Personal, Weekly Round-Ups

And Then I Broke A Bit Again

…because this is how these things go. One day I’m swimming for three quarters of an hour, pounding laps up and down the pool, walking home in the light mist of rain under the orange glow of the street lamps, climbing the stairs to my flat, winding down with a book for the evening, getting into bed feeling almost well.

And then the next day I wake up and my ribs are aching and I taste blood in the back of my throat, and it feels like there is acid coursing through my veins. On the way up the stairs from my bedroom I stumble into the wall and have to rest there for a moment, because seven steps is just too many to be able to climb in one go. I try to work, of course, because I am me and that is what I do, but ultimately I have to admit defeat and pull a blanket around my shivering skin and curl up on the sofa.

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Personal, Weekly Round-Ups

The Week I Went Swimming Again

Finally, things are starting to stabilise. Rather than having no energy at all, I have a teensy bit of energy, which lets me do about one thing requiring exertion per day, unless I am having a Particularly Bad Day, in which case no things are done.

That’s much better than being able to do one thing per week, though.

The doctors have said I can try doing a bit of exercise again, and as someone who normally swims every day, the fact that they recommended swimming was highly pleasing.

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Personal, Weekly Round-Ups

The Week I Got My Brain Back

Last week’s post left off just as I was about to go into hospital to find out when they’d be booking me in for surgery. I had been hoping that it might be fairly soon, since I’m apparently an urgent case and I’ve barely been able to leave the house in months, but hope is a treacherous and flighty beast, and of course things didn’t go quite so smoothly.

The waiting list for surgery is 4-6 months long; the minimum amount of time in which I’ll be booked for surgery is four months. Then there’s an eight-week recovery period, so basically whatever happens I’m essentially taking the rest of the year off.

They can’t push me up the list unless my Angry Internal Organs actually rupture, which made me start wishing they would, until I remembered that would have irritating potential side effects like involuntary sudden death. So I figured maybe I’ll obey the doctor’s instructions and not do anything to make this whole situation any more precarious, and look after my Angry Organs, and hopefully maintain this tenuous truce for as long as I can.

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Personal, Weekly Round-Ups

This Week’s Round-Up Is Brought To You With Maybe A Tiny Glimmer Of Hope…

…she says, just waiting for it to be obliterated.

Last week’s post ended with me about to call the hospital and insist that they give me an appointment. According to the NHS website, the maximum waiting time for non-urgent procedures is 18 weeks. I was first seen on the 9th of March, and have been told several times since then that my case is an urgent one, and yet still I have no date for surgery.

I don’t blame the NHS for this. I’m a lefty, so I blame the Tories.

But regardless of who’s to blame, the fact is that the whole thing hasn’t exactly run smoothly. The week before last I was slotted in for an emergency endoscopy after the hospital forgot to send me an actual appointment, and then they were trying to make me wait until the 31st of July for the results appointment, which had originally been scheduled for the 19th of June. Some more digging around on the NHS website uncovered that, if the hospital cancels at the last minute for a non-clinical reason or otherwise messes up your appointment, they’re required to give you a new one within 18 days.

Armed with this information, last Monday I called the hospital.

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Personal, Weekly Round-Ups

This Week’s Round-Up Is Brought To You By Sunshine And Frustration

Last Monday was incredibly hot. It was also the day I had to go to hospital to have a tube shoved down my throat, so I wasn’t allowed to drink (or eat, but I don’t do that anyway atm) before my appointment.

The BFF came with me because I needed someone to take me home after sedation. Naturally, the clinic was running two hours late, so we sat in the inadequately air conditioned waiting room until 6pm, at which point I was finally called through.

I went in and sat on the little chair. The doctor looked a bit confused. She kept clicking different things on her screen and frowning.

I decided this was probably not a good sign.

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Personal, Weekly Round-Ups

The Return of the Weekly Round-Up

As we all know, I’ve been offline a lot lately, and work hasn’t exactly been as busy as it normally is, due to my organs rebelling against their allocated tasks and rising up in a kind of painful internal revolution.

I’m not blogging as often either, mainly because my brain feels like it’s made of cotton wool that’s been drenched in chloroform. But it’s looking like this whole situation is going to be dragging on for fucking ages, and so I’ve decided to return to doing a round-up post once a week on this blog, for four reasons:

  1. There’s generally one day a week when I feel vaguely alive.
  2. I’d like to keep some kind of blog activity going.
  3. While I’m not able to do anywhere near as much as usual, I am still getting some stuff done. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that because of the amount of time I’m currently spending lying on the sofa watching Netflix, but I think it’d be good to reassure myself that I am still living my life, albeit in slo-mo.
  4. People keep asking me for updates on how I am and what condition my health is in, and it’s exhausting to have the same conversation 46 times, so if you want updates, you now know where to get them.

So, without further ado, the round-up of the last week or so.

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Personal

A Year Of Celebrations

I was a little scared of 2016, for entirely superstitious reasons that make no sense. The worst two years of my life to date have been 1996 and 2006, during both of which I had brushes with death that were less like brushes and more like full-blown fights.

2015 was a good year, following an awful one in 2013 and a half-half one in 2014, so my brain naturally decided to tell me that this meant 2016 had to be completely awful. And the year did get off to a bit of a stressful start, it’s true. But over the past couple of days I’ve realised that I have a lot of causes for celebration this year.

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