08 November 2008

07 November 2008

NaBloPoMo 7

After a couple of days of feeling a little better, today I feel rotten again.

06 November 2008

NaBloPoMo 6: The Crip Eating Monster

Today I ate crips. No, really.

Despite feeling like death not even warmed up, I dragged myself down to the Royal National Throat Nose and Ear Hospital to see the surgeon that's going to be operating on my nose and sinuses.

The majority of staff at the hospital couldn't tell their arses from their elbows if they were clearly labelled. Fortunately I do have some faith in the surgeon, even if I'm concerned about whether or not the other hospital staff will be able to get me to the theatre on time. Or at all. He laughed, and then apologised when I told him about my pre-assessment telephone interview.

"What is your exercise tolerance?"

"My what?"

"Your exercise tolerance. Can you walk long distances?"

"No. I'm a wheelchair user. But I can push long distances."

Then about 10 mins later:

"What drugs are you on?"

"About 15 kinds. Where do you want me to start?"

"With the most important."

"They're all important. I'll start with the ones relevant to the condition I'm being operated on for."

[4 drugs later]

Her: "OK, just one more."

Me: "Well, I've still got about 10 different ones left."

"What do you take for your muscles?"

"What?"

"What do you take for your mobility."

"Erm... nothing..."

*headdesk*

She had to hang up, check with a supervisor if she needed me to carry on reading the rest of my drugs list, and call back. It just got better.

"You need an adult to bring you in."

"Why? I know I'll need an adult to take me home because of the anaesthetic, but why to bring me in?"

"It is because you are a wheelchair user."

"What? I'm a big grown up 29 year old, I can get myself to the hospital."

"You live alone!?!?!?"

So my surgeon sent me up to pre-assessment in person to redo the interview on the basis that my info was written down by an idiot.

I'm still all viral and achy and tired and bleurgh. By the time I got home I just wanted to sleep. But I was starving and too exhausted and utterly spoonless to cook, so I went to grab some grub from the café round the corner. I was so hungry that I couldn't even face the 5 minute wait for a jacket potato to be delivered to my table, so I turned to the crisps rack behind me...

When I noticed they were selling Crips

I had to.

There are some fantastic quotes on their site... "Crips are everywhere!" being possibly my personal favourite.

Don't understand the whole animal advertising thing though. My Sea Salt & Balsamic Vinegar Crips had a picture of 2 dogs on the packet. Neither of them were in a doggie wheelchair. False advertising, that's what it is. I want to know what's inside my packet of fake crisps from looking at the packet. Yes, Crips should be advertised by real crips.

05 November 2008

NaBloPoMo 5

Still feeling a bit foggy, but my virus appears to be subsiding slightly.

On Sunday fearing I may have tonsillitis I dragged myself to the NHS Walk-in Centre at Charing Cross Hospital, where they've got a Walk-in Centre, a Minor Injuries Unit and an A&E in one. You register at reception, get seen by a triage nurse, and they decide whether or not you should be seen as a walk-in patient, a minor injuries patient or an A&E patient.

Despite only having suspected tonsillitis the triage nurse put me down as an A&E patient. I'm assuming that was because of the wheelchair. I wanted to hit my head against things - there's an A&E dept within walking distance of my flat. If I wanted to go to A&E over a sore throat I'd have gone there, instead of dragging myself halfway across London, getting lost in Hammersmith due to the hospital not being signposted and having to resort to calling my mother in Clacton to get her to look up a map online and give me directions to the hospital.

Grrr.

So, anyway, I was seen within a matter of minutes. I wish my waits in A&E had been that short during my childhood when I could've been eligible for some frequent visitor reward scheme on account of breaking my arms all the damn time.

I was seen by a nurse who only cared about why I used a wheelchair.

"My throat hurts and my nose is bleeding about 5 times a day. I've got chronic sinusitis and am on the waiting list for surgery."

"So, why do you use a wheelchair?"

"Osteogenesis Imperfecta. But, sinusitis! Nose bleeds!"

"How do you spell that?"

"O-S-T-E-O-G-E-N-E-S-I-S I-M-P-E-R-F-E-C-T-A. But, sinusitis! Nose bleeds!"

"Is that like a spinal thing?"

"Literally translated from Latin it means 'imperfect bone formation'. Sinusitis! Nose bleeds!"

"Have you had it long?"

"What? The sinusitis or the OI?"

"OI."

"Erm... since birth? Sinusitis! Nose bleeds!"

Meeting a medical professional more interested in OI than what I actually went in for is nothing new. Meeting an A&E nurse who's never met someone with OI is more shocking. OI is pretty rare, but OIers do make up a fair amount of the traffic that goes through A&E depts, what with the frequently breaking bones thing. I spent so much time in X-ray as a child that two of the first words I learned to read were "danger" and "radiation"!

After all that, he finally looked down my throat, saw no pus, decided I just had a virus and sent me home with the instruction to drink lots of hot drinks.

Like I need to be told to drink copious amounts of tea.

P.S. Yay! Obama! Roll on January 20th.

04 November 2008

NaBloPoMo 4

Still got cotton wool for brains. Let's hope American voters are capable of thinking more clearly than me.

03 November 2008

01 November 2008

NaBloPoMo 1

I was thinking of doing NaBloPoMo, except illness stole my brain and replaced it with cotton wool.