Still searching

I arrived back home to London at the end of November and after some routine blood tests had found that my liver was out of whack. Cue a lot of hospital visits and a heap of frustration because its been 5 months and the doctors still haven’t figured out what’s going on with my health!

I’ve come to the conclusion that I am just broken and for my birthday am going to ask for a brand new body. We’ve made huge advances medically, a new body isn’t too much to ask for, right?

I’ve also come to the conclusion that when doctors say “this may be uncomfortable” they are lying. Uncomfortable means “this is going to be painful, chances are extremely painful, but we’ll let you find that one out on your own”

However I did have an extremely honest doctor for my liver biopsy and when the nurse said “this may be uncomfortable” he then laughed and said “Well we don’t know that for sure, I mean I haven’t had the procedure personally”

Oh its all fun and games when you’re on the other side holding the largest needle-type-contraption I have ever seen in my life, isn’t it doctor?

It hurts by the way. I felt winded and then promptly sick, which I suppose in fairness is normal, after all you’ve just taken 3 tiny pieces of liver out of my body.

Endoscopy. At first I thought it was a welcome change to all the colonoscopies I’ve had in the past.

Once more I was proven wrong. Drowsy and confused from the sedation, the doctor moved the scope at an angle that I started to choke and retch on the camera. Hazily I heard the nurse say “Almost there, you’re doing so well”

Lady… take the scope out of my mouth. I am dribbling so much despite your little suction thingy, that the side of my face is now wet, I’m clearly trying to swallow but can’t because I have a camera down my throat, please do not try to encourage me to keep going, just take the camera out.

MRI contrast exam. WHAT THE FUCK IS IN THAT LIQUID? Seriously? and why do I have to drink so much of it on an empty stomach?

I have a sensitive palate, anything that I don’t like to taste, will make me gag. Same with smells, its really annoying. And yet I had to drink this large bottle of  disgusting liquid in the space of 45 minutes. I thought I’d sip it… nope… it made me gag… I thought I’d try to chug it… nope I was very nearly sick everywhere.

Luckily after I somehow managed to drink it, all I had to do was lie in the MRI and just listen to noises that made me feel like I was in a spaceship. Which isn’t actually that helpful because I want to laugh at the ridiculous scenario I am in, but you can’t because they’re taking pictures of my insides.

Still no news on what’s happening, I need to have another endoscopy because they want to see further into my small bowl. Joyous.

I’ll keep you all posted on my delightful hospital adventures.

Till then, stay well and happy x

Keep on going

Motivation.

Noun
The reason or reasons one has for acting or behaving in a particular way.
The general desire or willingness of someone to do something.

What to do when this magical word evades you? I wish I had the answer. I’ve been a bit poorly recently, migraines, tummy pains and this weird thing where my arms and legs keep going numb/pins and needles.

A visit to the doctor is most definitely needed but when you’re a traveller with no stable address it can be a little tricky.

Continue reading…

Freaky Friday

Stumbling to the bathroom I am aware of how large my stomach feels despite the fact I have not eaten yet.
Mouth is dry, head feels like cotton wool. Its like a hangover but without the booze or the fun of the previous evening.
I sit on the toilet trying to wake up, realising that I’ve only clocked about 4 hours sleep I yawn sleepily and am disturbed to feel a sharp pain shoot up my left side.
Feeling suddenly awake, I feel a deep spasm and a wave of nausea hit me. Grabbing the side of the radiator, I gingerly stand and breathe deeply until the spasm passes.

Opening my eyes everything’s a tad hazy, and I realise I’m on my back staring at the ceiling. Fab. I’ve passed out.
Slowly getting up I go downstairs and wake up the boy

“Baby, I’m going to the hospital”,

Considering he’s been trying to get me to hospital a good few days before this, I would have thought he would have been a bit more enthusiastic. Instead I am met with a grumble of it being early and that we should go later.

Sighing, I call a taxi and inform work that I will not be making an appearance today.
Waking the boy again, he is disgruntled but happy that I am finally making my way to the hospital.

After the initial wait in a&e, which for once doesn’t take that long, I am asked to put a gown on and pee into a pot.

My pee is decidedly shy when asked to make an appearance and I spend at least 15 minutes trying to coax it out and inevitably pee on my hand. The moment I have excruciatingly filled the pot, I pee like a normal person instead of a dribble, my bladder laughing at me.

I conclude that all my organs hate me.

Abdominal xray and a chat with a doctor who clearly hasn’t a clue what an internal J Pouch is. Once again I feel like I should carry a diagram of what my operation entails and what my insides look like.
More waiting, some sleeping, 2 nurses try to take blood but its not happening, I’m pricked with needles four times and my blood just isn’t playing nice.
Fifth times a charm apparently, but even then they have to wiggle the needle to get the tubes filled.

I get told I’m going to a ward and I start to get upset. I hate staying in hospitals and every time they put me on a ward I end up staying for a prolonged period of time.
“We’re taking you up to page ward”
And I burst into tears.
Weirdly this time last year I was in hospital for a flare of UC and I ended up having an emergency operation.
What ward was I on? Page.
Tears are streaming now and I’m panicking, No ones told me what’s wrong with my pouch and I’m so scared.
The boy manages to calm me down and the nurses are lovely.
Fluids are hooked up and a chest xray is booked.

A surgical doctor sees me, I’m grateful for the understanding.
After examining me the doctor books an ultrasound stating that it might not be the pouch that is causing the initial problem.

After hours of waiting and several scans later I am told the reason for my pain is, the dreaded cyst.
The little sod has grown and brought some friends. I now have a 10mm cyst on my right ovary and 2 4mm cysts on both ovaries.

I am thankfully sent home with some amazing pain killers. These bad boys have me so drugged I’m just smiling at the world and dreaming of bunnies and unicorns.

So. I will now have a load of appointments to a) determine the outcome of the cysts b) sort out my antibiotics for my pouch c) maybe see my old gastro doctor for some help to live without the antibiotics.

Works going to love me, but as my mum and the boy said, my health comes first at the end of the day. I’ve always been really nervous about what work will say as I don’t want to cause a fuss. But hey, its not like I inflicted this upon myself so I’m afraid I’m just going to have to suck it up and get on with it.

I’ve been having days where I am super pissed off at life. I’m barely surviving let alone living, and I’m deeply annoyed at how I just can’t seem to catch a break.

4 months. I have 4 months to put up with it all and then I’m off to Australia. I just really hope my body settles down before then, my insurance is already sky high, the last thing I need is to get to Australia and be sick there too!

Keep your fingers crossed for me guys. I so desperately want to get better!