huge relief. It's the best thing ever! Can you tell that I quite like it? ;oP So yes, while it was unfortunate that it was needed so soon after being implanted it has made that little bit of hospital life so much easier. However, the night wasn't easy and I was really quite ill. My blood gases were a bit of a mixed bag, with my pO2 being okay, but my pCO2 being a little too high for comfort, and that's a concern. That's the one that indicates how tired you're getting, and rather than coming down it was getting higher. Thankfully I managed to avoid ITU, although the outreach team did come to see me several times over the next several days to keep an eye on me and to keep reassessing whether or not I needed to be transferred to ITU. I don't like it there though and will do all I can to stay up on the ward. Anyway, I avoided it :o)
The night was a long night; a breathless and scary night. The registrar who was on call was worried, and although she'd gone home at about 1am she kept phoning the ward to see how I was, and at about 5am she said she was too worried, was giving up on sleep and coming in to be with me. Bless her. I was utterly exhausted, but still just about holding my own, and then things gradually started to ease, and eventually I fell asleep for a short time, although breathing remained hard work for the rest of the day, the following night and into the next morning. And then I slept. And I slept. And I slept. And then I slept some more. And then I started to feel a little bit more human although still very tired.
We started to tentatively reduce the aminophylline infusion from 50ml/hr to 40ml/hr, and that seemed to go okay, so 24 hours later we reduced it again to 20ml/hr. That started off okay, but then I woke up in the middle of the night unable to breathe and back at square one, with rising pCO2 again, ineffective nebulisers, ITU back up here for 3 hours and outreach keeping returning to check on me. I felt awful. I was scared. I was exhausted. I would've cried if I'd had the energy or the breath, but I had neither. I prayed and I prayed, and I texted my friends asking them for prayer too, and my friends texted back with both prayer and other support, keeping me sane in the scariness of it all. I think the medical staff probably find it odd that I often text when I'm really ill, but it's such a lonely, isolated time, and there's so much going round in my head that I'm not able to speak as I don't have the breath, but which I can say in text with ease. And wherever they are in the country, my friends have been there for me and sat with me in the dark at the end of the text line and seen me through the fearful events, and the painful tests, and the desperate fight for breath, and the complete exhaustion. And I know that they are worried and scared too, but they stay there with me all the same. They are amazing. They give me strength and fight, and they let me know that I'm not alone.
Eventually I made it through the relapse and I slept for another 36 hours with my head full of violent dreams about death, attack, beatings, fear. Little of it was truly restful and I kept waking for brief times full of fear, but too exhausted to stay awake, so I fell back into another, different violent dream. I'm still finding my dreams are violent and vicious and frightening - this phase persisting longer than usual - but perhaps that's because there was such a bad set-back that my body and mind weren't prepared for another assault so quickly on the heels of the first.
At last I am eventually feeling more human - human enough to have the computer out this evening and be updating you on recent times. I am still tired. I'm still on the oxygen and the aminophylline infusion, but the dose has been reduced again this afternoon back to 20ml/hr (it had been put back up to 50ml/hr when I relapsed) ... so now I'm back to where I was the night before I had the set-back. I've no reason to believe that the same thing will happen again, and I actually feel a little more stable this time round than I did last time, but it's always a little anxiety provoking and I won't be counting any chickens of any kind until the drip is down successfully.
A little over a week later and I was at the GP surgery because I've been getting neuropathy in my hands. The doc examined me and has decided that I most likely have carpal tunnel syndrome :o( and she's referring me to plastics, which seems a bit odd as you'd expect neurology to deal with nerves etc, but apparently it's plastics who 'do' carpal tunnel syndrome. I'm told they'll do a nerve conduction test (whatever that might be), and if it tests positive then the likely outcome is a small operation to reduce the pressure on the offending nerve - the medial nerve, I think. So yes, that's why I went to the GP, but after we'd covered that she asked, 'So, can I ask? How's you're breathing?' Seeing as I couldn't speak in full sentences it would've been foolish to try to persuade her that I was okay, so I came clean and said that it wasn't great, and that yes, I was had deteriorated a little since I saw one of the other GPs two weeks previously. She had a listen to my lungs. She wasn't very impressed. Actually she looked a little scared, but she was an F2 trainee GP so perhaps hasn't come across an awful lot of awful asthmatics. She left the room and got her supervising GP - Dr Cn - who knows me very well. Now he's seen me a lot worse, but he wasn't happy with me either and both 'strongly recommended' that I go to hospital. I conceded. To be honest I was tired of the struggle that had been getting worse over recent times, and while I was at the surgery they got through to the ward and arranged a bed for me. Now, as is my wont, I almost always have something much more pressing to do than immediately go to hospital, and this time it was that I needed to get home to let the man from the council come in to check the electrics of the new ventilation system. It was supposed to have been done the previous week, but I'd had to cancel it as the appointment clashed with my portacath operation, and suddenly it seemed the worst thing in the world to let him down and not be in at the re-arranged time. The docs were a little confused as to my insistence that this was more important than getting to hospital, but Dr Cn does at least know my strange ways when I'm ill, and decided that I was safe enough to do this. As it turned out, the ward didn't have a bed until 1pm anyway (and it was currently around 10.50am) so I'd have been hanging around the surgery for ages. I was better off at home where I could gather my hospital bag, my meds, sort out the cat, and, of course, let the man from the council do the checking he needed to do.
I went home. I was okay. Well, I was sort of okay, in a kind of Becky-ish way. I texted W to let her know what was happening, and she wasn't surprised to hear that I was being admitted as she'd seen me just 36 hours previously and was concerned. She came right over and waited with me until it was time to come up to the hospital ... although actually we had to wait a little while as W's lungs were naff too and she needed to nebulise before she could drive me up to the hospital.
When I got to the ward I was still in that 'not too bad for Becky' kind of state, but as seems to happen sometimes when I've been deteriorating over a while and then get to somewhere 'safe' to splat, I did then splat and ended up quite poorly :o( We'd been hoping not to have to use my new plumbing quite so soon, but it wasn't long before it became evident that it was going to be put to use. But oh my word, how amazing! It's fantastic! No pain. No farting around with endless cannulae. No panic while trying to get a needle into a vein that doesn't want to be stabbed or have a needle put into it. No hassle. Just get the technique right, plug me in and set me going! Amazing! Wonderful! Awesome! And no hassle since, either. No problems with the lines stopping working, or leaking, or giving up, or getting caught and being pulled out. Nothing. Just straightforward, continual clear running. Huge relief. It's the best thing ever! Can you tell that I quite like it? ;oP So yes, while it was unfortunate that it was needed so soon after being implanted it has made that little bit of hospital life so much easier. However, the night wasn't easy and I was really quite ill. My blood gases were a bit of a mixed bag, with my pO2 being okay, but my pCO2 being a little too high for comfort, and that's a concern. That's the one that indicates how tired you're getting, and rather than coming down it was getting higher. Thankfully I managed to avoid ITU, although the outreach team did come to see me several times over the next several days to keep an eye on me and to keep reassessing whether or not I needed to be transferred to ITU. I don't like it there though and will do all I can to stay up on the ward. Anyway, I avoided it :o)
The night was a long night; a breathless and scary night. The registrar who was on call was worried, and although she'd gone home at about 1am she kept phoning the ward to see how I was, and at about 5am she said she was too worried, was giving up on sleep and coming in to be with me. Bless her. I was utterly exhausted, but still just about holding my own, and then things gradually started to ease, and eventually I fell asleep for a short time, although breathing remained hard work for the rest of the day, the following night and into the next morning. And then I slept. And I slept. And I slept. And then I slept some more. And then I started to feel a little bit more human although still very tired.
We started to tentatively reduce the aminophylline infusion from 50ml/hr to 40ml/hr, and that seemed to go okay, so 24 hours later we reduced it again to 20ml/hr. That started off okay, but then I woke up in the middle of the night unable to breathe and back at square one, with rising pCO2 again, ineffective nebulisers, ITU back up here for 3 hours and outreach keeping returning to check on me. I felt awful. I was scared. I was exhausted. I would've cried if I'd had the energy or the breath, but I had neither. I prayed and I prayed, and I texted my friends asking them for prayer too, and my friends texted back with both prayer and other support, keeping me sane in the scariness of it all. I think the medical staff probably find it odd that I often text when I'm really ill, but it's such a lonely, isolated time, and there's so much going round in my head that I'm not able to speak as I don't have the breath, but which I can say in text with ease. And wherever they are in the country, my friends have been there for me and sat with me in the dark at the end of the text line and seen me through the fearful events, and the painful tests, and the desperate fight for breath, and the complete exhaustion. And I know that they are worried and scared too, but they stay there with me all the same. They are amazing. They give me strength and fight, and they let me know that I'm not alone.
Eventually I made it through the relapse and I slept for another 36 hours with my head full of violent dreams about death, attack, beatings, fear. Little of it was truly restful and I kept waking for brief times full of fear, but too exhausted to stay awake, so I fell back into another, different violent dream. I'm still finding my dreams are violent and vicious and frightening - this phase persisting longer than usual - but perhaps that's because there was such a bad set-back that my body and mind weren't prepared for another assault so quickly on the heels of the first.
At last I am eventually feeling more human - human enough to have the computer out this evening and be updating you on recent times. I am still tired. I'm still on the oxygen and the aminophylline infusion, but the dose has been reduced again this afternoon back to 20ml/hr (it had been put back up to 50ml/hr when I relapsed) ... so now I'm back to where I was the night before I had the set-back. I've no reason to believe that the same thing will happen again, and I actually feel a little more stable this time round than I did last time, but it's always a little anxiety provoking and I won't be counting any chickens of any kind until the drip is down successfully.
Saturday, 11 September 2010
Plumbing and ventilation
So sorry that I haven't posted for a couple of weeks. This is partly because I had some time away in Edinburgh visiting my mum and step-dad, and although I took my computer with me, I spent more time reading and doing cross-stitch than online. Since coming back I've been a little distracted by still not feeling too well and very much trying to stay out of hospital.
I had to postpone my trip up north by a day and a half because I had a call from Dr G's secretary offering me an appointment to discuss the portacath situation. Having waited for this for so long (or at least it seems that way) I wasn't going to turn this appointment down, so on the Thursday afternoon I made my way to the RVI to see Dr G. He went through the possible risks of the operation - mostly that of a collapsed lung - and those of post-op - mainly infection - and he showed me a portacath and explained how it was implanted. I'm having the op on Tuesday, this coming Tuesday! It's another of these ops that's done under local anaesthetic, although Dr G did say that he'd give me a little sedation. He also said that if anything did happen to go wrong (only occurs in about 1% of cases apparently) then he'd be there and he'd deal with it. I have confidence in Dr G. I've met him on several occasions and know that he's highly competent. He can sometimes come across as a big bear of a man, although he does seem to have shrunk in size a little in recent times, but his personality is as big as ever.
When Dr H agreed to the possibility of a portacath he said that there was one proviso: that the portacath not be used in A&E, but when I was in A&E a couple of months ago and they asked me if I had the port yet I told them no and that I'd been told A&E wouldn't be able to use it. They'd said they would in a life-threatening situation. Hmmm. I said all this to Dr G and he responded by saying that yes, in a life-threatening situation then A&E could use it and (aside from the risk of infection) one of the main reasons they wouldn't be able to was because they wouldn't have the right needle, but he'd give me some of these just for a life-threatening attack in A&E. Okay, thanks, but what about those attacks where I'm in A&E but it's not quite life-threatening? 'Well,' he said, 'What you do in that situation is you say, "GET THE F*** OFF!" and then they can't touch it.' Errr, right. I can't quite see myself either using quite that language in A&E, nor having the breath to scream obscenities at them, but I'll do my best to come up with something as effective. Then it struck me. Here I was sitting in this little room with a doc who'd just screamed 'GET THE F*** OFF!' and soon I was going to have to walk out of there, into the waiting room with quite a number of people in it who will likely have heard the exclamation! So a short while later, when the consult was over, I decided there was nothing for it - I was just going to have to walk tall, look confident, and smile. I did. I got several wary looks that followed me to the reception desk and then up the corridor as I left.
So here I am now, three days away from becoming a little bit more bionic. At the moment I'm not that nervous, although I'm sure I will be at least a little nervous come Tuesday. I'm just really, really hoping that my lungs are up to it. Dr G is both a respiratory consultant and an ITU doc so I'm in very safe hands, but there'll also be no hiding lung naffness from him.
Whilst my personal ventilation isn't going too well, my flat's ventilation is doing marvellously, thanks to the folk at EnviroVent. You will no doubt remember that after my appearance on the local news supporting Asthma UK's Fighting For Breath Report, EnviroVent contacted me via BBC to offer me free installation of some of their equipment as they thought it might help me. This resulted in a second TV appearance, but more importantly it's resulted in much purer air in my home. It'll take a while, I should think, to get the full benefit as dust mites and any mould spores don't disappear overnight, but the air is certainly much improved. The time that I first noticed a real difference was a few days before I went up to Edinburgh. It was extremely muggy and humid outside and when I went out to the shops I could barely breathe. Back at home there was none of that humidity and suddenly breathing was so much easier again. I spent the rest of the day inside, and have done so on several other similarly humid days since. I know it's not a magic cure, but it's already helped in at least one situation and that is so unexpectedly fantastic. Unexpected because I didn't expect anything ever again to be offered to me that might, just might help my asthma in any way. Here's to EnivroVent!
I had to postpone my trip up north by a day and a half because I had a call from Dr G's secretary offering me an appointment to discuss the portacath situation. Having waited for this for so long (or at least it seems that way) I wasn't going to turn this appointment down, so on the Thursday afternoon I made my way to the RVI to see Dr G. He went through the possible risks of the operation - mostly that of a collapsed lung - and those of post-op - mainly infection - and he showed me a portacath and explained how it was implanted. I'm having the op on Tuesday, this coming Tuesday! It's another of these ops that's done under local anaesthetic, although Dr G did say that he'd give me a little sedation. He also said that if anything did happen to go wrong (only occurs in about 1% of cases apparently) then he'd be there and he'd deal with it. I have confidence in Dr G. I've met him on several occasions and know that he's highly competent. He can sometimes come across as a big bear of a man, although he does seem to have shrunk in size a little in recent times, but his personality is as big as ever.
When Dr H agreed to the possibility of a portacath he said that there was one proviso: that the portacath not be used in A&E, but when I was in A&E a couple of months ago and they asked me if I had the port yet I told them no and that I'd been told A&E wouldn't be able to use it. They'd said they would in a life-threatening situation. Hmmm. I said all this to Dr G and he responded by saying that yes, in a life-threatening situation then A&E could use it and (aside from the risk of infection) one of the main reasons they wouldn't be able to was because they wouldn't have the right needle, but he'd give me some of these just for a life-threatening attack in A&E. Okay, thanks, but what about those attacks where I'm in A&E but it's not quite life-threatening? 'Well,' he said, 'What you do in that situation is you say, "GET THE F*** OFF!" and then they can't touch it.' Errr, right. I can't quite see myself either using quite that language in A&E, nor having the breath to scream obscenities at them, but I'll do my best to come up with something as effective. Then it struck me. Here I was sitting in this little room with a doc who'd just screamed 'GET THE F*** OFF!' and soon I was going to have to walk out of there, into the waiting room with quite a number of people in it who will likely have heard the exclamation! So a short while later, when the consult was over, I decided there was nothing for it - I was just going to have to walk tall, look confident, and smile. I did. I got several wary looks that followed me to the reception desk and then up the corridor as I left.
So here I am now, three days away from becoming a little bit more bionic. At the moment I'm not that nervous, although I'm sure I will be at least a little nervous come Tuesday. I'm just really, really hoping that my lungs are up to it. Dr G is both a respiratory consultant and an ITU doc so I'm in very safe hands, but there'll also be no hiding lung naffness from him.
Whilst my personal ventilation isn't going too well, my flat's ventilation is doing marvellously, thanks to the folk at EnviroVent. You will no doubt remember that after my appearance on the local news supporting Asthma UK's Fighting For Breath Report, EnviroVent contacted me via BBC to offer me free installation of some of their equipment as they thought it might help me. This resulted in a second TV appearance, but more importantly it's resulted in much purer air in my home. It'll take a while, I should think, to get the full benefit as dust mites and any mould spores don't disappear overnight, but the air is certainly much improved. The time that I first noticed a real difference was a few days before I went up to Edinburgh. It was extremely muggy and humid outside and when I went out to the shops I could barely breathe. Back at home there was none of that humidity and suddenly breathing was so much easier again. I spent the rest of the day inside, and have done so on several other similarly humid days since. I know it's not a magic cure, but it's already helped in at least one situation and that is so unexpectedly fantastic. Unexpected because I didn't expect anything ever again to be offered to me that might, just might help my asthma in any way. Here's to EnivroVent!
Tuesday, 24 August 2010
Pausing for breath
Last week was a bit manic and mainly with health related appointments. Monday's was with the disabilities advisor at Newcastle University's Student Welfare, during which we went through what needs I may have while I'm studying with them. It was very useful, but obviously concentrated on how decrepit I am so I came out feeling a bit pleugh, although I did also feel positive about how they're going to manage things. One of the most ridiculous things the DA is having to sort out is for staff to get permission to use my Epi-Pen on me if the need should arise. At the moment they're not allowed to in case I sue them for assault! Crackers! The DA is going to speak to Occupational Health and also the Health and Safety Officer, who apparently is the only person currently allowed to use my Epi-Pen on me, but that's no good if he's not immediately around because if I need someone else to administer the adrenaline then I need it there and then. Various other things are going to be put in place too, including a note-taker to attend my lectures when I'm in hospital. Brill. There'll likely be bits of equipment I'll be getting too, either through the university or through the Disabled Students Allowance, which I've eventually got around to applying for after all these years of study.
Tuesday's appointment was relatively brief and was with the optician. I'd been told after my cataract operation that I had to go to my regular optician for a sight test and check-up two days before my check-up with the ophthalmologist. It seems a bit daft to me seeing as they do a basic sight test at the ophthalmology department when you go for your appointment, but I was good and went to the optician. The verdict is that my general sight in my right eye has improved a little since the cataract was removed, but my reading sight is a little worse. I could've told them that myself ;o) I have to go back for another sight test and new glasses after my second op.
My psychiatrist was supposed to come on Wednesday morning - 8.30. Ug - but twenty minutes after she was due here she rang me to say that the centre had been crazy all week so she'd had to go straight there. Somewhat ironic that she should describe a mental health centre as 'crazy' ;oP It made me smile anyway. After apologising for not being able to make it she said, 'I have a confession to make,' which made me a little nervous until she continued, 'I was watching telly the other day and I saw you. I shouted, "That's Becky! That's Becky!"' Tee hee :o) After that we had a relatively short telephone consultation, which went okay and was really just a quick monitoring and my conveyance of a self-assessment of how I am. I'm doing okay emotionally - certainly better than the last time I saw her :o)
On Wednesday afternoon I had an appointment with the physio at Freeman Hospital - a pre-pulmonary rehab assessment. This mainly consisted of going through a questionnaire I'd had to fill in before the appointment and going through another questionnaire the physio had there that concentrated on exercise tolerance, perception of health, and my goals for the pulmonary rehab. We obviously also discussed their concerns about my passing out and how they/I will manage them during rehab. Then I had to do a 6 minute walk test to see what happened to my oxygen saturations and my pulse rate. Predictably, my O2 dropped (but only a little) and my pulse rate went up, and of course I staggered around a fair bit, frequently using the wall for support, as walking in a straight line for anything more than a few steps (and sometimes not even that much) doesn't happen with me these days. The verdict is that I'm decrepit enough to warrant being on pulmonary rehab and not so awfully decrepit (at this moment in time) that I'm excluded from taking part :oD I start on Thursday next week.
Most of Thursday afternoon was taken up with the ophthalmology appointment I mentioned before. I was running a little late through the day after a bit of a rubbish night and I was worried that I might be late for my appointment, but honestly it's their time-keeping that needs putting in check, not mine. Like last time, I was there for three hours! Three hours! Three hours for a five minute sight set and a five minute consult with the doctor. At least I got a date for my second cataract removal op - 13th October. I was hoping that I'd get something before that, but as it's the consultant doing the op that's the earliest they had, but said they'd give me a call if they got a cancellation.
Friday morning was taken up with a 'Continuing Care' assessment by Social Services, which took about an hour and a half and again meant concentrating on how utterly rubbish my health is. The point of it is to assess my level of care needs that are medical based, rather than socially based, and therefore how much, if any, the Primary Care Trust (PCT) will pay towards it. To be honest I'm not completely sure how this may effect me. I mean, I don't know if it effects how much I have to pay towards my care or if it's purely to see if I pay the PCT or Social Services ... or some other variation of this. All I really know is that it's something to do with payment, and that going through the assessment made me feel pretty lousy about my health and general state of well-being :o( And to top off the day (and the week) I had a dentist appointment. It was just a check-up, but going to the dentist is never fun. I haven't actually been to the dentist since June last year when he accidentally instigated anaphylaxis by smearing something with a tiny amount of banana derivative in it on my teeth. As soon as the dentist saw me in the waiting room he came and sat beside me and said he was about to go into the room and clean everything thoroughly before I went in and he wasn't going to wear latex gloves, even though I'm not (yet) allergic to latex. When I went in he said, 'I'll have a look, but I'll probably just need to do a scale and polish and I'll get the hygienist to do that.' I got the impression he was slightly nervous ;oP He must have spent all of about a minute looking at my teeth before saying that he was right - a scale and polish with the hygienist is all that's needed. I wonder if the dentist will warn the hygienist that I'm a terrifying patient to have in the practice ;oP He certainly couldn't get me out of there fast enough.
So that was last week, during which time my lungs have been slipping and I'm not sure how long I'm going to last. I've been taking things easy the past few days, trying to beat the old breathing bags into submission with rather a lot of salbutamol and prednisolone. I think I'm much the same today as I was yesterday, and I need to keep on a level as I'm going up to Edinburgh later in the week. I was supposed to be going up there tomorrow, but yesterday I had a phone call from Dr G's secretary giving me an appointment for a pre-portacath consultation on Thursday afternoon. This is good news. I've been waiting for this for what feels like ages. Dr G is going on holiday for two weeks after this, but his secretary said that he's trying to organise a date for theatre for when he gets back. Maybe I'll get a date for the operation when I see him on Thursday. I'm sure it'll give me a lot to think about on the drive north immediately after the appointment.
I'm sincerely hoping that I'm going to be okay while I'm in Edinburgh - breathing wise, I mean - but things are really quite iffy at the moment. I can manage if I stay still, but breathing and walking is something of a challenge. I've got an appointment with Dr H (asthma consultant) on Thursday next week so we'll see what he has to say, and how I am, but at the moment I'm very unimpressed with the state of things ... and I'm not excluding the possibility that I'll end up in hospital while I'm in Edinburgh :o( I hope not. I really do. I'll keep you informed.
Tuesday's appointment was relatively brief and was with the optician. I'd been told after my cataract operation that I had to go to my regular optician for a sight test and check-up two days before my check-up with the ophthalmologist. It seems a bit daft to me seeing as they do a basic sight test at the ophthalmology department when you go for your appointment, but I was good and went to the optician. The verdict is that my general sight in my right eye has improved a little since the cataract was removed, but my reading sight is a little worse. I could've told them that myself ;o) I have to go back for another sight test and new glasses after my second op.
My psychiatrist was supposed to come on Wednesday morning - 8.30. Ug - but twenty minutes after she was due here she rang me to say that the centre had been crazy all week so she'd had to go straight there. Somewhat ironic that she should describe a mental health centre as 'crazy' ;oP It made me smile anyway. After apologising for not being able to make it she said, 'I have a confession to make,' which made me a little nervous until she continued, 'I was watching telly the other day and I saw you. I shouted, "That's Becky! That's Becky!"' Tee hee :o) After that we had a relatively short telephone consultation, which went okay and was really just a quick monitoring and my conveyance of a self-assessment of how I am. I'm doing okay emotionally - certainly better than the last time I saw her :o)
On Wednesday afternoon I had an appointment with the physio at Freeman Hospital - a pre-pulmonary rehab assessment. This mainly consisted of going through a questionnaire I'd had to fill in before the appointment and going through another questionnaire the physio had there that concentrated on exercise tolerance, perception of health, and my goals for the pulmonary rehab. We obviously also discussed their concerns about my passing out and how they/I will manage them during rehab. Then I had to do a 6 minute walk test to see what happened to my oxygen saturations and my pulse rate. Predictably, my O2 dropped (but only a little) and my pulse rate went up, and of course I staggered around a fair bit, frequently using the wall for support, as walking in a straight line for anything more than a few steps (and sometimes not even that much) doesn't happen with me these days. The verdict is that I'm decrepit enough to warrant being on pulmonary rehab and not so awfully decrepit (at this moment in time) that I'm excluded from taking part :oD I start on Thursday next week.
Most of Thursday afternoon was taken up with the ophthalmology appointment I mentioned before. I was running a little late through the day after a bit of a rubbish night and I was worried that I might be late for my appointment, but honestly it's their time-keeping that needs putting in check, not mine. Like last time, I was there for three hours! Three hours! Three hours for a five minute sight set and a five minute consult with the doctor. At least I got a date for my second cataract removal op - 13th October. I was hoping that I'd get something before that, but as it's the consultant doing the op that's the earliest they had, but said they'd give me a call if they got a cancellation.
Friday morning was taken up with a 'Continuing Care' assessment by Social Services, which took about an hour and a half and again meant concentrating on how utterly rubbish my health is. The point of it is to assess my level of care needs that are medical based, rather than socially based, and therefore how much, if any, the Primary Care Trust (PCT) will pay towards it. To be honest I'm not completely sure how this may effect me. I mean, I don't know if it effects how much I have to pay towards my care or if it's purely to see if I pay the PCT or Social Services ... or some other variation of this. All I really know is that it's something to do with payment, and that going through the assessment made me feel pretty lousy about my health and general state of well-being :o( And to top off the day (and the week) I had a dentist appointment. It was just a check-up, but going to the dentist is never fun. I haven't actually been to the dentist since June last year when he accidentally instigated anaphylaxis by smearing something with a tiny amount of banana derivative in it on my teeth. As soon as the dentist saw me in the waiting room he came and sat beside me and said he was about to go into the room and clean everything thoroughly before I went in and he wasn't going to wear latex gloves, even though I'm not (yet) allergic to latex. When I went in he said, 'I'll have a look, but I'll probably just need to do a scale and polish and I'll get the hygienist to do that.' I got the impression he was slightly nervous ;oP He must have spent all of about a minute looking at my teeth before saying that he was right - a scale and polish with the hygienist is all that's needed. I wonder if the dentist will warn the hygienist that I'm a terrifying patient to have in the practice ;oP He certainly couldn't get me out of there fast enough.
So that was last week, during which time my lungs have been slipping and I'm not sure how long I'm going to last. I've been taking things easy the past few days, trying to beat the old breathing bags into submission with rather a lot of salbutamol and prednisolone. I think I'm much the same today as I was yesterday, and I need to keep on a level as I'm going up to Edinburgh later in the week. I was supposed to be going up there tomorrow, but yesterday I had a phone call from Dr G's secretary giving me an appointment for a pre-portacath consultation on Thursday afternoon. This is good news. I've been waiting for this for what feels like ages. Dr G is going on holiday for two weeks after this, but his secretary said that he's trying to organise a date for theatre for when he gets back. Maybe I'll get a date for the operation when I see him on Thursday. I'm sure it'll give me a lot to think about on the drive north immediately after the appointment.
I'm sincerely hoping that I'm going to be okay while I'm in Edinburgh - breathing wise, I mean - but things are really quite iffy at the moment. I can manage if I stay still, but breathing and walking is something of a challenge. I've got an appointment with Dr H (asthma consultant) on Thursday next week so we'll see what he has to say, and how I am, but at the moment I'm very unimpressed with the state of things ... and I'm not excluding the possibility that I'll end up in hospital while I'm in Edinburgh :o( I hope not. I really do. I'll keep you informed.
Friday, 13 August 2010
Question 1
Sometimes things puzzle me. Here's one of those things:
Why did God make moths nocturnal when they're attracted to light?
Why did God make moths nocturnal when they're attracted to light?
Wednesday, 11 August 2010
Results!
Hurrah! I have good things to report! First off, I got the results for my latest OU course - children's literature - and I got a Distinction (a First) with 90% for the End of Course Assessment (the one I wrote when I was so desperately ill because I was refused an extension) and 86.5% for the continuous assessment. All but one of my continuous assessment essays were over 85%, but my OCA mark was brought down a little by the 78% I got for the second assignment Sooo, the Distinction I've got for this course adds to the other three I've got, and although I have one more course to do before I graduate I know now that I will come out with a First Class Honours degree, providing I pass the last course. As I'm doing things in my typical backwards way, this last course I have to do is only a foundation course so it's just pass or fail - no variation in pass levels - and as a foundation course it doesn't count towards my final class of degree, which is how come I know what degree classification I'll graduate with :oD It certainly takes the pressure off, and I can be extremely proud of myself achieving what I have, and against the odds with my health.
Continuing with the education theme, I've had my official acceptance from Newcastle University onto the Post Graduate Certificate in creative writing - an unconditional offer after a glowing reference from my latest OU tutor :oD I'm a very happy bunny and looking forward to starting my post grad studies ... even though I'll simultaneously be finishing my undergraduate degree...
Now you may remember that some time ago I asked if it'd be possible for me to have pulmonary rehab at the Freeman. Initially the physio had agreed, but then they got scared off by my regular passing out, which is understandable I suppose. So then, feeling rather despondent, I asked my GP if he could help, but he was then pushed from pillar to post and apparently ended up writing to Dr H (asthma consultant) to see what he could do. Then at the beginning of last week I had an appointment with the physio at the Falls and Syncope Service at RVI to see if they could help with the imbalance I have due to the POTS. The physio here, L, was great (as all the staff at the F&S clinic have been in all of my contact with them) and she's given me some balance exercises to do. Anyway, while I was there I spoke to L about the pulmonary rehab and the reticence of physios not used to POTS (fair enough considering the rarity of it) to take me on, and also whether she thought it'd be reasonable for me to take part in pulmonary rehab. After my assessment with her L thought pulmonary rehab would be great for me, and said that she'd discuss it with Prof N (one of my POTS consultants - for some reason I have 2 in the same department!). The next day I had a call from L saying that she'd discussed the pulmonary rehab option with Prof N and she also thought it would be of great benefit to me. Prof N had written a letter to the physios at Freeman to put forward my case, whilst acknowledging the justification for their anxieties, and L said that I should hear from the Freeman shortly, but to get back in touch with her if I hadn't heard anything in three weeks time. Well, that afternoon I received a phone call from the physio at the Freeman offering me an appointment for my pre-pulmonary rehab assessment! L must have faxed the letter through to Freeman. I'm so pleased. I can't wait to start getting some level of fitness back, and to get my confidence with it back too. I'll keep you posted with how the assessment goes and what happens in pulmonary rehab.
It's three weeks today since I had my first cataract op, and things are now much more settled with it. I'm still surprised by the brightness of colours and the fact that things have actual edges! My sight is still lopsided as I've yet to have the second eye done, and also get new glasses, but already things are so much better than before the op and it's all very exciting :oD I have one more lot of eye drops to do at midnight tonight before I can stop being ruled by the clock and having to remember to take the drops with me if I go out (ensuring too that they're kept cold as they're supposed to be refrigerated), and then I have my follow-up appointment at the hospital on Thursday next week. Two days before this I have to go to the optician to have a post-op eye test so that the surgeon has something to work on at my clinic appointment, so that's all booked in for Tuesday. I'm still having problems reading and doing any kind of close work, which is very frustrating, but I know that'll be sorted when I get new glasses after my second op. In the meantime I'm enjoying already improved sight.
Oh, the other thing is that I've had the super duper ventilation system from EnviroVent installed. The bulk of the work was done on Monday with the BBC news reporter here too doing lots of filming and interviewing in the morning - he was here for almost three hours! He came back a couple of hours later to do a bit more filming and to interview one of the directors from EnviroVent who had come up from their head office in Harrogate. He was lovely, and actually the person who had seen me on the initial news item a few weeks ago, and thus instigated the whole thing with EnviroVent. It's so very generous of them, and while only time will tell if it helps my asthma, I can already feel an improvement in the level of humidity in my flat. The installation was finished off this afternoon, with the last of the boxing-in of the piping being done and the new fan in the kitchen. The engineer was brilliant, friendly, efficient, hard working, and an all round good guy :o) Both of us were on the telly on Monday evening on both the 6.30pm programme and the 10.30pm programme, and I learnt from a friend today who had a visit from her social worker yesterday that, as a result of my appearance on the telly, the local social services are going to review their provision of services for severe asthmatics. Apparently they weren't really aware of the impact that severe asthma can have on an individual, learnt a lot from the news report I was in, and consequently think that they're not doing enough for people with asthma. I think this is an amazing result and more than I could have hoped for from the report, so I'm now more than ecstatic that I agreed to put my insecurities aside and take part in the TV publicity.
Results all round!
Continuing with the education theme, I've had my official acceptance from Newcastle University onto the Post Graduate Certificate in creative writing - an unconditional offer after a glowing reference from my latest OU tutor :oD I'm a very happy bunny and looking forward to starting my post grad studies ... even though I'll simultaneously be finishing my undergraduate degree...
Now you may remember that some time ago I asked if it'd be possible for me to have pulmonary rehab at the Freeman. Initially the physio had agreed, but then they got scared off by my regular passing out, which is understandable I suppose. So then, feeling rather despondent, I asked my GP if he could help, but he was then pushed from pillar to post and apparently ended up writing to Dr H (asthma consultant) to see what he could do. Then at the beginning of last week I had an appointment with the physio at the Falls and Syncope Service at RVI to see if they could help with the imbalance I have due to the POTS. The physio here, L, was great (as all the staff at the F&S clinic have been in all of my contact with them) and she's given me some balance exercises to do. Anyway, while I was there I spoke to L about the pulmonary rehab and the reticence of physios not used to POTS (fair enough considering the rarity of it) to take me on, and also whether she thought it'd be reasonable for me to take part in pulmonary rehab. After my assessment with her L thought pulmonary rehab would be great for me, and said that she'd discuss it with Prof N (one of my POTS consultants - for some reason I have 2 in the same department!). The next day I had a call from L saying that she'd discussed the pulmonary rehab option with Prof N and she also thought it would be of great benefit to me. Prof N had written a letter to the physios at Freeman to put forward my case, whilst acknowledging the justification for their anxieties, and L said that I should hear from the Freeman shortly, but to get back in touch with her if I hadn't heard anything in three weeks time. Well, that afternoon I received a phone call from the physio at the Freeman offering me an appointment for my pre-pulmonary rehab assessment! L must have faxed the letter through to Freeman. I'm so pleased. I can't wait to start getting some level of fitness back, and to get my confidence with it back too. I'll keep you posted with how the assessment goes and what happens in pulmonary rehab.
It's three weeks today since I had my first cataract op, and things are now much more settled with it. I'm still surprised by the brightness of colours and the fact that things have actual edges! My sight is still lopsided as I've yet to have the second eye done, and also get new glasses, but already things are so much better than before the op and it's all very exciting :oD I have one more lot of eye drops to do at midnight tonight before I can stop being ruled by the clock and having to remember to take the drops with me if I go out (ensuring too that they're kept cold as they're supposed to be refrigerated), and then I have my follow-up appointment at the hospital on Thursday next week. Two days before this I have to go to the optician to have a post-op eye test so that the surgeon has something to work on at my clinic appointment, so that's all booked in for Tuesday. I'm still having problems reading and doing any kind of close work, which is very frustrating, but I know that'll be sorted when I get new glasses after my second op. In the meantime I'm enjoying already improved sight.
Oh, the other thing is that I've had the super duper ventilation system from EnviroVent installed. The bulk of the work was done on Monday with the BBC news reporter here too doing lots of filming and interviewing in the morning - he was here for almost three hours! He came back a couple of hours later to do a bit more filming and to interview one of the directors from EnviroVent who had come up from their head office in Harrogate. He was lovely, and actually the person who had seen me on the initial news item a few weeks ago, and thus instigated the whole thing with EnviroVent. It's so very generous of them, and while only time will tell if it helps my asthma, I can already feel an improvement in the level of humidity in my flat. The installation was finished off this afternoon, with the last of the boxing-in of the piping being done and the new fan in the kitchen. The engineer was brilliant, friendly, efficient, hard working, and an all round good guy :o) Both of us were on the telly on Monday evening on both the 6.30pm programme and the 10.30pm programme, and I learnt from a friend today who had a visit from her social worker yesterday that, as a result of my appearance on the telly, the local social services are going to review their provision of services for severe asthmatics. Apparently they weren't really aware of the impact that severe asthma can have on an individual, learnt a lot from the news report I was in, and consequently think that they're not doing enough for people with asthma. I think this is an amazing result and more than I could have hoped for from the report, so I'm now more than ecstatic that I agreed to put my insecurities aside and take part in the TV publicity.
Results all round!
Wednesday, 28 July 2010
I spy with my little eye
It's a week since I had my first cataract op and I'm doing okay :o) I had to be at the hospital for 8.30am and was told that I was near the beginning of the list, and then they suddenly realised that I'm MRSA positive (it's been in my notes all along so I don't know why they only just realised) so they moved me to the next door ward, put me in a cubicle, and moved me to the end of the surgery list :o( Consequently I didn't go into theatre until 11.50am. I was in for about half an hour, was taken back down to the ward, told I'd be able to go after 1 to 2 hours so long as my prescription was up. My prescription got lost and I didn't leave the hospital until gone 4.30pm. It was a loooooong day.
So how was it? Um ... okay I guess. It started with some kind of test done on the ward where the nurse numbed my eyes and then put a sensor wotnotthingumyjig (that's technical terminology) onto my eye ball that supposedly detects the strength of implant lens that the surgeon should put in once he's removed the lens with the cataract. It was odd being poked in the eye and not feeling anything, though I have no complaints that I couldn't feel anything! Then the nurse took my glasses away for another check on the implant lens that would be needed (I don't know why they needed to this and the 'poking me in the eye with a sensor wotnotthingumyjig' test), and while they were having whatever check was being done she brought a sample implant lens for me to see. The slight problem was that without my glasses, and with my pupil dilated, I couldn't see a sodding thing. Add to this the fact that the lens was supposedly tiny, transparent and floating somewhere in some clear liquid, the chances of me seeing it were slim to start with. After several times of the nurse trying to point it out to me, and my explaining that I couldn't see it without my glasses, I gave up, lied, and said, 'Oh yes, there it is. It is tiny, isn't it? Amazing.' The nurse seemed satisfied, and she went and got my glasses.
The op itself was weird. By the time I'd done all the waiting around to go up to theatre I thought I was more bored than nervous, but the surgeon had to remind me to breathe at one point. LOL I guess I'm so used to not breathing so well that when I get nervous and hold my breath I don't notice, but once the surgeon asked me to 'take some deep breaths and then just breathe normally,' I heard the beep of the oxygen saturation sensor was down in the lower range of things, but gradually rising as I took some breaths. I don't know what my sats went down to, but they had a little way to come up. I was fine though, and it wasn't anything to do with my asthma; just nerves.
So anyway, the op. It started with a sticky thing being put on my eye to keep my lashes out of the way and a brace being put in it to keep it open. Then a variety of drops were put into my eye, which made me jump every time they went in, although aside from a slight sting from one of them they didn't hurt. At first I could see all the things coming at me, despite the almost blinding theatre lights, but as more of the drops and then I think an injection were put in everything went misty, and then completely white. I thought about what my dad would say and knew he'd say it was interesting, so I concentrated on that thought, took it as my mantra for the whole op, and was thankful that my total blindness was only temporary. Apart from the white I could see the odd shapes that the theatre lights were now making - something akin to butterfly shapes, but with kind of holes in them - and vague, shadowy shapes of things near/in my eye. I could feel pressure at times, but there wasn't any pain, for which I am immensly thankful! And then the surgeon got the hoover out. That's not actually what it's called, but it's basically what it is. There was a lot of swirling in my eye, which I could see and that was very odd, and a weird 'sort of sensation' that I can't really describe, a lot of water dribbling down the side of my face, and a slightly disconcerting sucking sound. After the eye hoovering the synthetic lens was implanted, which I'm told is slipped in folded up and unfolded once it's inside the eye. How amazing is that?! It was another of those 'sort of sensation' moments, but fine. All done, patched up, and doing a fine impersonation of a pirate I was then ready to be taken back to the ward, where I had a lot of frustrated attempts at using my Nintendo DS, but without actually being able to see what I was doing. I had my glasses, but I couldn't get them on with the big patch and eye guard on my right eye bo) As the anaesthetic wore off my eye got very stingy, but I wasn't offered any pain killers so I waited until I got home. The patch had to stay on for the rest of the day and that night, but I could take it off the next day, and I now only have to wear the guard at night for the next week (having already worn it at night for a week), just to make sure that I don't rub it in the night. Mornings seem to be worse for swelling and bruising, but there hasn't been toooooo much of either. At first there was a lot of black and white flickering and it kind of looked like water was boiling in my eye, but that was just everything settling down. I'm still getting some flickering in the mornings, but mostly it's settling well bo)
I have to wait until I've had the left eye done before I can get a new prescription for my glasses - should be about 6 weeks till the second op, but no date yet - so it'll be a while till I get the full benefit of all this, but already I can tell a difference. For starters, I have the central vision back in my right eye! That's amazing! Everything's brighter. Colours are so vivid and vibrant! I hadn't notice how dulled colours had become, probably because the colour was leeched out of my world slowly as the cataracts developed, but now half the world is alive in a romp of colour again bo) And even though I'm yet to have my glasses prescription sorted, things already have more defined edges. The world is made of crystal, not frosted glass! Mind you, now that my right eye is done (the worst of the two) I see how bad the left eye is and I can hardly wait until both eyes are cataract-free and my glasses sorted. At the moment the world's a bit lopsided, but it's already a lot better than it was.
One of the temporary downsides is that I'm not allowed to drive for three weeks from the op - so I have another two weeks to go - and I'm feeling rather cooped up. Until both eyes are done then it seems that I won't be able to read or do any close work bo( I'm getting bored. I want to be doing cross-stitch and reading the novel I started shortly before the op, and I also have some reading to do in preparation for my next OU course. I've ordered some magnifying sheets from an online company but they haven't arrived yet. I'm okay using the computer as I can enlarge the text on the screen, but doing anything else much is proving very difficult and frustrating. The other thing is that I'm not allowed to get water in my eye for two weeks after the op, which isn't generally a problem except for when it comes to washing my hair. I don't have a shower, just a shower hose that attaches to the bath taps, but I can't easily use that backwards. My mum and step-dad stayed with me and looked after me from the day before the op until Sunday (and a marvellous job they did too!), so Mum helped me to wash my hair (leaning backwards over the side of the bath. That is, I was leaning backwards over the side of the bath, not Mum!) while she was here. Since Sunday though I've been to the hair dressers for a wash and blow dry, and have booked in for three more between now and next Wednesday, when I should be okay to do my hair myself again. I have to say that I was surprised at how expensive it is just to have a wash and blow dry (£13), so I'm just thinking of it as post-operative pampering ... or at least trying to.
All in all, it went okay. I was nervous, and it's not an experience I'd suggest putting on your 'Things To Do When Bored' list, but it's going to be fab when I've had both eyes done ... and when I don't have to put eye drops in four times a day ... or take other anitbiotics three times a day for the chest infection that I've managed to pick up along the way. Yes, another one! Still, on the bright side (that'll be the right side, now that the cataract from that eye is gone ;oP ), the driving restriction from the eye op is making me rest up, sofa surf and generally take things easy so my lungs might have more chance of clearing the infection.
So how was it? Um ... okay I guess. It started with some kind of test done on the ward where the nurse numbed my eyes and then put a sensor wotnotthingumyjig (that's technical terminology) onto my eye ball that supposedly detects the strength of implant lens that the surgeon should put in once he's removed the lens with the cataract. It was odd being poked in the eye and not feeling anything, though I have no complaints that I couldn't feel anything! Then the nurse took my glasses away for another check on the implant lens that would be needed (I don't know why they needed to this and the 'poking me in the eye with a sensor wotnotthingumyjig' test), and while they were having whatever check was being done she brought a sample implant lens for me to see. The slight problem was that without my glasses, and with my pupil dilated, I couldn't see a sodding thing. Add to this the fact that the lens was supposedly tiny, transparent and floating somewhere in some clear liquid, the chances of me seeing it were slim to start with. After several times of the nurse trying to point it out to me, and my explaining that I couldn't see it without my glasses, I gave up, lied, and said, 'Oh yes, there it is. It is tiny, isn't it? Amazing.' The nurse seemed satisfied, and she went and got my glasses.
The op itself was weird. By the time I'd done all the waiting around to go up to theatre I thought I was more bored than nervous, but the surgeon had to remind me to breathe at one point. LOL I guess I'm so used to not breathing so well that when I get nervous and hold my breath I don't notice, but once the surgeon asked me to 'take some deep breaths and then just breathe normally,' I heard the beep of the oxygen saturation sensor was down in the lower range of things, but gradually rising as I took some breaths. I don't know what my sats went down to, but they had a little way to come up. I was fine though, and it wasn't anything to do with my asthma; just nerves.
So anyway, the op. It started with a sticky thing being put on my eye to keep my lashes out of the way and a brace being put in it to keep it open. Then a variety of drops were put into my eye, which made me jump every time they went in, although aside from a slight sting from one of them they didn't hurt. At first I could see all the things coming at me, despite the almost blinding theatre lights, but as more of the drops and then I think an injection were put in everything went misty, and then completely white. I thought about what my dad would say and knew he'd say it was interesting, so I concentrated on that thought, took it as my mantra for the whole op, and was thankful that my total blindness was only temporary. Apart from the white I could see the odd shapes that the theatre lights were now making - something akin to butterfly shapes, but with kind of holes in them - and vague, shadowy shapes of things near/in my eye. I could feel pressure at times, but there wasn't any pain, for which I am immensly thankful! And then the surgeon got the hoover out. That's not actually what it's called, but it's basically what it is. There was a lot of swirling in my eye, which I could see and that was very odd, and a weird 'sort of sensation' that I can't really describe, a lot of water dribbling down the side of my face, and a slightly disconcerting sucking sound. After the eye hoovering the synthetic lens was implanted, which I'm told is slipped in folded up and unfolded once it's inside the eye. How amazing is that?! It was another of those 'sort of sensation' moments, but fine. All done, patched up, and doing a fine impersonation of a pirate I was then ready to be taken back to the ward, where I had a lot of frustrated attempts at using my Nintendo DS, but without actually being able to see what I was doing. I had my glasses, but I couldn't get them on with the big patch and eye guard on my right eye bo) As the anaesthetic wore off my eye got very stingy, but I wasn't offered any pain killers so I waited until I got home. The patch had to stay on for the rest of the day and that night, but I could take it off the next day, and I now only have to wear the guard at night for the next week (having already worn it at night for a week), just to make sure that I don't rub it in the night. Mornings seem to be worse for swelling and bruising, but there hasn't been toooooo much of either. At first there was a lot of black and white flickering and it kind of looked like water was boiling in my eye, but that was just everything settling down. I'm still getting some flickering in the mornings, but mostly it's settling well bo)
I have to wait until I've had the left eye done before I can get a new prescription for my glasses - should be about 6 weeks till the second op, but no date yet - so it'll be a while till I get the full benefit of all this, but already I can tell a difference. For starters, I have the central vision back in my right eye! That's amazing! Everything's brighter. Colours are so vivid and vibrant! I hadn't notice how dulled colours had become, probably because the colour was leeched out of my world slowly as the cataracts developed, but now half the world is alive in a romp of colour again bo) And even though I'm yet to have my glasses prescription sorted, things already have more defined edges. The world is made of crystal, not frosted glass! Mind you, now that my right eye is done (the worst of the two) I see how bad the left eye is and I can hardly wait until both eyes are cataract-free and my glasses sorted. At the moment the world's a bit lopsided, but it's already a lot better than it was.
One of the temporary downsides is that I'm not allowed to drive for three weeks from the op - so I have another two weeks to go - and I'm feeling rather cooped up. Until both eyes are done then it seems that I won't be able to read or do any close work bo( I'm getting bored. I want to be doing cross-stitch and reading the novel I started shortly before the op, and I also have some reading to do in preparation for my next OU course. I've ordered some magnifying sheets from an online company but they haven't arrived yet. I'm okay using the computer as I can enlarge the text on the screen, but doing anything else much is proving very difficult and frustrating. The other thing is that I'm not allowed to get water in my eye for two weeks after the op, which isn't generally a problem except for when it comes to washing my hair. I don't have a shower, just a shower hose that attaches to the bath taps, but I can't easily use that backwards. My mum and step-dad stayed with me and looked after me from the day before the op until Sunday (and a marvellous job they did too!), so Mum helped me to wash my hair (leaning backwards over the side of the bath. That is, I was leaning backwards over the side of the bath, not Mum!) while she was here. Since Sunday though I've been to the hair dressers for a wash and blow dry, and have booked in for three more between now and next Wednesday, when I should be okay to do my hair myself again. I have to say that I was surprised at how expensive it is just to have a wash and blow dry (£13), so I'm just thinking of it as post-operative pampering ... or at least trying to.
All in all, it went okay. I was nervous, and it's not an experience I'd suggest putting on your 'Things To Do When Bored' list, but it's going to be fab when I've had both eyes done ... and when I don't have to put eye drops in four times a day ... or take other anitbiotics three times a day for the chest infection that I've managed to pick up along the way. Yes, another one! Still, on the bright side (that'll be the right side, now that the cataract from that eye is gone ;oP ), the driving restriction from the eye op is making me rest up, sofa surf and generally take things easy so my lungs might have more chance of clearing the infection.
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