About a week that includes words I can’t spell..thank goodness for spell check hey!?

You know me. I don’t do these things by half.

Before reading on please know that I am trying humour. Its been a tough one so may come across as whinge. Apologies if it does… I’m really trying…

Last Thursday I woke up in pain. Now..for me to actually be aware of new pain means it’s pretty big already.  Being woken up is quite horrendous as I am on a lot of painkillers and should sleep through hurricanes etc. I like my sleep. Also it was pain when breathing in. (Panic inducing too…argh!! Vicious circle here or what) maybe thought I may die a little…

So I manage to get in to my GP on an emergency same day appointment.

Got to him at just before twelve.

Now, due to my extraordinary high-risk of everything because of the tumour removal blah blah..half lung, what ever, doctors not exactly panicking. But is saying lots of words I kind of understand that all have pulmonary blah blah and he phones the hospital and gets me an appointment for 1pm.
(Not knocking the NHS at any point but to get in for an emergency appointment and THEN be sent straight to hospital is a bit freaky. Not freaking out..Not freaking out!!!)

The main things he was freaking out was:
*blood clots
*a tear in my lung lining
(NOT FREAKING OUT but what the actual fuck. At that point my brain ignored that and just remembered blood clots)

righto then. Whiz home, grab my tablets as I have no idea how long this will take, then whiz over to the hospital… Remembering to take a Tunnocks wafer biscuit as sustenance..

In a completely not freaking out way, I have my chest listened to. A squillion blood tests (which includes the fun hunt for working veins, I’m still bruised, it’s not their fault, my veins dont like to play. They went for the baby vein in between the left little finger knuckle and the next knuckle in. Ow..), chest xray and then, because one of the blood test results was like, double what it should be, a CT scan.  Not freaking out. Right?
Then a little wait for the CT to be analysed.

…..

…..

Chatting to random people in  waiting rooms…. It’s a skill my mother gave me.

NO BLOOD CLOTS!!! THIS IS AWESOME NEWS.

However, I have liquid on my lung, pleurisy and pneumonia.

(In my head, I’m trying to be serious and take it all in,  but brain is going ‘do you think he will throw in rickets and TB too  COR, you’d have died in Victorian Times’.. Yeah, thanks brain)

So having seen my xrays, which also show the existing big problem with my collar bone, I understand a hell of a lot more of *why* everything hurts. This then makes me calm down about the pain as its ok to have. I am also ok on my level of recovery overall.

image

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(I love pictures of my insides!!!!)

I have been beating myself up lately as I have felt very conflicted between ‘oh God aren’t I better yet???’ And ‘but it still really hurts and I can’t do that yet!!’
It’s good to know I am doing standard.  I like to be able to measure.

Fact helps. Validation.

Went back to work on Friday and basically got very shouted at.

Work have been very, very good to me over the course of the last six months health wise. My occupational health woman is a diamond and basically told me to take this week off. I have time in lieu so it makes sense. (And it was kind of like being savaged by a duck, she’s so gentle most of the time, but her being so damn forthright was scary).

So, here I am, forced to not do ANYTHING for a week.  I need to recover from a technically serious thing.

Strange times…..

I have learnt the following things:
*the NHS are a fabulous institution. 5 hours from GP to diagnosis, including so many tests… Cannot beat it.
*I can’t do nothing and this will be very testing.
*haribo for breakfast is not sensible
*b.o.r.e.d…….

6 months and 7 days later.

Oh God.

It’s been that long already!

Why does it feel like it’s only just yesterday?

I’m stuck in a limbo between “aren’t I over that yet” and “take it easy I’m still recovering”.

No one gives you a roadmap to recovery .

The surgeon said 6 months, maybe 9. So it looks like I’m on the maybe 9 side of things.

The damn wound site is really bloody painful still and some days the pain is most obtuse. (And I’m already on so many tablets it’s unreal.. I don’t think I could physically fit anymore into my day..just wish some of them would actually kill pain!!)

I get told to take it easy a lot. I wish I could.

There is always so much to do that falls in the “if I dont do it, it won’t get done” camp. (Caveat: husband is as wonderfully supportive as he can be. He also has issues that make it impossible for Him to do certain things. I.e. we are at an impasse)

I am definitely having trouble trying to do “normal” things. Be normal.

Taking it easy at work is easier said than done obviously. The occupational health lady is wonderful and supporting, but again, I am the only person in the company doing what I do. Taking it easy is an option only to walk back into a massive wall of initial issues, chaser issues, second chaser issues, New work etc etc.
And not forgetting the old faithful of “where is the coffee now?” (Answer..where it has been kept for the last 6 years asshole).

I’m fighting myself constantly. It’s very tiring.

I am my own worst enemy. My expectations of myself are SO very high.

And, you see, I’m doing this all on top of a condition called Fibromyalgia. That’s bloody bad enough on its own. Surgery recovery too….Well, it is just plain rude really.

But let’s face it, I’ve never known when to quit..Or even slow down.

I worry about everything. My mind is a constant whirring of worry.
The noise is fairly hefty right now. Spinning and spinning…

So. What do I do? I don’t know. In all honesty, it’s just one foot in front of the other right now.  I will surface from this current slump as I have done in the past. One thing will get sorted and it will start a cascade of everything else being ok too.  It’s just a case of hanging in there and sitting right until that one thing presents itself.

This is not the most positive or uplifting of posts, but you know, sometimes just writing things down has a way of getting it out of your head. And that in itself may be the thing I need. 

And, in six months time it will be a whole year. Maybe I can throw a party for my half lung??

One. Foot. In. Front. Of. The. Other….