Eleven weeks and counting. Seriously. Counting. At least I'm not down to counting days, hours, minutes. Not yet, anyway. Eleven weeks ago today I was incarcerated into the Dementia Central ward for crazies. You know how badly that affected me (and my hearing, too). But-that did have a somewhat interesting conclusion.
The injections of anticoagulants have had really nasty side effects; I'm told that I will have to live with those until the end of March, which will be six months from the first jab. By side effects I don't just mean nasty bruises to the injection sites, or headaches, or occasional nausea, or the terrible dizziness that's part of the process-or even severe weakness. It's been very hard to even get out of bed in the morning-and that just isn't like me at all. I mean what happens when we eat something that disagrees with us-or food poisoning-or stomach flu. I mean that what goes in one way has to eventually come out the other way. Sometimes this happens much faster than we ever imagined (usually when we're in public). It's the runs, people. My grandfather used to call it Montezuma's Revenge. No-I don't know why either. But it sounds more delicate than saying that someone's got a bad case of diarrhea. And that's another side effect of the blood thinners. But I was told last week (by an immunology registrar, not by hematology Nurse Ratched) that I will have to somehow find a way to live with all this until the end of March-and that it's better than dying, isn't it? Well-when he put it like that...
So that's why you haven't heard from me. I feel like all I do is complain. And, let's face it. Nobody likes a moaner.
I've got good news, though. All of a sudden I'm feeling a bit better about living with anything. In June I went to see the neurologist (yet another team. I've got loads of them). I said that I'm forgetting things: names, places, appointments, etc. I was worried. So he ordered a brain scan. I can truthfully say that it won't be cancer, or gentamicin, or heart trouble, or blood clots that will carry me off. It'll be the radiation poisoning from all the scans that'll kill me.
So- I had the brain scan, and then I went along for nearly seven hours of memory tests. Two hours one day, five the next. One ten minute bathroom break. Nothing else. Good thing that I have good kidneys. I got back completely exhaused (and thirsty). But I never had any results and I wondered why. I had an appointment with the neurologist yesterday afternoon.
Now, talk about depression and anxiety! I had an acquaintance who was diagnosed with dementia in May. She doesn't remember me now. And after the five day torture in what I call Dementia Central, I was becoming afraid that I would end up like them some day-even if they were all thirty years older than me, it still bothered me. I needn't have worried.
The consultant sat me down and told me that brain cells start dying off around the age of 30, so the brain does shrink. I said that nobody wants a shrunken head-but he said that all of us start to show signs of aging, and it's better than the alternative (don't you love that expression). Then he told me that I do not have any signs of dementia, and probably won't develop any, either. He said that the doctor who tested me has many years of experience, and that I surprised him and the rest of his team by being very high functioning. He said that the testing team would like to do some tests to see just how highly functioning I am. Goody. More testing. I said that I want to get past the blood clots first. Apparently I impressed everyone. Now- I have never been really good at accepting compliments, but I was so very shocked that I just said thank you. He will be seeing me again after the anticoagulants are finished.
What a shocker! I nearly skipped out of his office. So many things have gone so badly that I had very low expectations that anything was ever going to go right. I keep looking around to see what is going to go wrong next. Maybe that should be a new year's resolution: try to be much more positive and optimistic. Hmmm...would I be so much fun then? Doubt it.
That is my update for now. Christmas is only two weeks away, and if it stops raining I'll be able to go outside and view all the decorations. Some have always been terrific. Others have been so dire that the people who put them up should run and hide...
Keep your heads down, people are now shooting each other in London, too. Stay safe and I will write again soon. Maybe I'll get lucky and the blood clots will disappear. Meanwhile, it is most definitely coffee time.
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