Awake and up all night

Uki and your response made me laugh.

Before I'd had my medical phobia drastically reduced, I was faced with a tall female ward nurse of military build who originated from an 'Eastern Block' country who had come to do a diabetic finger prick blood test. I explained that I'd got a phobia which included needles and asked her to give me time, a minute, to prepare myself mentally. She impatiently said "Phobia. What is PHOBIA?? I gave up on that approach and got her to agree to ping my finger after a 3, 2, 1, countdown. She waved her arms around. I quickly shouted "THREE, TWO, ONE, NOW! Of course, it's a trivial little blood test and I hardly felt it but at least I negotiated/contrived a tiny bit of control.  xxx 

Well done Ray. Needles never used to bother me. But now I get frightened when I see one.

 Evening Ray.

I've got a mental image of the scene with your lady looking like Rosa Klebb. But Ray, you've disappapointed me as I didn't have you down for a wuss, especially after all you must have endured. We live and learn hon. My brother's needle phobic but he did spend a long time in hospital when he was very young. I must be masochistic as I enjoy watching the needles go in and seeing the drawn blood. Crazy.

Talking of blood, has your issue settled at all hon? xxx

My 'Rosa Klebb' was nearly 6ft and had a frightening marching gait.

Regarding wussism, I think I've mentioned this before on a Macmillan forum, perhaps not on this subforum. It started when I was aged about 7 and ran away from my dad who had collected me from school to take me for a jab at the local doctor's surgery (more like his front room). As soon as I realised, I ran and hid in Woolworths. I was eventually rounded up and dragged back to the doctor's place, tightly holding my buttoned school blazer to prevent exposure of my arm target. The bar steward grabbed me and injected through the blazer. I was utterly shocked. After that incident, I fainted after dental inspections, dental treatment, subsequent injections, after reading medical news items and even when watching a bloke on a David Attenborough type programme showing himself being bitten by a mosquito. In secondary school, I spent nearly the whole day jumping backwards in the BCG (anti-TB) jab queue. The jab itself was murderously painful. After the cancer diagnosis I had several weeks of CBT with a wonderful lady who verbally probed my vulnerabilities, discovering the blazer incident as the probable cause. It took a while to be de-wussed and there are still no go areas which can make me an awkward patient at times (I refused to have anti-coagulant jabs in the stomach when in the various wards). 

Pink flow stopped at 5pm yesterday after having been continuous since Saturday morning i.e. about 32 hours of mild to moderate blood loss. I've been ok since except for a very brief, very mild trace of pink and some red bits (clots?) mid afternoon. I'll be seeing a doctor. Will play the on-line booking game tomorrow. xxx

Don't know why but I have had days of chat to catch up on. So me ... of course it's all about me  felt yeuck on Sunday very nauseous, today much better. Unscheduled day out with a pal, shopping and cheeky slice of carrot cake, all without the bondage boot. Yes of course ankle is letting me know about it.

Now I need to get to get serious. People on complex and serious health journeys often get a skewed sense of judgement about what being or feeling 'alright' is.

Of course we know how it happens and up to a point it is necessary. We will take every small win, treasure every little thing we manage on our own and definitely cannot shout up about every twinge, miss step and hiccup, as frankly we would be hoarse.

It results in a situation however like the lovely @Soc

Bluntly, they've been through hell and then some, up and out of hospital early, live alone. Realistically this is a recipe for an unnecessarily stressful recovery.

There is no one around to offer a friendly, never mind more informed opinion on how 'alright' they are, how they are tolerating the after affects of surgery and medication etc.

Realistically 111 cannot be a timely response when needing quick advice or intervention. Have you tried ringing it? If you are feeling unwell never mind disoriented you would never be able to queue long enough and jump through the hoops.

I suggest if you are undergoing or have had 'recent' treatment, you get hold of your 'recovery at home' service contact number. Apparently especially after 6pm they are the people, says my GP receptionist, to get most sense from.

I am just as guilty ... after my surgery I came home to an apartment, front door street level, everything else up flight and a half of stairs, place was huge, needed a taxi to get to the bathroom. I was alone, I had a dog and no outside space so he had to be taken out by me.

I needed daily injections and there was the notion that after being shown once I would do it myself. I did not like that idea, felt too brittle and fragile and walked to GP to ask our lovely nurse if she would do it. Uncharacteristically she quickly said no, no appointments available which I thought was odd.

Much later she told me it because I was unwell, that I looked really unwell and needed the district nurses to come to me. Which they did. Yes I also felt guilty but looking back ... just what is it we would have to undergo before believing we deserve care?

Not a bit of care, not just the in the moment crises care or expert procedures, not just the fractured bits of different specialisms, but care in the round, someone to care for us. Someone in charge of monitoring, advocating, arranging and doing, so we can actually get on with coping, recovering and managing.

We are all too flaming, selflessly heroic.

Ahem stepping off my soap box folks, I am obviously feeling better 

Cheers

Aw Ray, after reading about your childhood trauma I'm not surprised you were frightened to death of all things needly and I sincerely apologise, especially with labelling you a wuss. You're not. I'm far too techy when the weather's like this and I don't like upsetting people, especially friends. Sorry again hon.

Those stomach injections are pretty painful and I certainly didn't enjoy those when I had them.

Ray, will you promise to get yourself seen by a doctor when it can be arranged sweetheart? I'm sure I won't be the only one here who's worried about you xxx

Best wishes for Wednesday. The tension is horrible. It gets me in the stomach. I hope the results give some decent treatment options. xxx 

Gill, no need for an apology. I quite like the wuss label. Some very attractive nurses offer to hold my hand when I explain. Even handsome non-wusses rarely get that treat. I do see the funny side of my behaviour. xxx  

Wow Shimmer, you certainly can scribe a cracking post.

I'm in total agreement that Sonia was sent home too early to cope with everything by herself and the district nurses should have visited at least once every day. Your experience sounds horrendous too. I'm so glad you're here to tell the tale and still full of humour to boot - not the bondage one.

My OH got lucky in a way I suppose, as he had me to do all the honours in the early days, calling ambulances in the early hours, etc. if he'd have been on his own his chances would have been zero and especially without the power of speech. 

Ah well, I like what's happened here - Helen provides the prologue and you supply the epilogue, the rest of us fill the stuff in-between. It works.

Hugs sweetheart and make sure you take care xxx

You charmer Ray, getting attractive nurses on side.  

Casanova should have been your username - change it maybe? xxx