Monday, 5 March 2012

Weeeeeeeee, tubes and pricks

Apologies followers for my crapness - bad blogger I have been. I am currently writing this from the "comfort" of a hospital bed in Windsor. Now actually I shouldn't complain as 10 days ago I would have been writing from an even less comfortable hospital bed in Slough. They call it the private wing but it still had issues. My lovely little Windsor hospital is far nicer and I am sitting in my own room with Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaben on in the background having just had my night time hot chocolate!
Why am I here may be the natural question that I perhaps ought to answer. For once in the last almost 3 years it isn't directly related to the evilness. I've been battling with some back pain recently which naturally I convinced myself was going to mean that the evilness had decided to munch at my bones. Anyway then I started to feel like utter shite with a cracking temperature. I was merrily in the process of trying to fry my brain - a past time that is not really recommended if you wish to maintain a teeny bit of intelligence and bodily function. So off to the GP I went. When will I learn that this is a foolish exercise? Had I chosen to forget that I was told for a year that I had gastroenteritis when in fact the evilness was invading my bowel? Seemingly so. Note to self - do not frequent the GP surgery, do not pass go, do not collect £200.
I digress. So she thought I had a kidney infection and put me on crappy trimethoprim - for those in the know ,rather old school. 48h later I didn't want to leave my bed, had become a prune and so it was time to see the real people - off to the evilness doctor I went and promptly had my pruney knuckles rapped for not coming in sooner and for having gone to the GP. OOPS!
Short version is I was admitted and onto iv fluids, given my dear friend iv cyclizine for the nausea - which my friends, I love as apart from stopping me feeling like hell, sends me totally off my face! I have been known in A&E to have slurred to Darrell after a hit, that I was "off my tits!" when not 10 minutes earlier was turning myself inside out into a delightful cardboard emesis basin. This time it was also blended rather warmly with a shot of pethidine. Bloody brilliant! I just lay there grinning like a loon. I am a big fan of the drugs!
24 hours later, an 11pm consult and ultrasound by my urologist (I like to collect consultants you see!) it was decided that my ureteral stent was blocked and I had pyelonephritis. I was then transferred from my lovely Windsor haven to scummy Slough so that my lovely radiologist could play around with more mind altering drugs and give me a nephrostomy ASAP. It seems that a few more hours delay could be critical. FUCK. I really was rather ill. There was scary talk of sepsis and horrid consequences which naturally I chose to stick my fingers in my ears and say lalalalala and ignore!
So there I was with a tube sticking out of my back draining some really rather grim stuff out of my right kidney. On seeing that it's hardly surprising I have felt like hell. I also added 3 different iv antibiotics to the mix and then just to tick another box, a blood transfusion. Two units of finest A+ gently meandered it's way into my veins. Weird thought that it's someone else's blood. Makes you think weird things. Will I be different after? Was it a man's blood? What if they can't spell or have crap grammar? Will my use of the apostrophe be wronged forever? Whatever the result thank you to the amazing person or people that took the time to donate. You rock.
Home I was sent with the tube in place and the indignity of carrying a bag of pee around with me for the next 7 days. Mind you it does create some fun each morning when I get to observe my day-glo, post-Berocca production mooching it's way down the tube, looking like I had some sort of renal nuclear reaction.
And so here I am today. The plan was to hopefully remove the stent and also the pee tube and bag combo. And once again stupid me forgets that things generally don't follow the aforementioned plan. So I woke from another drug induced fog - amusingly as observing the 3rd drug entering my vein whilst the anaesthetist was telling me some story about horses that I never got to the end of, I said Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee as I drifted away into my benzo-opioid-propofol induced snooze. Classy!
I woke up and the bloody pee tube is still there. Seems I still need a stent so my crusty blocked one was taken out and a fresh new one is now settling into to its home for the next 6 months. Arse. And so pee tube is there just in case stent doesn't behave. And instead of going home and snoozing happily in my own bed without having to turn over carefully for fear of pee tube exiting my back, I'm here in my sweaty hospital bed with pee tube staring back at me, having to pee in a dish so they can measure my "output". Dignity? Really? Paper pants sorted that out earlier today - especially when I woke up after the drug snooze with them cut open! Man I should have done a spot of lady garden tending in anticipation of flashing my bits to all and sundry.
Tomorrow will bring another visit to lovely radiologist for him to check stent has read the rule book and is doing what it says on the tin, and to blast me with more X-rays. Don't X-rays cause cancer? Mm bit late for that eh? No doubt lovely radiologist will ask me about his puppy's leg issues - he has the last 2 times I have seen him before altering my recollection of reality with more drugs! However alas tomorrow is a drug free exercise. Shame as I'm quite enjoying all the pickling of my brain and the warm and fuzzies that are a bonus with the poly-pharmacy. I feel like a bit of a junkie really! Silver lining and all that.
So that's me. A stenotic ureter and we don't know why. Found incidentally on an MRI, and was minding its own business until they spotted it. Now the treatment for it is causing me more issues than the original problem. Gotta laugh at the stupidity of it all really!

In other news, me and hubby have decided that sitting around and stagnating is not an option and put our house on the market. It is our first home together but to be honest we have not had the best of times since being there (one dead dog and 2 cancer diagnoses will do that for you) and it was never meant to be our forever home. So move on we shall. We had a buyer for it 10 days after it went on the market and today had an offer accepted on a place. Eek! Fingers crossed all moves smoothly and quickly. Time for a new start and a new beginning - 30 miles nearer to the pastie Mecca.

Talking of which whilst I was battling with kidney stupidness, my oldest bestest friend gave birth to her son, who after many days of deliberating shall be henceforth known as Hector (bloody brilliant name by the way). I am thrilled for her but the irony wasn't lost on me that I was there worrying that the evilness had come back and she was bringing a new life into the world. The one thing I wish for myself more than anything. Don't get me wrong, he is gorgeous and I am so happy that I get to be a fab auntie again. Funny how two people who met at their first Saturday jobs, 23 years ago, who both married 40-something year old divorcees, have now got lives going in very different directions. It goes without saying that my dear friend the green eyed monster has been voicing his opinions over the last few days. He is quite well behaved mostly and sits quietly in the corner but every so often he jumps into the middle of the room and ruins the party. I don't mind when he sits there dribbling quiety, but when he starts lighting his farts and shouting in my face, he is just damn annoying. However I can't really control his behaviour so I just have to try and ignore him as I suspect he isn't leaving the party anytime soon given the lack of contraception that my friends seem to be partaking in.

I guess I should go now as it won't be long before it is imperative that I am woken to check my "vitals" which will be normal as I was meant to be at home now. Deep breathe otherwise my BP will be up and then they will panic!