Catheters and Mayonnaise. What do these two very diverse topics have in common? Well, in my local hospitals it seems to be that whatever is wrong with you, a catheter has to be fitted and your sandwiches have to include mayonnaise!
I can understand that after major surgery draining the bladder is important and I have no problem with that, but I sometimes wonder if doctors are on commission for this particular piece of equipment. Earlier this year I had a uteric stent removed and attempts to replace it proved impossible. In fact so many attempts were made that my eyes were watering over a week later! You will understand therefore why when a couple of weeks ago I was hauled into hospital and the doc said they wanted to catheterise I declined. In all the time I have been under treatment this was the first occasion I've ever gone against the recommendation of a doctor.
A little later another doctor came and asked again, so I queried again why. The conversation went something along these lines:
Why do I need a catheter?
We need to monitor your urine output.
I have no problem passing water.
Yes but we need to measure your input and output.
Up to now I've been peeing in a bottle and it's measured from there.
Yes but a catheter would be better.
Is it going to make me pass more water?
No.
Right, we'll stick with the bottle.
Round one to me!
On Friday of last week I was taken back into a different hospital for 24hrs IV fluid. Guess what. "We want to put a catheter in". The conversation went very much along the lines of the previous encounter, and I made it quite plain that unless it was a matter of life and death nothing was going up there again! We continued with the jug and I'm none the worse for wear.
Round 2 to me!
So where does mayonnaise come into all this? Well, it doesn't really, but it came across as another obsession within our local NHS. Hospital food is not the best. In fact round here it's pretty crap, but we have to eat so are given the daily menu. Not having a great appetite at the moment I settled on sandwiches. The choice? Chicken and Mayo, Tuna and Mayo, Egg Mayo, Cheese and Mayo! Why? The whole world, including be does NOT like mayo, but there is no option here. Why not make the sandwiches without dressing and offer a sachet of mayo, or is that too simple?
It obviously is.
Rant over!
Tuesday, 22 May 2012
Monday, 21 May 2012
More Grief
I haven't updated these pages for over two weeks because I've been struggling to get my head together and find the right words. So, here's a bit of a catch up.
On May 4th I was prescribed a course of strong anti-biotics to combat infection. My temperature has always been a bit of a problem, and the "assumption" was infection. Why it has to be an assumption I don't know. They've had enough blood and urine samples to check properly but as far as I know nothing has happened along those lines. Anyway I dutifully commenced my tablets on Friday evening.
Over the weekend I started to become weak, breathless, disorientated, and heaven knows else what, and on Bank Holiday Monday had to all an ambulance to get me into hospital. Bloods were immediately taken and the intitial diagnosis was dehydration, so in went the saline drips. Good job I have a PICC line! It was later decided that the antibiotics were also part of the problem, and they were withdrawn.
Tuesday brought an Ultrasound scan, and I was then told that I was to be sent to another hospital for a special scan in the Nuclear Medicine Dept. It seems they were looking at the state of my left kidney. Recent problems preventing replacement of a urethreal sent meant suspicion of resrticted kidney function, and talk of inserting a nephrostomy was raising its ugly head. The following day two chaps arrived to inject me with some sort of radioactive material, and six hours later I was collected to make the short trip for the new scan.
While we were sat waiting for the scan the receptionist handed us the request slip to give to the radiologist, and what we saw on it was, to say the least, a bombshell. The exact words have become a bit of a blur, but message was "a nephrostomy is likely to be out of the question as the left kidney is too badly damaged". Obviously we were somewhat devastaed.The scans have confirmed that my right kidney is working OK at 97% and healthy, but the left is down to 3% and is about as much use as an ashtray on a motorbike.
After four days in the hospital I was discharged and given an appointment to see the onchologist last Friday. Bloods again revealed acute dehydration so the doc insisted I stay in for at least 24hrs for more IV fluids. I've had that much saline pumped into me over the last few weeks it's a wonder I don't spend all day singing sea shanties!
So back home next day with strict instructions on minimum fluid levels, which Marie is monitoring on pain of she's ringing 'em up to fetch me back if I don't behave! Feeling better already and starting to eat a bit more despite my taste buds still being about as much use as my left kidney, but I'll get there.
On May 4th I was prescribed a course of strong anti-biotics to combat infection. My temperature has always been a bit of a problem, and the "assumption" was infection. Why it has to be an assumption I don't know. They've had enough blood and urine samples to check properly but as far as I know nothing has happened along those lines. Anyway I dutifully commenced my tablets on Friday evening.
Over the weekend I started to become weak, breathless, disorientated, and heaven knows else what, and on Bank Holiday Monday had to all an ambulance to get me into hospital. Bloods were immediately taken and the intitial diagnosis was dehydration, so in went the saline drips. Good job I have a PICC line! It was later decided that the antibiotics were also part of the problem, and they were withdrawn.
Tuesday brought an Ultrasound scan, and I was then told that I was to be sent to another hospital for a special scan in the Nuclear Medicine Dept. It seems they were looking at the state of my left kidney. Recent problems preventing replacement of a urethreal sent meant suspicion of resrticted kidney function, and talk of inserting a nephrostomy was raising its ugly head. The following day two chaps arrived to inject me with some sort of radioactive material, and six hours later I was collected to make the short trip for the new scan.
While we were sat waiting for the scan the receptionist handed us the request slip to give to the radiologist, and what we saw on it was, to say the least, a bombshell. The exact words have become a bit of a blur, but message was "a nephrostomy is likely to be out of the question as the left kidney is too badly damaged". Obviously we were somewhat devastaed.The scans have confirmed that my right kidney is working OK at 97% and healthy, but the left is down to 3% and is about as much use as an ashtray on a motorbike.
After four days in the hospital I was discharged and given an appointment to see the onchologist last Friday. Bloods again revealed acute dehydration so the doc insisted I stay in for at least 24hrs for more IV fluids. I've had that much saline pumped into me over the last few weeks it's a wonder I don't spend all day singing sea shanties!
So back home next day with strict instructions on minimum fluid levels, which Marie is monitoring on pain of she's ringing 'em up to fetch me back if I don't behave! Feeling better already and starting to eat a bit more despite my taste buds still being about as much use as my left kidney, but I'll get there.
Friday, 4 May 2012
Spoke too soon
As soon as I put up a page saying everything was going OK, circumstances do an about turn and now all is not well.
Today was my day for blood tests etc. in readiness for next Tuesday's chemo session. It turns out there isn't going to be any chemo next week. My blood pressure was through the ceiling, my temperature was high, and my white cell count is so low it's bordering on the "let's have you in hospital" level.
Having allowed for the "white coat" syndrome to die down my BP was taken again and thankfully was OK, but temp and cell count are of concern. The problem is that apart from fatigue caused by not eating properly for a few weeks (I've lost 4Kg in three weeks) I feel and look very well, and I think that this is the only thong keeping me out of a hospital bed right now. The oncologist thinks the other problems may be due to an infection, so chemo is put off for a week to allow for a course of antibiotics - again.
All very frustrating, but I have to accept that the doc knows best.
Today was my day for blood tests etc. in readiness for next Tuesday's chemo session. It turns out there isn't going to be any chemo next week. My blood pressure was through the ceiling, my temperature was high, and my white cell count is so low it's bordering on the "let's have you in hospital" level.
Having allowed for the "white coat" syndrome to die down my BP was taken again and thankfully was OK, but temp and cell count are of concern. The problem is that apart from fatigue caused by not eating properly for a few weeks (I've lost 4Kg in three weeks) I feel and look very well, and I think that this is the only thong keeping me out of a hospital bed right now. The oncologist thinks the other problems may be due to an infection, so chemo is put off for a week to allow for a course of antibiotics - again.
All very frustrating, but I have to accept that the doc knows best.
Monday, 30 April 2012
Nothing to Declare
Having received emails from two friends worried that I hadn't posted anything on here for a few weeks, I thought I'd better put that right. Problem is, I don't have a lot to say at the moment as all is going quite well.
Having got over the clash between my chemo and other meds, things seem to be on track. I'm still very weary from it all, of course, but that's about all.
We've just got back from a week in Newquay (the Cornwall one), so that's added a little to my fatigue, but it was well worth it. Despite the mayhem the weather forecasters threatened us with for the time we were there, we had sunshine for at least part of every day. Yes, it was a bit cool and we had some showers, but compared to the rest of the country we did exceptionally well. Thursday in Padstow was the best day, with wall to wall sunshine until around 4pm.
So as not to overdo it, we travelled as far as Gloucester on the Friday, finishing the journey the following day, and on the return leg we broke journey at Swindon. The only downside was that we drove home on Sunday through torrential rain every bit of the way, and when we got home the boiler had packed in.
A call to British Gas resulted in an offer of an appointment on Monday afternoon. No way, the house was cold and felt damp after being unoccupied in foul weather for nine days. So, I played the "C Card". Not something I do regularly, but I said that as I was undergoing treatment for cancer that wasn't acceptable. That did the trick, even though it was turned 11pm before the engineer got here. A new pump and valve later he left just after 1am.
So, dear readers, thanks for your concern, but all is well, and I have no need for grumble mode right now!
Having got over the clash between my chemo and other meds, things seem to be on track. I'm still very weary from it all, of course, but that's about all.
We've just got back from a week in Newquay (the Cornwall one), so that's added a little to my fatigue, but it was well worth it. Despite the mayhem the weather forecasters threatened us with for the time we were there, we had sunshine for at least part of every day. Yes, it was a bit cool and we had some showers, but compared to the rest of the country we did exceptionally well. Thursday in Padstow was the best day, with wall to wall sunshine until around 4pm.
So as not to overdo it, we travelled as far as Gloucester on the Friday, finishing the journey the following day, and on the return leg we broke journey at Swindon. The only downside was that we drove home on Sunday through torrential rain every bit of the way, and when we got home the boiler had packed in.
A call to British Gas resulted in an offer of an appointment on Monday afternoon. No way, the house was cold and felt damp after being unoccupied in foul weather for nine days. So, I played the "C Card". Not something I do regularly, but I said that as I was undergoing treatment for cancer that wasn't acceptable. That did the trick, even though it was turned 11pm before the engineer got here. A new pump and valve later he left just after 1am.
So, dear readers, thanks for your concern, but all is well, and I have no need for grumble mode right now!
Wednesday, 4 April 2012
Was mother right?
Last Tuesday I had the dubious pleasure of a procedure to remove and replace a stent from between my bladder and kidney. Now as many of you will know there's only one way into the body to do that, but at least I had the benefit of general anaesthetic. Once consciousness had been regained I was carted of to a ward to rest up before having the catheter removed and being packed off home. Everything in the garden was rosy - or so I thought.
Mid afternoon I found my bed surrounded by the head urologist and members of his team, and felt quite honoured that they'd visited me. That feeling soon disappeared. It was good news bad news time. The good was that they managed to get the old stent out, but the bad was that they couldn't get a new one in. This was partly due to my ureter shrinking as soon as the installed stent was removed, and partly due to calcification. I was furring up like a kettle! The chances are that I will need a nephrostomy (see previous post) as my left ureter will eventually block off.
Once home I started to realised what the many attempts to get a new stent in had done to me. Going for a pee was absolute agony and blood flowed freely. It's been a long time since my eyes watered with such regularity! After a day of this I started taking paracetamol to ease the pain, and when that failed I dug out some Tramadol hoarded after my last operation, but they didn't seem to help either. After five days of this I was getting to the end of my tether. Then my mother came to my rescue.
Not physically, you understand, but I recalled that when I was a kid if there was anything wrong with stomach or waterworks we were given home made barley water. She would boil up a pan of pearl barley to get the juice, and I can remember actually eating the residual cooked barley mad into a milk pudding. Would something along those lines help? Nah.
However, having found some Pink Grapefruit and Barley cordial on the pantry I decided it might be worth a try. Realising that the actual barley content would be fairly low I drunk as much as I could, and would you believe it seemed to do the trick. I'd stopped taking pain killers as they were doing nothing, but within 24 hours of ploughing my system with the barley drink the bleeding and pain were greatly reduced, and the following day had gone completely.
My wife is convinced this improvement was just a coincidence, but I'm not so sure. To go from such pain and distress to almost nothing in such a sort space of time must have had help, and I remain certain that after 50+ years, mother's remedy was the reason.
Mid afternoon I found my bed surrounded by the head urologist and members of his team, and felt quite honoured that they'd visited me. That feeling soon disappeared. It was good news bad news time. The good was that they managed to get the old stent out, but the bad was that they couldn't get a new one in. This was partly due to my ureter shrinking as soon as the installed stent was removed, and partly due to calcification. I was furring up like a kettle! The chances are that I will need a nephrostomy (see previous post) as my left ureter will eventually block off.
Once home I started to realised what the many attempts to get a new stent in had done to me. Going for a pee was absolute agony and blood flowed freely. It's been a long time since my eyes watered with such regularity! After a day of this I started taking paracetamol to ease the pain, and when that failed I dug out some Tramadol hoarded after my last operation, but they didn't seem to help either. After five days of this I was getting to the end of my tether. Then my mother came to my rescue.
Not physically, you understand, but I recalled that when I was a kid if there was anything wrong with stomach or waterworks we were given home made barley water. She would boil up a pan of pearl barley to get the juice, and I can remember actually eating the residual cooked barley mad into a milk pudding. Would something along those lines help? Nah.
However, having found some Pink Grapefruit and Barley cordial on the pantry I decided it might be worth a try. Realising that the actual barley content would be fairly low I drunk as much as I could, and would you believe it seemed to do the trick. I'd stopped taking pain killers as they were doing nothing, but within 24 hours of ploughing my system with the barley drink the bleeding and pain were greatly reduced, and the following day had gone completely.
My wife is convinced this improvement was just a coincidence, but I'm not so sure. To go from such pain and distress to almost nothing in such a sort space of time must have had help, and I remain certain that after 50+ years, mother's remedy was the reason.
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