April 10, 2024
It’s just not very nice.
I thought I’d written in February or March but it seems not. Not that there is much to report – I paid a tonne of money to get the chassis/skeleton of the Smart fixed/repaired/rebuilt and it still failed the MOT so Mark emptied everything out the engine bay and rebuilt the blinking thing and changed the hamsters and elastic bands and it then passed. Phew.
Holiday was lovely and warm and sunny and just what you want from a holiday. I was stressing a bit too much about my car to fully switch off and on the first night in America I had some news which totally messed with my brain and left me overthinking considerably. I need to work on this over thinking habit. It’s not healthy and it’s not positive for my being.
And after holiday I really struggled. Everything was just too … Too loud, too bright, too colourful, too itchy, too wet, too muddy, too many, too much, just too …
So I totally withdrew into myself, It was the only way I could cope. I stopped reading, sewing, crafting, anything more than functioning really. I have taken myself away from everyone and everything. I can pretend no longer because everything was just too overwhelming.
I’m not out of this stupid status yet. By no stretch but I’m trying each day to challenge the overwhelming-ness and fight back. So I’ve started reading again which is lovely. I am forcing myself to stay around when there’s a client meeting at work – even though I don’t contribute or do more than hide – and I’ve promised my brain I will try and do something social by the end of the month.
What doesn’t help is this botox break. I was due to be poisoned in early March and because I’ve had this treatment for a year now, I have to have a break to prove it’s been working. Oh heck yes it was working. April has been the most evil month of the year and it’s only a week and a bit old. My headache diary is full of notes and tear stains and I had truly forgotten what pre-botox me coped with. I’m currently on day 9 of a cluster headache that Just. Won’t. Go. I considered sticking my head in a log splitter at the weekend just for a different sort of pain. The headaches are physically and emotionally incapacitating. I’m not functioning at work very well, I’m not wanting anything more that dark, soft, silent with cats. I am cycling through all the tricks I learnt before – eye masks, pressure points, pillow sprays, headache balms and drugs. I also emailed the lovely nurses and asked for some tips.
June 3rd. That’s all I’ve got to aim for. Two o’clock on June 3rd. Botox Monday again.
January 18, 2024
Bah blah resolutions smevolutions
I guess in the interests of being honest and getting support from y’all, I should share my goals and aims and motivations for 2024. I don’t like resolutions or the word because it implies so much pressure and forced standards. Maybe the word could be removed from society and instead everyone just says ‘I’m going to be a better human being this year by not doing this or trying to do more of that’
So my targets for this year are fairly standard.
* Spend as little as possible so I’m not cluttering my surroundings.
* Sort out what I’ve already got (clothes/books/crafting stuff) and make the most of them.
* See a real life mole.
* Keep losing weight until the diabetic nurse is happy.
* Craft more with what resources I have. Sell or gift the stuff I make. No new hobbies!
* Stop being upset about being on my own so much, learn to love my own company and be content with doing free stuff like reading, crafting, housework, sorting the boxes of doom, gardening, litter-picking, writing happy post and notes.
* Get off social media (specifically facebook but keep twitter) blog more instead.
* Stop worrying about others’ opinions or lifestyles. I am me, I cannot be anyone else and start recognising my physical capabilities rather than being upset by what I ‘can’t do’ in comparison.
* I want to be less dependent upon hubby to have a social life, I need to find things I can do on my own or have friends be willing to do ’em with me or be happier to hermit.
* I’d like to go to a live rugby match again as I miss it massively.
* I’d like a cheeky win at Cheltenham Race Week.
* I want more solo theatre.
Making more of Olio has been fun. I made butter out of cream which went in the freezer and I’ve processed veg for freezing too. It all helps
Last week I had my carpal tunnel jabs (as you know) and it didn’t quite go to plan. Unfortunately, between wrists, the doctor went to put the cap on the syringe and the needle stuck him through the cap. Cue much paperwork and drama and me needing to go back for blood tests to ensure I hadn’t poisoned him and all sorts. Not fun. He’s since rung me to say I don’t have any blood based nasties that I was tested for which is a relief. He is also referring me to the hand surgeons at Worcester to see if they’ll actually operate on the CP rather than just surviving on jabs.
But we are half way through the month finally. Only another 800 or so days to go until February!
January 9, 2024
Send positivity.
At 11.30am I’m having my carpal tunnel jabs. I desperately want them, need them really, but they’re so ouchy that I’m gonna have huge regret for the first three hours or so.
if you have any spare, send positive thoughts please.
December 11, 2023
Bonne Anniversaire Botox Mondays!
Last week I had my latest botox session. I don’t enjoy these 37 injections in my face, scalp, neck and shoulders but after the initial horrid few days, it is life changing. It turned out that Tuesday was my one year anniversary and so to celebrate, the lovely syringe-wielding Steph told me I had to have a break. Oh no. Not at this time of year, no, no, no.
We had a chat. I might have begged a bit. We bonded over mums dying at Christmastime. She said I could be stabbed this time but I have to not have it in March. I kinda hoped that a break was maybe a month or a few weeks. Nope, a whole three months break. So I’m going from December, skipping March and counting the days until early June. She has said if I’m verging on the edge of murder, I can email her with proof and she’ll try and see me sooner but there’s no guarantee she’d be able to squeeze me in.
You. Have. Been. Warned.
And then, as if going to the QE Birmingham once wasn’t enough, we then returned on the Tuesday to see the miserable MaxFax man. He isn’t cheerful atall. I had an MRI in the summer which has shown my jaw joint has deteriorated and some fluid has gotten in the joint and making the wear worse (brain fluid maybe?) and explains a fair bit – like I can’t bite doughnuts – and needs sorting.
He’s gonna write to himself at a different hospital (oooh, fancy) and book me in for an operation. Because I can’t open my jaw very far, they can’t do the operation from inside my mouth so they’re gonna drill through the side of my head and get in that way. Sounds a bit frankenstein bolt like really but if it means I can get my mouth around stuff and eat crunchy things I don’t care what they do.
I’ve also managed to get on my GP’s minor op list for my carpal tunnel injections. But alas, not until January 9th. I’ve asked if I can be considered for a short notice appt but like all CT peeps, I can’t imagine giving up an injection date.
So 2024 is less needles for starters but more needles and an operation at some point. Woop woop.
I’ve tried to craft and sell bits. People are still wary about spending, so little bits sell well but freestanding birds do not. Shame as I think they have way more character in them but everyone feels these economic pressures differently and not everyone wants a £22 Blue Tit!
March 29, 2023
Feet pics
So if you don’t wanna see dried blood, scabs, stitches, marker pen and what not, do not look any further. You have been warned. Twice.
This was last time, the summer of 2018
Then this was this year’s adventures:-
Thankfully, not pregnant but I had to do a test to make sure….. Fifteen years of sterilisation not proof enough, eh?
Having confirmed not up the duff, lots of marker pen was applied with a note about which toe was the most icky.
Then it was all wrapped up so my foot went from a delicate size 5 to a size 13
I wasn’t coping very well, but Diesel was determined to provide excellent cat care.
Bit confused as to why I needed a plaster having not had a cast first time but I was excited to have messages written in sharpie as I’ve never broken a bone to have that experience before.
Feet are icky enough without the added decoration of blood stained stitches with added bruising and two weeks of dirt.
Can be reassured that removing the stitches doesn’t make my foot any more pretty.
And to finish, a ‘pins eye view’ of the utter disgustingness of my foot. I had scrubbed it with antibacterial kitchen wipes by now, the bruising and holes will go eventually they say. But how am I supposed to PROTECT THE PIN when there’s nowt there?!?!?!
Feet are gross
Yesterday we went back to Warwick for the first follow up.
Traffic there was terrible, I kept seeing single magpies and was dreading the appointment
Of course, we couldn’t find a parking space, so he ended up dropping me off and then parking away in a side street somewhere. Probably a god job considering how squeemish he is.
Now. I thought I was seeing my surgeon and he was gonna remove the bandages with a ta dah! florish and then stick a new pile on and tell me witty stories whilst unravelling the stitches.
Nope.
Was taken from outpatients to the ‘fracture clinic’ with a ‘plaster request form’ … ohmydays.
Eventually, I got taken into a room with a little girl who can’t have been much more than two. She had broken her arm and was in for a colourful cast. She made less noise and fuss than I did. Cringe.
The lovely nursing team chopped the bandages away, I guess they can’t really be recycled and then produced a massive blade thing and blue tweezers (which I was gonna ask if I could keep b’cs they’re the plastic ones we use for mealworm feeding but I chickened out) and just got to work. Ouch, ouch and more ouch.
Then a surgeon bloke came in, said it looked okay and I wasn’t to get it wet, I wasn’t to put any weight on it and I wasn’t to knock the pin. I assume he was a surgeon, he was in green and everyone else was in blue around me.
Great. But I don’t have a new bandage!!! I just have a little plaster on it, not even a pretty one.
I took photos of course. But I’ve been told I shouldn’t just load them for peeps who are squeemish or nervous. So I might do a new blog post called ‘feet pics’ and you can look or not look.
Journey home was less dramatic but I didn’t feel great. Got home, chucked up and then slept for 6 hours.
I’ve been relying on the magic of chocolate buttons to keep me sane these last few days. Just six of an evening, made into three flying saucer shapes, fit perfectly in the roof of my mouth and last forever. But there was no way I was having chocolate buttons yesterday. Gutted.
Going back in two weeks for hopefully pin removal. Except they’d rather it stayed for 6 weeks from operation and that falls right into the middle of our holiday and the man in green said that’s not ideal. If I get an infection or bang it whilst away, they can’t promise to fix it when we get back. So now I’m stressing that if it comes out before, at 4 weeks post-op, it won’t have fused or healed or fixed the issue.
My brain is a bit of a mess. My foot is icky and gross and I’ve got a pin sticking out the end of it. Anyway, pics next.
March 16, 2023
A tale of two cysts
I was quite pleased with that title actually!
So a few years ago, well, mid-June 2018 actually I had a cyst removed from a toe. I was sedated and local anaesthetic was pumped in and this cyst dug out. They apparently ground off the bone spurs that cause the cysts and it was never to return again.
Except it did. Instead of growing up the top of my toe, it grew out the side and partly on the scar tissue which caused real itchiness and pain. It would get rubbed on shoes and swell and pop and get infected then I’d have antibiotics with their own lovely side effects and repeat. Ugh.
The doctor would pop and drain and inject steroids which was supposed to stop it coming back but it didn’t work. And the wonderful NHS rules state this has to happened three times before you can be referred to operating peeps.
I had a really quick consultant meeting in January at Warwick and he was like ‘yep, it needs to come out’ and sent me to pre-op straight away to get that bit sorted early. And then the date roulette started ……….
The surgeon I was assigned to was on long term sick and decided he didn’t want to come back on the date I was first booked in. So I was moved and he then decided he wanted to do knees not feet. And then they couldn’t do an afternoon session. Honestly it was like hearing how someone hadn’t handed in their homework.
Three dates later I finally made it to day surgery reception and through to check-in and gowning up. I didn’t quite want to believe it until I was drawn on.
The operation was being done this time under local anaesthetic and no sedation for ‘speediness’ – basically with sedation I’d need to stay in longer, more aftercare blah blah blah. Local meant done, out, dressed and go home.
Local also meant ‘oh it’s not that serious, you don’t need post-op pain meds’
The plan to dig out the cyst again was fine. There was a reserve plan of a ‘just in case’ which would be grinding back bone again and the very extreme possibility of fusing the toe joint. They didn’t expect this latter bit.
Of course. It happened.
I’m on a bed, awake, hearing EVERYTHING. I see knives, iodine, drills, hammers, the whole flipping tool set, a dirty great big cupboard full of machinery. Yes, they chopped my dinky toe open and then dug the cyst out. Ground the bone away and then started drilling. And another drill. And another, And then a meter long wire and blinking great big hammer. It was not fun. I’ve never had anything done at the dentists, never had a filling or things like that, so the noise was a shock. The pressure, the post-op bruises, the violence of it all ohmydays.
Paracetamol was going to be enough apparently. And on tuesday morning, at 8am I entered the receptionist roulette of phone calls to beg my GP for some actual pain relief.
There is a wire sticking out of my foot. There is a bandage that makes my foot look the size of a watermelon. I am not allowed to get it wet. I am not allowed to put weight through my foot. I have to keep my foot elevated as much as possible. I have stitches out in two weeks and the wire out after that. The surgeon wanted 6 weeks but we go away on April 16th so I need that out sooner. And then I need to learn to walk again. On holiday.
I am grumpy. I am so blinking sore. I am very rubbish at sitting still.
September 8, 2022
The headache clinic rang
Back in February of this year, the 21st to be precise, I had a phone call with the headache neurologist; Dr Sinclair. He said the waiting list was super long for botox and he was putting me forward for a CGRP treatment plan.
CGRP are neuropeptides. Or monoclonal antibodies. Whichever term you pick, it’s magic goo that I inject myself every month for six months to make the chronic migraines go away.
Or so I thought.
I got the letter on Tuesday for a telephone appointment today. Except I’m temping this week so that’s a tad tricky. Thankfully I sorted phone cover with the lads and managed to take the call.
Which lasted four questions.
Turns out that my lack of circulation and known Reynauds means I’m not eligible for CGRP. And the nurse acknowledges this should have been picked up before today. That I should have gone onto the botox list back in February.
Not gonna lie, I cried. That poor woman couldn’t do anything.
Eventually, she found a slot in her botox clinic and has somehow managed to over-ride the system and get me in for Monday 5th December at 9am. So yey for an appointment. Not so yey for getting to the QE in Birmingham that early in the day!
So maybe, just maybe, after three years of waiting and being off my head meds, I might get some relief. After the 32 injections in my head and neck have worn off …….. eeek!
June 22, 2022
Covid Day 11
Wednesday. One week on from hubby testing negative. I had a couple of meetings in the diary so I needed to test too.
FINALLY.
Just finally.
No, I don’t feel ‘better’ yet. I’m still shattered, still unable to taste or smell, still struggling with the aches and sore eyes and nausea. But today, I can gloss over all that because I finally have a negative test. FINALLY.
My 11am meeting was super important. So very pivotal to my future plans. I can’t say anything until its official but it went well and I’m hopeful I can share the news soon. We all need something cheerful to read on here.
Enjoy the sunshine people, it’s going to rain on Friday. Keep washing your hands and no close contact with randomers. Rules.
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