Skip navigation

Hey all…
I was hoping my next verbal purge would be another exciting misadventure through these fine foreign lands I am blessed enough to be currently calling home, and in fairness, we have been getting out and about to a few wee little villages which are simply breathtaking and entirely postcard worthy, but alas,
The return of the medical melancholy sees me writing a few notes today on the rapid down hill slide of the old bod… again…
And this time, I must truly confess, I actually am scared… so I guess for once, this blog is more a record of sorts. A record for future me, when I am fit and healthy again, to see just how hard I fought to get out of this awful slump and back into the land of the living.
A record for my amazing, long-suffering husband, who I am sure is at his wits end with how to support me, but is more amazing and more loved than he could ever realise… and for my two little beams of sunshine who fill my day, my world, with laughter, meaning and purpose…
So here I am…
on the other side of the world… a land with so much promise and opportunity… but a medical system that if you’re not born into it, is somewhat impossible to navigate, fighting off the demons of my three pronged medical monster…
Firstly, let’s face it… I am 31 weeks pregnant.
For anyone who has ever made it this far into pregnancy, or known someone who has, you would be aware that growing tiny humans is exhausting and takes great tolls on your body. As such, I come to you pre- exhausted and hormonally certifiably insane.
Let’s just put that out there. I am nuts. My head is not actually under my control, but is being savagely driven by some great hormonal emperor with its own agenda…
Thus, any melt downs I have wherein should be specifically addressed to the chief of hormones and not in fact my sane, rational self…
The second prong of this devil’s health fork is the kidneys and the roller coaster ride from hell earlier this pregnancy that saw me hospitalised twice… unbeknownst to me at the time, pretty severely ill… it is only now, in retrospect and with research I am beginning to get an inkling of just how sick I was… and articles on my Facebook newsfeed about the 44,000 people who died from sepsis ( that my dear kidneys nicely gave me) last year here in the u.k really do bring home the message.
The aftermath of this kidney show down is the stent. Gah! The God awful piece of plastic between my kidney and my bladder. The little straw that was brutally thrust inside me whilst I was still semi awake… that makes me wee like a champion ( because you know, you don’t wee enough during pregnancy already and all that), that despite the daily excruciation that comes with every wee, despite the blood each time… well, this bastard little blue piece of plastic effectively saved my life and is what keeps me alive. It’s job is to stop further kidney mishaps and prevent further bouts of sepsis…
so hate it and complain about it as much as I might… and let’s face it, I am a whinger and I do, that God awful curly blue plastic is in fact a legend. I am still standing because of it… and the amazing dr who knew to put it in there. ( thus again, moving far away from said amazing Dr has indeed brought some drawbacks… as this new medical system has fobbed me off and laughed off the intended medical plan that was meant to be taking place…) but, that’s just one hurdle. We can mope, but we can cope with one hurdle. The fact remains… if I endure the pain through to the end of this pregnancy, at some point they still have to remove the darn thing, even in this new system that’s still going to happen. And god forbid I lapse back into sepsis and the kidneys give way again… without a small person growing within, surely they can act quicker and more aggressively to patch me up and get to the actual ( and as yet unknown) root cause of the problem…
But the reason for my whoa is me attitude today is the return of the third thorn in my side, the ulcerative colitis, which came from nowhere last year, flattened me and sent me to hospital and on the crazy roller coaster ride of insane medications…
this bastard of a disease is insane. It is an auto immune disease that struck me down out of nowhere, causing my own guts to turn warrior on themselves and attack themselves. With it comes severe abdominal pain, hours trapped in the bathroom and my least favourite symptom, the one that has returned this weekend, toilet bowls that could easily feature on the most gory episode of CSI.
This level of blood loss in turn makes the iron levels plummet at an alarming rate… ( alas, they’re already low thanks to baby and stent) and with the steep descent of the iron comes the return of the God awful anaemia… the dizzy spells, the buzzy lights in front of my eyes and consequential blurred vision, the crazy tiredness, the crankiness and my least favourite, the passing out. This third kick to the guts in my health trifecta really has pushed my optimism out the door and brought with it the return of whinging, sulking and desperately feeling sorry for myself. Like seriously… what on earth have I done to my body for it to hate me quite this much?? And amidst it all, all I can do is put eyes on the prize… the ten week goal post and just trying to muddle through until this small person within comes to meet us… I just need to maintain enough strength to make it to the finish line. To protect this precious life and make the best decisions in a crap situation to keep both me and the jellybean as safe as I can… but with that, the drawing realisation… I have to survive labor!! Cue freaked out nightmares…
thus, today, armed only with fear and frustration, I am back to the GP to plea my case. To demand that they start to take this seriously before it becomes a disaster… the system here works on politeneness and letter writing… but today it is up to me to convince the GP that the time for politeness has passed and now is the time for immediate action. Who knows what these next few weeks will throw at us… I have a hunch I am in for one heck of a ride…
thanks for enduring my vent. Here’s hoping my campaign today is met with success and indeed the next verbal purging is to regale more crazy misadventures… or possibly introduce to the next member of our little family. I am trying to remain positive… although, right now, I think the doom and gloom attitude may serve me well in my quest to get taken serious for medical intervention? Love and hugs all round!
You’re all amazing!
L

Advertisements

2 Comments

  1. Hey Loz,
    I’m so sorry to hear your health is struggling again. It’s your turn to have a break and have things go your way for a change. Is there anyway they can take Bub early. Tess was 6 weeks early and look at her now. Then they can start treating you sooner to help with pain etc. I hope they can do something for both of you so you can get on with things. Please keep us updated and I hope things improve soon. All our love and huge hugs coming your way xxx

    • Thanks Hun. Step one is to get them to take me seriously… so fingers crossed today’S GP visit yields positive results… after that??!! Who knows!! Will have to see what the medical gods decide!! Huge hugs coming back your way!!


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: