Angiogram

Young Ambo

Ok, today you should be pleased to finally read about the young man. The ambulance guy who was standing at the end of my bed seeing me in all my naked splendour. I warn you I’ve already over sold it.

The day after my Angio, was a Friday. I had my regular Friday carer who had conveniently been there the morning and afternoon before. I had spent a on and off sleepless night. I had, had my phone on my bed just in case. It was completely flat despite it having been on charge.

We compared notes, Ms Friday frustrated I’d been allowed to shower. I had a shower and we carefully peeled off the clear film-like Band-Aid that covered the wound site. It was more she let me do it while she directed. It’s fine, she was following things to the law and was aware any involvement if things went wrong, she could be liable. It’s always the right time to make a joke I’m not going to die and who would sue her?

She assessed the wound and decided it had a tiny spot of blood. she rang Nurse on call, by this stage I was cold and tired so as I was dry just wanted to hurry up and get back in bed. Obviously, Ms Friday above and beyond the call of duty had called an ambulance as the nurse on call had been unsure how serious the situation was.

I remember the questions they had asked her to be along the lines of, was I obese? Did I overeat? I could not help her communicate the finer points or the short version.

It goes like this –

“Female. 53. Has an AVM, right sided. Complete left-sided hemianopia. Yesterday, had a cerebral angiogram. Was Phenerganed, cannot emphasize that enough. Can not moderate temperature, small amount of blood spotting on the site of the Angio and she had been putting pressure on it while we had been waiting.

Again, I’ve unpacked some things there I’d not yet mentioned. But here we are. I’ll do it better next time.

OK, I’ll try.

I was responsive but non-verbal. I was aware of everything as I saw in my blind spot on my left a young woman watching me and at the end of my bed was an equally young man. When I suggest “young” I mean maybe thirty? And that’s pushing it. They both looked younger. As I recall thinking I’m cold and tired, can we just move this along. I used the back of my had to wave towards the site at the top of my right leg. No words. Just the hand motion.

Thankfully, I did not need to go back to hospital, and many discussions have been had with Ms Friday about this event and with my other carers that note how by the book she is. I’m just suggesting it’s nice to have carers that give a fuck. I remember thinking this young man has not seen enough naked bodies to be seeing mine.

I had discussed with Ms Friday the lack of covering for my modesty requirements. She said she had covered my breasts, or” Girls” as I prefer. They are not great at this age and lying down, but they were not what I was most concerned about.

I’m having laser treatments in the last few years has meant I can no longer make statements along the lines of It’s a jungle down there, but what remains was a bit hectic. (I’ve wanted to put that sentence in a blog post for a while now.)

You’re welcome.

A few anecdotes still get mentioned months later that will live on forever. Once my carer had seen me delivered to the nurse and assisted me out of my clothes and into the terrible paper pants. She said they were delightful. Anything that threatens to fall off the last time you get to pee is never delightful. Just saying. I needed a hit of lip balm, was not trying to impress anybody, just perimenopausal and always dehydrated. With my upcoming Angio usually means stop drinking. Girl Friday, is it too late to go with G.F.? dispatched to the chemist to return with lip balm. And this brilliant story. On her return she had found herself walking down a hallway behind who she described as a surgeon. Who farted? As he walked down the entire hallway. No shame, no embarrassment, no, I should take this anywhere else to do it in private. Just nonstop farting, down the hallway. Gold! Pure gold! Best story ever for me to go into my Angio with. Carers really bring the good stuff is what I’m saying.

I remember during all these moments at some point, even likely after my first shower, and potentially after the paramedics attending to me, I was in the bathroom standing looking at myself in the mirror naked. Don’t imagine that it’s not as good as it sounds. Self-depreciation much. and seeing how many white and blue sticky things stuck to my chest. Meanwhile wondering, how long have they been there? I took them off and put them in the bathroom hand basin. the number was considerable. I did take photos, but you are not ready. It is for the amusement of few and never.

You know the sticky things older men like to show off on their chests after a minor angina attack? Chest pumped out like they are still hot and twenty. Now we need to pity them because they have suffered. Yeah, note women don’t do this.

Torture Part 1 a

Torture Part 1

There are some posts I put off writing, I’ve had this on simmer in the back of my mind for years and as usual, there are a million ways to address this one. It kinda follows one about the Neuro Angiogram, of which I’ve had two, of and I hated. And ironically, I’ve had two of these also and I hated both of these also.

Angiogram

Firstly, I should premise by saying 2011 was a rough year. Let me start by saying the issues started a few years earlier, but I didn’t piece everything together until sometime later.

2011 problem

By 2011, I had been living one handed for a few years, being fiercely independent and with the ability to keep doing some things one handed. With the encouragement of my physio and OT, I kept doing “things” one handed, ie) lifting a 10kg bag of kitty litter and taking it from the front door to the back door, so it took pressure off the boyfriend. (Yeah! I know, I had one.) Helen now don’t got one. I’ll get to that, it’s on the list.

Kitty Litter

Now, where was I?

On the 6^th January that year, I lifted my small suitcase from the floor to my bed. It was full of my laptop, hard drives and other tech stuff and I didn’t want my mother to lift it, so I did it. In hindsight, that was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Suitcase

Weird things started to happen like, it hurt to sit, but not my “butt” I had shooting pain down my right leg. Reminder; my right leg is my good leg, really don’t need anything going wrong with my good leg. I couldn’t sit on the couch in the evenings and watch TV.

Pain in the butt

Trips to my GP, had new medication added to my diet. I think we started with muscle relaxants.

DID NOT HELP!

Can’t recall now, what medications followed that, but I started getting Ultrasounds to my legs and other things.

What felt like forever, later we found what worked. The Silver bullet came in the form of Oxy and what I refer to as ‘Oxy, Oxy and Oxy.’

Oxy Oxy Oxy

Slow release, short release and don’t bother me with that because it’s just not going to help.

Oh yeah, eventually the diagnosis was a disc bulge and another crappy side-effect. I felt I needed to pee. All the time and of course if you have ever been on any serious Opiates, you know you have the added trauma of Constipation. Super!

Constipation

So, as part of the process to get better, is medication. Some people can walk it off and it just gets better. Some people require surgery, but while brain surgeons (Nuero Surgeons) do brains and backs, they prioritise brain.

Brain surgery

Now my happy place that year was lying on my bed, my laptop now lived on my bed so, I just spent more time there. My happy place with Opiates, was 20mg of Oxy Contin during the day and 10mg at night. If I had to go out, I would take 5mg of Oxy norm, it works fairly quickly, but gives you only three hours of taking the edge off.

Lying in bed

I caught the taxi to my local appointments, because I struggled to even scooter to them.

My ‘shrink’ I saw over the phone, paying using online banking. I saw my GP while lying down on his bed, you know, that table thingy? So, saying all of this, it was a long year.

Shrink on phone