Post 518: Pills are not right but who will tell me why?
A voice message from the surgery asks if I can come in early for the drug review appointment. I say yes of course it suits me fine and it does too.
Now, I can go to work at the right time after the appointment at the Doc’s, also my Darling can tag along too. Happy days.
With the cat has found the best place to negotiate from early this morning and has me where he wants me so I swear to him quietly as I grab my dressing gown and Arsenal slippers and step one by one down the staircase to the ground floor as the howling of the stupid annoying Mr Vicious still crying to the empty bedroom. But as soon as I reach ground zero I am wondering if the hips and back falling apart today; they hurt much worse than usual actually. I think I’ll stay down here after I feed his highness.
I get to the back patio doors in the kitchen and pull the blinds, and still there’s a cat who thinks I’m upstairs until… click!
The turning of the patio door key has given me away and as I slide the door open I hear the feline pads bounce back up and over the garage roof and spin down to the ground and in through the cat flap into the garage and, his feeding station.
I’m beaten by his speed, that 12/13 year old cat 68 years old in his terms but still agile enough to beat the inflexible human feeder to the cat food. Yes I’m that inflexible human, I’ve really lost my touch.
That leads me onto my health nicely but not before the hypoallergenic rice food Mr Vicious has to have, is laid down in front of his unforgiving eyes.
So what’s up with me?
Well I’m just a bit pained today. It’s nothing to do with exercise or changes in the medicines, it’s just the change in the wind.
I sit down in front of the tv and think about correcting my iPhone diary for this afternoon’s appointment at the Docs, that makes me happier.
The appointment was for medicines and god help us if we can’t deal with the situation. To change the wording on the prescription for gabapentin and to ask questions about the guidance for taking Digoxin.
Who knows why I can’t take them at the mo but the advice was not to take it if my pulse is under 60 bpm - so I need an explanation to this conundrum or else I will never be able to take the pills because my pulse is always under 60.
While I watch the shoot-em-ups on tv quietly so I don’t disturb my Darling, still in my dressing gown and slippers, I make a stab at figuring out what’s what around here. But food first! Where’s my breakfast.
While I eat a haribo for breaky I get a email from my very own cancer nurse replying to a “push” the other day about the insurance claim I’ve put in months ago that needs a short reply from my oncologist in report form.
So while I have communications from this cancer care nurse I’ll ask a few questions about this and that and got onto the better more interesting questions like, how far can I travel in a plane because I’m trying to get my head around a holiday away somewhere, but neither I nor my Darling can offer up a solution.
Sorry but I’m jumping the gun here. I’m dreaming again due to such a lack of sleep again. I go to bed at 23:00 and wake at 03:00 four hours later with just enough of a memory about the questions I want to ask and not quite enough determination to ask them usually. But, what did the bone scan show? And, How far could I travel for a holiday away?
The brutal responce was that my back and ribs, pelvis and hips are apparently drowning in “new life!” (for new life read widespread disease in the bone) and that’s why there’s a plan for me to flag up possible radiotherapy locations to prevent the worst pains as and when they’re found.
Oh dear.
Oh well.
There’s nothing I can do about that, is there. Not even the great Houdini could get out of that. Ha ha.
So there it was in plain English at last.
I’ll cry about that sometime soon perhaps but it’s just the way it is.
I didn’t really think of my drones in that respect. You know. Not that I didn’t know really. Not that everyone in my family should know and give me cool hugs of continued support whether it be a physical hug or a virtual hug.
I’m realising now that my thoughts that this year my month on month improvements since the chair gymnastics Christmas Day and today, the September aches and pains, which I thought was a steady improvement and actually is a steady decline, I need my families warmth and love more than ever.
The shock to my logical mind has eaten away much of my energy and positivity. I’ll need a few days to get charged back up and to maintain a smile with a straight back when I walk.
I look at the 13 pills for the 8am feed and wonder how many more I could put in the dosett boxes, not many more is the answer to that. But for now the pills are working so I’ll put up with the mega pile of pills I have to maintain each week.
I sit back down at the tv for another few hours until the time reaches little short of 12:30 and my Darling is now down beside me reminding me to get my clothes changed and get ready for the doctor who will be helping me understand my current drug situation. I leave her to look over the emails that have come and gone today with my cancer care nurse and nothing phases her. My Darling seems to know everything about my situation. She ahead of me. I wonder if it’s her that listens more carefully and me that forgets the harder stuff to deal with.
My Darling puts me straight and asks me again to get ready.
I’ve upset her now, I know I have, pressing for information about stuff she’s already figured out is not fair on her, I’m a total wally if I think I can ask her anything and not have it affect her.
This situation I thought I’m handling well is a situation I’m not handling well. What am I like.
I change the subject to tattoos and clutter off upstairs to change.
At the GP surgery I sit and roll off all the questions I need to about the drugs I’m on. My darling adds the odd succinct explanation that I’ve forgotten and she knows to mention. It turns out that my GP says I’m not diabetic nor do I need statins. My situation is fine and the only outstanding issue is wether I should be back on Sotalol, the pill I was put on by cardiology last year and who think I’m still on it.
So more questions will be asked and more importantly more questions will be answered by the experts, hopefully.
So I suck up all the help I can get from my doctor whome I’m loving more and more just lately, and I store away the details as they were told me. This particular doctor seems to understand me, my Darling and my body very well and I’m hoping she stays available to me for a while until this mess is sorted out. I think my darling is placated now.
We both go to collect drugs from our pharmacist and two doors down in that cafe we usually frequent, have a coffee and chat about tattoos and a pedicure that my Darling hopes to get today while I’m at work.
My tattoo is tomorrow one sleep away and i can’t wait to be inked up for a good cause - if that’s even possible.
I’m coming around to the idea that my need for ink is a personal idea where the choices I make are my own to make and on my own body costed by my own money at my own convenience. It’s a shopping experience that I never thought I’d ever have but this second tattoo is in honour of two cancers close to me obviously and not just any old tat.
But if this amuses me and comes out ok tomorrow I will definitely have at least one more with will be a joint “love” image I’ll share with my Darling. She’s already got a few ideas but not settled on one yet.
I won’t ever be covered in tattoos but it’s a personal thing that I can do without persecution from the medical profession or insurance companies making money out of me.
Tonight I get another AFib attack and it’s hanging on as usual (overnight) while I sleep fitfully. I’ll take a pill in pocket in a bit, that’ll stop it.
Botherations.
I’m sorry how the blog turned out today because it’s a bit of a nonsense and a wine, but that’s the way I feel today.
Take care of yourselves it’ll soon be Christmas. Ha ha.
