It has been tough this pneumonia. Not what i thought it would be like. Lots of morphine to try to deal with the pain, and I have lost a bit of weight when I wasn't able to eat. So, there I was thinking I had it good. But it could have been better. I had a week at home on stong pills, followed by 3 weeks in the Marsden Hospital on an IV. That seemed to manage the problem, and then after a lot of begging on my part, they allowed me home. Having been in large wards for so long, my house seemed very small. Now a few more weeks later I am at the computer, but still not fully recovered yet. Been told all sorts of news about my cancer. It has spread to my bones, and has struck on my spine, so am worried about the cord and paralysis. I have continual pins and needles, and it is reckoned to be this. Anyway, two weeks later they have changed their minds, and I am alright again. I don't know what's going on anymore. I do know that today was a good day, and that yesterday wasn't. Don't know why though. I can't push myself about in my wheelchair, so Quick sketch & I might not be able to go to the rugby any more. It's too cold for all that sitting around outside. No good for your lungs. Can't drive either. But I did notice the sun was around for a bit longer this afternoon, which means the winter is starting to bugger off. I might be able to venture out soon.....if i can scrounge a lift from some kind soul.
Going to bed now, get tired very easily these days. Goodnight.
Thursday 4 February 2010
Wednesday 23 December 2009
It's not a competition you know!
Well Quick Sketch, having read your latest blog it felt it had all the drama of a BBC play. Rather than comment on it by way of a somewhat short and merciless attempt at humour I thought I might make it a more central comment by using this blog as the means, and anyway nothing much has happened this week to me so your news is better than mine.
And so you live Sherlock Holmes, despite the poison I your arch enemy Moriarty, had laced your coffee with. Once mixed with seasonal curry following on from dancing and the celebration of another Yuletide having passed, the poison was slow acting and designed like Polonium, to take days to effect the nervous system, or at least until another badly written BBC play was over. As a back up, I asked an unemployed man with an out of date tray of Cadbury's chocolates to flip the switch for the power in your particular block. This was the fiendish part of the operation, because it had to be done when you were lying down or else you would not feel the effects.So that meant putting a camera in your smoke alarm. You had to have all your back up power disabled, even though many months ago I, Moriarty, in the guise of Bas the friendly Christian non-murderer, had advised in your very own blog for a back up to the Bi-pap, I knew you were taking a risk by relying on a jobsworth from the Leccie Board to do his job and fix the power problem, and that the ambulance crew despatched to you ( that's what they call it nowadays when they are sent to your house )don't have the technical training to carry out running repairs on an electric blanket. A difficult man to kill, rather like J.Bond, that's what you are. But don't think that's the end, there will be other attempts on your life, so you had better be prepared and have an independent generator parked up outside your block chained to a lamppost ready for Polly to quickly fill it with diesel and fire it up.
That's that, micky taking over. Well done for beating this one. Breathing is something that is fundamentally and essentially important for you to do.People reading this who have always been able to do it without trouble won't realise how bad it feels when you can't do it. Could this new disabled block across the road from you incorporate storage for a bi-pap back up unit.
I had a very nice lady from the hospice come to see me today. Quite wore me out and I slept when she went. Big, in a tall slim way, Chris had come round and helped to get our rug clean and when I woke it was clean and he had gone too. Hospice talk is particularly intense and I wouldn't want to chat about it for a job. I got a bit bored after a little while, I'm not someone to tip toe around, but of course they don't know that if it's the first time they have met me.I see it more as booking into a good star hotel, where I get my own dispensing doctor who will stop me getting sore and help me to sleep. I want a decent view, but not worried about parking services or a pool. I won't need TV but will want music, softly in the background, and food is not really an issue either. If I can get it down, then I will have food, if not then not. I definitely don't want Quick Sketch's old BI-Pap breathing machine when he throws it out, and I want to reserve my room for June in twenty years time. If you are positive enough and plan to defeat every fiendish plot laid against you, then why shouldn't you suceed.Until next time, careful with the coins in the Xmas pudding!
And so you live Sherlock Holmes, despite the poison I your arch enemy Moriarty, had laced your coffee with. Once mixed with seasonal curry following on from dancing and the celebration of another Yuletide having passed, the poison was slow acting and designed like Polonium, to take days to effect the nervous system, or at least until another badly written BBC play was over. As a back up, I asked an unemployed man with an out of date tray of Cadbury's chocolates to flip the switch for the power in your particular block. This was the fiendish part of the operation, because it had to be done when you were lying down or else you would not feel the effects.So that meant putting a camera in your smoke alarm. You had to have all your back up power disabled, even though many months ago I, Moriarty, in the guise of Bas the friendly Christian non-murderer, had advised in your very own blog for a back up to the Bi-pap, I knew you were taking a risk by relying on a jobsworth from the Leccie Board to do his job and fix the power problem, and that the ambulance crew despatched to you ( that's what they call it nowadays when they are sent to your house )don't have the technical training to carry out running repairs on an electric blanket. A difficult man to kill, rather like J.Bond, that's what you are. But don't think that's the end, there will be other attempts on your life, so you had better be prepared and have an independent generator parked up outside your block chained to a lamppost ready for Polly to quickly fill it with diesel and fire it up.
That's that, micky taking over. Well done for beating this one. Breathing is something that is fundamentally and essentially important for you to do.People reading this who have always been able to do it without trouble won't realise how bad it feels when you can't do it. Could this new disabled block across the road from you incorporate storage for a bi-pap back up unit.
I had a very nice lady from the hospice come to see me today. Quite wore me out and I slept when she went. Big, in a tall slim way, Chris had come round and helped to get our rug clean and when I woke it was clean and he had gone too. Hospice talk is particularly intense and I wouldn't want to chat about it for a job. I got a bit bored after a little while, I'm not someone to tip toe around, but of course they don't know that if it's the first time they have met me.I see it more as booking into a good star hotel, where I get my own dispensing doctor who will stop me getting sore and help me to sleep. I want a decent view, but not worried about parking services or a pool. I won't need TV but will want music, softly in the background, and food is not really an issue either. If I can get it down, then I will have food, if not then not. I definitely don't want Quick Sketch's old BI-Pap breathing machine when he throws it out, and I want to reserve my room for June in twenty years time. If you are positive enough and plan to defeat every fiendish plot laid against you, then why shouldn't you suceed.Until next time, careful with the coins in the Xmas pudding!
Saturday 19 December 2009
Octopus
Another day sat around in a hospital. Nearly said wasted but it wasn't. Saw Maddie F_Smith in the IV suite and she nearly found a vein for me, but I apparently send them into spasms so they are difficult to locate.
I have been feeling up and then down this last week. Mostly asleep, but then I have wakeful surges when I feel strongly that I should do something but cannot summon the energy to achieve anything. I am very concious that Christmas approaches and for the second year running I haven't been able to get out to choose presents for my family.So they have chosen for themselves.
My house cannot get warm enough for my lungs right night now, and I go to bed freezing and wake up in the early hours really cold too. A discussion is raging right now about the positive and negatives of an electric blanket, and Melanie feels that because of her hot flushes it is better for me to be a bit cold than for her to get a tiny bit extra hot. I can see that this might end in separate beds, but I don't want to go down that path. Hot water bottles are not right as they touch her during the night, and cause her to wake up being attacked by an octopus. I insist on the heating being left on 24 hours a day, so the octopus should have dried up at night.
I now have enough morphine to last for a few weeks, and am hoping that I have the pain under control soon. Need to get this under control before the rugby starts, as Quick Sketch and I are off to watch grown men get injured at Twickenham.(Confirmation just came through) I am looking forward to being well enough to go out, and he is looking forward to being driven about by a world class driver......well, perhaps not, perhaps he is looking forward to seeing the Great Irish men of the age triumphing over the weak and puny Englishmen of the age. Either way, it will be a good day out and something to look forward to other than hospitals and being accused of raising octopus during the day just to torment her at night.
Saturday 12 December 2009
A torrid day giving out orders
My friends, it has been a good day. I have lain on my settee counting how many cups of sweet tea I can drink in an hour, whilst watching a match of varying interest on the TV. I have been doing this is preparation for tonight's bonanza of Cheryl Cole on her own with Will I. Am and then after that X Factor which starts soon.
I have an issue with Americans coming over here and telling us that we have got their name wrong. The former chief of Defence Col. Powell had obviously heard we call nerds Colin, so he became Coelin Powell, just to avoid being called a nerd name. The same goes with this US rapper Will.I. Am. His real name is William and he is a Black Eyed Pea, but oh no he won't have that, hence we now are likely to have the Reverend. Will.I. Am and other's such named like Prince William being renamed in the future. You might see them objecting at first but it won't last long.
My chest has been sort of ok. I haven't done too much, despite the doctor at the hospital on Monday telling me I should do deep breathing and twisting and generally things in keeping with sweeping the leaves up off my driveway. I think she is someone I will ignore from now on although she wasn't American, probably Hungarian from the surname I recall. Lots of Magyar s riding across the steppes and conquering illness. Hasn't sorted out mine yet though.
Big Chris came round and took my tree down from the roof, and Mel and the girls have spent the rest of the afternoon putting it together. It looks great but could do with a lighter fairy on the top branch, not that I'm picky. I have just rolled over and sat at the PC, to write this. It's hard when you don't do much. So shall I just stop? That would be like being called William and giving in without a struggle so I shan't.
All wood has now left the driveway, and it means the garden looks smart again. birds are still tapping at the glass, I haven't been out to feed them yet, need another week before I will be up to that. Although it is hard to guess these things. It might be a year before this goes away, especially as the Dr I.saw at the Marsden yesterday ( Dr Isore-did you get it? probably not- you need to be taking Morphine to understand me these days) said it was a serious pneumonia that I was suffering from, and there was a good chance I could drag this out for months from a sympathy level. Horah! I might be number one in the sympathy charts again before too long. Did I tell you I nearly didn't make it back to the car yesterday? No, it was brill. A brand new Phlebotomy practioner had a go at getting blood out of me 3 times and failed because I have been hiding my veins again. So I wobbled along to surgery, lay down there on a table that folds flat and then had a chat before wobbling out to the car. Mel likes to ask me a lot of detailed questions when I feel faint and sick, and so I made a break for it up the hill while she paid in the car park. I didn't make it, and she was back with me before I reached the car, and asking lots of questions. I drove out the car park with my head out the window and a mouthful of salty saliva, which I recognise as about to throw up but nothing to do with being drunk. An unusual experience for me. But I managed to get out of the hospital without talking or opening my douche and am now called Basil.Will.You.Answer.Me.
I have an issue with Americans coming over here and telling us that we have got their name wrong. The former chief of Defence Col. Powell had obviously heard we call nerds Colin, so he became Coelin Powell, just to avoid being called a nerd name. The same goes with this US rapper Will.I. Am. His real name is William and he is a Black Eyed Pea, but oh no he won't have that, hence we now are likely to have the Reverend. Will.I. Am and other's such named like Prince William being renamed in the future. You might see them objecting at first but it won't last long.
My chest has been sort of ok. I haven't done too much, despite the doctor at the hospital on Monday telling me I should do deep breathing and twisting and generally things in keeping with sweeping the leaves up off my driveway. I think she is someone I will ignore from now on although she wasn't American, probably Hungarian from the surname I recall. Lots of Magyar s riding across the steppes and conquering illness. Hasn't sorted out mine yet though.
Big Chris came round and took my tree down from the roof, and Mel and the girls have spent the rest of the afternoon putting it together. It looks great but could do with a lighter fairy on the top branch, not that I'm picky. I have just rolled over and sat at the PC, to write this. It's hard when you don't do much. So shall I just stop? That would be like being called William and giving in without a struggle so I shan't.
All wood has now left the driveway, and it means the garden looks smart again. birds are still tapping at the glass, I haven't been out to feed them yet, need another week before I will be up to that. Although it is hard to guess these things. It might be a year before this goes away, especially as the Dr I.saw at the Marsden yesterday ( Dr Isore-did you get it? probably not- you need to be taking Morphine to understand me these days) said it was a serious pneumonia that I was suffering from, and there was a good chance I could drag this out for months from a sympathy level. Horah! I might be number one in the sympathy charts again before too long. Did I tell you I nearly didn't make it back to the car yesterday? No, it was brill. A brand new Phlebotomy practioner had a go at getting blood out of me 3 times and failed because I have been hiding my veins again. So I wobbled along to surgery, lay down there on a table that folds flat and then had a chat before wobbling out to the car. Mel likes to ask me a lot of detailed questions when I feel faint and sick, and so I made a break for it up the hill while she paid in the car park. I didn't make it, and she was back with me before I reached the car, and asking lots of questions. I drove out the car park with my head out the window and a mouthful of salty saliva, which I recognise as about to throw up but nothing to do with being drunk. An unusual experience for me. But I managed to get out of the hospital without talking or opening my douche and am now called Basil.Will.You.Answer.Me.
Wednesday 9 December 2009
Keep fit campaign for eagles
I awoke early this morning, at around 5am, swallowed a bit of liquid morphine and crashed out until 930am. I then felt raring to go and wanted to see what my physical limitations were. Was I still able to bench press a lot of weight( lifted a 3kg bag of coffee beans once ), do sprint reps with someone of equal weight on my back, and swim 400m in the pool in less than 5 minutes. Well, I thought I might try to find out.
I quickly got dressed, not bothering with a shower as I had one last week, and slowly went downstairs, put on a fleece and then I was off out into the back garden. I felt free of constraints and soon drove my car forward 10 feet to to enable me to get at some of the tools and equipment that are located in the far corner of the garage. I pulled out a 6lb sledge hammer, almost the lightest sledge hammer you can buy, and tapped a copper pipe into the ground. Then I had to raise said hammer fairly high, and clout the pipe a bit harder. It was my plan to use it as a hole in which to drop the bolt when opening the side gate.After that I tried to sweep the driveway clear of leaves until I felt all woozy, and thought I might well collapse on the garage floor. It must have been the recent rain has made the leaves heavier. It occurred to me that Mel wouldn't come to find me, as she doesn't like it out in the garden, so I could be there for some time, struggling to breath. I was gulping huge mouthfuls of air when I heard her join me. Can you sweep up the leaves for me, I asked. I then got some light bulbs and took the step ladder indoors to change some of the 6 lights that had gone out whilst I had been away. Six of them. What have they been doing to blow six of them? Must have been a good party. I was determined to get as many jobs done as I could this morning before I died.
Did that, then covered the wooden garden furniture ready for the winter squalls and went to fill the bird feeders, all six of them being empty now that there isn't a bird lover in residence whilst I was away. But I couldn't do it. Totally exhausted by my efforts, or rather Melanie's efforts and my supervisory skills. So the birds will wait until the morning, when I am up from my morphine induced slumbers. Who knows, I might see eagles and flamingo's in my garden.For the first time, although I do know people who reckon they get parakeets in theirs. As if!
I still had to put the car away and the effort of walking out and getting into it was almost too much for me. I might still be able to carry Melanie on my back to the bird feeders tomorrow so mustn't despair. I shall keep up this fitness regime until it kills me, I am only 48 and you wouldn't know it to look at me would you.
I quickly got dressed, not bothering with a shower as I had one last week, and slowly went downstairs, put on a fleece and then I was off out into the back garden. I felt free of constraints and soon drove my car forward 10 feet to to enable me to get at some of the tools and equipment that are located in the far corner of the garage. I pulled out a 6lb sledge hammer, almost the lightest sledge hammer you can buy, and tapped a copper pipe into the ground. Then I had to raise said hammer fairly high, and clout the pipe a bit harder. It was my plan to use it as a hole in which to drop the bolt when opening the side gate.After that I tried to sweep the driveway clear of leaves until I felt all woozy, and thought I might well collapse on the garage floor. It must have been the recent rain has made the leaves heavier. It occurred to me that Mel wouldn't come to find me, as she doesn't like it out in the garden, so I could be there for some time, struggling to breath. I was gulping huge mouthfuls of air when I heard her join me. Can you sweep up the leaves for me, I asked. I then got some light bulbs and took the step ladder indoors to change some of the 6 lights that had gone out whilst I had been away. Six of them. What have they been doing to blow six of them? Must have been a good party. I was determined to get as many jobs done as I could this morning before I died.
Did that, then covered the wooden garden furniture ready for the winter squalls and went to fill the bird feeders, all six of them being empty now that there isn't a bird lover in residence whilst I was away. But I couldn't do it. Totally exhausted by my efforts, or rather Melanie's efforts and my supervisory skills. So the birds will wait until the morning, when I am up from my morphine induced slumbers. Who knows, I might see eagles and flamingo's in my garden.For the first time, although I do know people who reckon they get parakeets in theirs. As if!
I still had to put the car away and the effort of walking out and getting into it was almost too much for me. I might still be able to carry Melanie on my back to the bird feeders tomorrow so mustn't despair. I shall keep up this fitness regime until it kills me, I am only 48 and you wouldn't know it to look at me would you.
Tuesday 8 December 2009
Still got the looks
Now I am home after 3 weeks of IV antibiotics, and being kept under control by four hourly doses of Morphine designed to prevent me running around the hospital ward with pencils up my nostrils, I can tell you that it wasn't all fun. My problem is that I can't really remember if things happened or not over the first two weeks. I do remember that my vicar, William, appearing at my bedside and telling me wonderful news about Rosanna Connelly, how her aggressive leukaemia has miraculously disappeared. For a 16 year old girl to have been struck down with this was awful, and it is such a positive thing to happen that I confess I did shed a few tears over this wonderful news. William can come round any time he has news like that, but not if he is just going to talk about his latest sermon, now that I have Morphine I know how to deal with it.
I was dosed up that week so have had to check with Gabriella if it was correct, and it was.
I am pretty sure that one quiet Sunday afternoon a male doctor came in to see me, pulled the curtains and declared that I "looked a million dollars". Well, I didn't know what he meant by this so I told Melanie and she suggested he might be gay, and I was looking particularly windswept that afternoon. They could have done all sorts to me in hospital and I wouldn't have had a clue. Did it really happen, probably not, but it is nice to think you can still be attractive even when you are virtually a junkie.
I'm off back to the syringe now, hope this wasn't too long for those of you with very short attention spans; Roger and Karen, we know who you are.( Blogs are meant to be read one at a time, not the previous 3 months all in one hit)
I was dosed up that week so have had to check with Gabriella if it was correct, and it was.
I am pretty sure that one quiet Sunday afternoon a male doctor came in to see me, pulled the curtains and declared that I "looked a million dollars". Well, I didn't know what he meant by this so I told Melanie and she suggested he might be gay, and I was looking particularly windswept that afternoon. They could have done all sorts to me in hospital and I wouldn't have had a clue. Did it really happen, probably not, but it is nice to think you can still be attractive even when you are virtually a junkie.
I'm off back to the syringe now, hope this wasn't too long for those of you with very short attention spans; Roger and Karen, we know who you are.( Blogs are meant to be read one at a time, not the previous 3 months all in one hit)
Thursday 12 November 2009
I Told You I Wasn't Well
I have been looking forward to using the tome from Spike Milligan's headstone. Does anyone know if it does actually say that on it or is it an urban myth. I'm not going all the way across London to find out because as I said, I am ill.
I was thinking of putting in the title " Author struck down with Pneumonia " but that is probably a bit too dramatic for my blog. Truth is a have a lung infection, which is the P word, but I only have it in a certain section of my rt lung. I have to say that I am mightily relieved because I had it down for something a lot worse that it turned out. I was going for the 'that's it, no point in planning for Christmas' option. It never works out how I think it is going to, and I have dropped the moniker of "Lucky" from my name. I don't suppose all the recent outside events has done me much good, but you only live once and I did enjoy them.
So how did it go, I hear you ask. Well it was nothing like I had planned, and took six and a half hours. I wasn't able to help anyone with my chatty positive conversation, and could only look on as a young lad, probably only 11yrs, was wheeled into the area by his dad. He had an obvious growth in his throat and his dad looked like he was being pushed into the ground by a huge weight. The boy was visibly tired and just wanted to get through the scan. Let's hope he gets through what's ahead. Be nice to see him running around a rugby pitch in a few years time.
My cannula went in well, and they managed to distract me long enough for me not to faint. Bridget wasn't there and I didn't get scared. The TV was put on early after we arrived and a group of friends of a patient decided to compete for volume with Jeremy Kyle show. They were from somewhere exotic like Romania, but I was trying hard to find out why an ugly bloke had had a child by his mother. As the TV show got louder, so did the Romanians who were only sitting across from each other. I reached for my baton and my CS gas, but remembered they were out of reach in my office and so I had to put up with the Romanians drowning out the full detailed explanation.
When they left I found out it was because he couldn't get a girlfriend and wanted to have his own baby. Rev Will might well cover this aspect of sex in his sermon on Sunday morning. Webbed fingers is usually a dead giveaway. Let's just hope nobody gets upset and walks out of the hall this Sunday. Which reminds me, my Rosanna has a Sunday afternoon job in Clarke's shoe shop, and didn't leave church early last Sunday because of anything Will said. Glad to have cleared that one up. I have her name down for the Sister's of Mercy Convent in Streatham anyway, so no need to worry about how she turns out.
My blog has been changed because a critic suggested I make it more feline and easy on the eye.
I won't know what it is like until I publish it, but hope it more visually pleasing.
I'm off to lie down now and finish my Dan Brown book..which has been spoilt a little by my blog reviewers......lets just hope it is exciting and that I find out what the symbol was that was lost in such a dramatic way.
I was thinking of putting in the title " Author struck down with Pneumonia " but that is probably a bit too dramatic for my blog. Truth is a have a lung infection, which is the P word, but I only have it in a certain section of my rt lung. I have to say that I am mightily relieved because I had it down for something a lot worse that it turned out. I was going for the 'that's it, no point in planning for Christmas' option. It never works out how I think it is going to, and I have dropped the moniker of "Lucky" from my name. I don't suppose all the recent outside events has done me much good, but you only live once and I did enjoy them.
So how did it go, I hear you ask. Well it was nothing like I had planned, and took six and a half hours. I wasn't able to help anyone with my chatty positive conversation, and could only look on as a young lad, probably only 11yrs, was wheeled into the area by his dad. He had an obvious growth in his throat and his dad looked like he was being pushed into the ground by a huge weight. The boy was visibly tired and just wanted to get through the scan. Let's hope he gets through what's ahead. Be nice to see him running around a rugby pitch in a few years time.
My cannula went in well, and they managed to distract me long enough for me not to faint. Bridget wasn't there and I didn't get scared. The TV was put on early after we arrived and a group of friends of a patient decided to compete for volume with Jeremy Kyle show. They were from somewhere exotic like Romania, but I was trying hard to find out why an ugly bloke had had a child by his mother. As the TV show got louder, so did the Romanians who were only sitting across from each other. I reached for my baton and my CS gas, but remembered they were out of reach in my office and so I had to put up with the Romanians drowning out the full detailed explanation.
When they left I found out it was because he couldn't get a girlfriend and wanted to have his own baby. Rev Will might well cover this aspect of sex in his sermon on Sunday morning. Webbed fingers is usually a dead giveaway. Let's just hope nobody gets upset and walks out of the hall this Sunday. Which reminds me, my Rosanna has a Sunday afternoon job in Clarke's shoe shop, and didn't leave church early last Sunday because of anything Will said. Glad to have cleared that one up. I have her name down for the Sister's of Mercy Convent in Streatham anyway, so no need to worry about how she turns out.
My blog has been changed because a critic suggested I make it more feline and easy on the eye.
I won't know what it is like until I publish it, but hope it more visually pleasing.
I'm off to lie down now and finish my Dan Brown book..which has been spoilt a little by my blog reviewers......lets just hope it is exciting and that I find out what the symbol was that was lost in such a dramatic way.
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