Here's the arse in Hi-ate-arse.
Only back 5 minutes and already with the questions. I feel like a newly evicted Survivor contestant. Patience dear ones, patience.
So... 3 months ago this was me...
It's a crap photo I know. But I really felt like crap so may as well look the part.
In early January, my right side decided it was having a hiatus of it's own and stopped working.
7 different doctors stuck various size needles and pins in my arm and leg over 2 days to try and see what was wrong.
Obviously the sticking of needles and pins is a highly scientific method known only to a few. Possibly passed down by inquisitors and torturers of old. I suspected leeches would be next however they decided to leap into the here and now and utilize some spiffy magnetic imaging.
This nasty beastie was discovered via MRI...
One cranky arse lesion that was trying to be fresh with my spine and my spine was having none of it. So squished spine + squished nerve roots = many, MANY days on Morphine. And... paralysis down the right side.
Here's the highlights of what followed:-
2 pulmonary embolisms. The first of which nearly took me out of the game as it turns out and was caused by, (as put by one of the 7 doctors hereafter labelled McArsehole), me 'just lying there and not getting up and walking around'.
Guess he forgot why he admitted me in the first place. I forgave him quickly though. Poor fellow... he asked a quadraplegic in the bed opposite me to stand up so he could take her blood pressure. Not exactly confidence inspiring!
The emboli meant they couldn't go in and fix the problem. The 1st embolism felt like the entire cast of The Biggest Loser were sitting on my chest however another one of the 7 doctors, (hereafter labelled McNasty), said it was probably nothing more than an anxiety attack.
That is until he tried that fab medical imaging thingy again and oops! "You have a clot the size of Africa in your lung". Listening To Your Patients 101 clearly isn't taught in halls of medical learning anymore.
So... 3 weeks in one hospital, 2 weeks in a physical rehab hospital and 6 weeks of home care later and I'm back. Ok so I walk a little like Quasimodo now and should be ringing a bell and shouting 'Bring Out Ya Dead!' everywhere I go but I'm still here.
I have to give uber-thanks to Nat of Rock the Kazbah for completely turning her life upside down to come stay with us and look after me for my first 2 weeks home.
Sloppy kisses also go to the very thoughtful Anne-Nicole & Sean, Dad & Linda and Dr D. for taking me out and about whilst I wasn't allowed to drive and relieving my hideous cabin fever.
Thanks also to L & B of Burnt Offerings for the mention in their blog. Thank you. Your prayers were appreciated.
My driver's licence was, ahem, downgraded to a Learner Driver's Permit! Which while humiliating in the extreme, could well explain the lower road incidents report for that period. But I'm back on the road now too so watch your butts!
Hmmm... I've just realised how chunky I've drawn my neck in that poor excuse for a diagram.
Should've just hired Mr Squiggle instead.
So... 3 months ago this was me...
It's a crap photo I know. But I really felt like crap so may as well look the part.
In early January, my right side decided it was having a hiatus of it's own and stopped working.
7 different doctors stuck various size needles and pins in my arm and leg over 2 days to try and see what was wrong.
Obviously the sticking of needles and pins is a highly scientific method known only to a few. Possibly passed down by inquisitors and torturers of old. I suspected leeches would be next however they decided to leap into the here and now and utilize some spiffy magnetic imaging.
This nasty beastie was discovered via MRI...
One cranky arse lesion that was trying to be fresh with my spine and my spine was having none of it. So squished spine + squished nerve roots = many, MANY days on Morphine. And... paralysis down the right side.
Here's the highlights of what followed:-
2 pulmonary embolisms. The first of which nearly took me out of the game as it turns out and was caused by, (as put by one of the 7 doctors hereafter labelled McArsehole), me 'just lying there and not getting up and walking around'.
Guess he forgot why he admitted me in the first place. I forgave him quickly though. Poor fellow... he asked a quadraplegic in the bed opposite me to stand up so he could take her blood pressure. Not exactly confidence inspiring!
The emboli meant they couldn't go in and fix the problem. The 1st embolism felt like the entire cast of The Biggest Loser were sitting on my chest however another one of the 7 doctors, (hereafter labelled McNasty), said it was probably nothing more than an anxiety attack.
That is until he tried that fab medical imaging thingy again and oops! "You have a clot the size of Africa in your lung". Listening To Your Patients 101 clearly isn't taught in halls of medical learning anymore.
So... 3 weeks in one hospital, 2 weeks in a physical rehab hospital and 6 weeks of home care later and I'm back. Ok so I walk a little like Quasimodo now and should be ringing a bell and shouting 'Bring Out Ya Dead!' everywhere I go but I'm still here.
I have to give uber-thanks to Nat of Rock the Kazbah for completely turning her life upside down to come stay with us and look after me for my first 2 weeks home.
Sloppy kisses also go to the very thoughtful Anne-Nicole & Sean, Dad & Linda and Dr D. for taking me out and about whilst I wasn't allowed to drive and relieving my hideous cabin fever.
Thanks also to L & B of Burnt Offerings for the mention in their blog. Thank you. Your prayers were appreciated.
My driver's licence was, ahem, downgraded to a Learner Driver's Permit! Which while humiliating in the extreme, could well explain the lower road incidents report for that period. But I'm back on the road now too so watch your butts!
Hmmm... I've just realised how chunky I've drawn my neck in that poor excuse for a diagram.
Should've just hired Mr Squiggle instead.
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