Mucus Update

 

Yesterday I rang work with the full intention of telling them I'd be back to the ward today, but even just having a short conversation I became acutely aware of how congested I sounded and how troublesome my cough remained. As I coughed and spluttered I made the decision that it was completely wrong to return; thankfully my colleague was understanding and appreciated that it was foolish to return before I'm well. I'm now not in until Tuesday, the following four days will hopefully allow me to recover fully?

I've probably been unwell for approaching a fortnight, but have felt proper horrible for five days. Work on Saturday was difficult, consequently I missed out on meeting up with the Biddlecombe's in Knowle on Sunday (and a nice Lunch) not wishing to pass on any bugs to the little people and making Cath & Rob's week harder.

Woke today feeling much better. Yesterday I was debating returning to my GP for another course of antibiotics and a sick note 'cause I continued to feel so grotty. Amazingly when I woke it appeared that my secretions had largely dried up, but following taking my morning tablet the mucus begins again ... It's not as vivid or plentiful as previously so I decide to sit tight instead of returning to the doctor's for a further appointment.

As wrong as it maybe I'm a little disappointed, attending the doctors would mean I could legitimately leave the house for an hour, even grab a Costa!?!

On top of the mucus, discomfort and general 'illness' the symptoms are significantly exacerbated by guilt and boredom. Both of which are likely to force an early return to work. I know potentially how busy it can be just with one man down, I'm also very aware of how many staff are currently off sick. Dropping like flies apparently. This makes the guilt grow and grow. You enter into an internal battle in respect of do your symptoms outweigh the guilt you feel? 

Boredom, quickly the novelty wears off and I'm left feeling bored. It's almost like being on house arrest, it is inappropriate to go out. I've made short dashes to the local co-op to pick up newspapers and pain killers, but I wouldn't go any further than that.

I think if you're well enough to be in a supermarket, out in town or at a coffee shop, then in most cases you're well enough to be at work. Certainly in terms of short term sickness, if you're off for longer (stress, chronic conditions, injuries, etc) than it becomes more acceptable. Liz doesn't necessarily agree, but then she had a period of lengthy sickness years ago and that perhaps taints your opinion? 

Flush, bin or burn?

I take great pride on those occasions when we manage to fill our blue wheelie bin right to the top, the success of recycling so much in a fortnight (two hundred and forty litres approximately apparently). Utterly stupid 'cause in actual fact it is the complete opposite of success for the consumer (Rupert), but more the success of consumerism and subsequently for packaging producers.

I guess true recycling success can only be measured by comparing what is placed in the recycling bin with what is placed in the green domestic bin. Minimal in both is the obvious consumer goal, but the furthest from the goal of the distributor. We need to consume less, be aware of waste, not just in terms of recycling but also food, energy and most of all time.

It has led to the mental discussion of what is the best way to deal with used tissues; is it best to flush them, bin them or burn them (should you have the facility)? Google has up to now been unable to assist.

Out

Took the brave step of leaving the house to pick up some provisions from the supermarket, collect some laundry that Sue had kindly ironed and borrow a dvd that Ray recommends (Zero Dark Thirty) .

Although I am officially on a day off today, I still feel guilty even going out. Consequently I left home early, quickly picking up a basket of groceries and briefly stopping at the coffee shop for a light breakfast 'cause I felt a bit wonky.

Today sits between two long-day shifts, I was off sick yesterday and despite feeling much better today it's likely I will be off tomorrow also.

The tension band that was initially felt round my cheeks has graduated up my face and is now wrapped around my eyes. By tomorrow it will have climbed up to a John McEnroe'esque headband and by Friday a topknot of tension, who knows how it'll exit come the week-end? I have visions of my head just popping like one enormous spot. I'm full to the brim with mucus, uncomfortable, irritated but most of all bored (... and guilty)

LoveFilm haven't been able to dispatch films fast enough. Typically in the one week when I have to time to watch actual delivery has been delayed.  

I've even indulged in an afternoon sleep everyday, not just out of boredom but also 'cause I've really needed it. It's rare for me to be ill (proper ill), but when I am it fatigues me greatly.

Sinusitis

 Feeling proper sorry for myself today. What was initially felt to be hay fever combined with a summer cold has rapidly mutated to something more unpleasant. Up until now I have been managing it with over the counter remedies and treatments, but it has gradually worsened each day over the last week until today when we've had to bring out the heavy artillery and it has been necessary to contact my doctors.

I've lost almost all sense of taste or smell, an advantage some may say, food isn't about flavour currently more about texture. 

My GP has prescribed Doxycycline (100mg), instructed me to take regular analgesia, increase my fluid intake and rest. Subsequently I have called work and told them I won't be in tomorrow.

I'm hoping to be feeling better for my shifts on Thursday and Friday, but I know I couldn't go in as I'm feeling currently. There's not much dignity coughing, sniffling and spluttering over patients and their families, it certainly doesn't provoke much confidence in the care giver if they are also ill.

I felt awful on Saturday, even resorting to giving myself some nasal suction, much to the hilarity of my colleagues. On reflection I'm unsure of the ethics and had visions of being called to account for this at a later date, but desperate times call for desperate measures. And I was desperate. To be honest the ethics are fairly clear; I was full of snot and in great discomfort. It was suction or going home, and we certainly weren't in the position to let a member of staff depart.

Although I am fearful that these two bouts of suction may have consequently exacerbated my subsequent sinusitis?

Care Cakes

 

Bruce Springsteen Coventry

Insomnia

I'm in a right old mess, crippled by the sniffles, I fear it's terminal. When hay fever and a touch of cold (man flu) collide.

I really thought I had found a solution to poor sleep following a night shift, a hot milky drink with a few pages of my book before trying to go to sleep. It was tremendously successful on my last run and seemed to work following my first shift on Sunday. Slept like a top, waking refreshed and ready for action at around four o'clock in the afternoon.

Sadly it wasn't as effective following Sunday nights shift as I tried to sleep during Monday in preparation for my final one. Tossed & turned all day and eventually admitted defeat at two o'clock'ish. Getting up I didn't feel right, I knew I wasn't at my best as the temptation to pull a sickie was great. Despite my significant moaning and protest, predominantly I realise you have to take your medicine and just get on with it. But I just couldn't find that little pouch of reserve to hold on.

I slouched in front of the tele, just about got myself together for the shift, but my heart wasn't in it ... and neither was my body it seems. Throat got sore, sniffles increased, I just felt *blaaa* 

I kept going through my shift; pulling a long forgotten, aged and battered Lemsip from my bag kept me numb for an hour or so. Regular iced drinks and a ice lolly* helped to numb my throat for a short while. But as the night progressed I just felt worse and worse. Staffing numbers are so poor that you can't really embrace or cover a member of staff departing mid-shift, especially on a night however ill they maybe.

So I just had to hang in there feeling rather pathetic and sorry for myself. Even verbalising that I wasn't at my fighting best were greeted with surprise. "But you're never ill!!!" 

I even got sent for a break mid-shift, and I went. Which was greeted by equal surprise  "But you NEVER go for a break!!!"

Lying in a darkened cubicle I still felt guilty despite being entitled to a forty-five minute break each night. If I added up all those night shifts that I have forgone a break and claimed the time back I'm sure I'd ultimately be very close to retirement?

When I started nursing you were made to go for a break during the night, irrespective of whether you wanted one or not. I clearly recall lying on discarded soft play items, dozing briefly and then feeling horrible for the remainder of the night. That little night doze would all to frequently jeopardise the quality of my day sleep.

Even when I did sleep, hard to avoid when lying on padded apparatus in the pitch black, I use to wake up so disorientated and confused. Which amused my colleagues greatly, but left me feeling horrible.

Eventually I put my foot down and simply declined preferring to endure the shift straight through. Even so I do feel a little robbed of all those hours I have given the NHS for free.

As I get older staying awake has become harder, night shifts really are a young persons game. By my mid-thirties when things did quieten I tended to suddenly droop, my head would drop and I'd doze. Again to the significant amusement of my colleagues. 

*Solario ice lollies available in the vending machine in the canteen, who knew? It did seem ironic that you could get a whole range of microwave meals, Danish pastries and ice creams, but the usual vending machine fare (sandwiches, cans of pop, etc) were absent. The girls reported that it was most amusing to come across me sitting at the main nursing station eating an ice cream at three o'clock in the morning.

Manna

This week marks the return of the mysterious fluff that has appeared on the lawns and in the trees at around this time every year since we moved to Stone. 

Originally we thought it was remnants of newly fitted carpets from surrounding houses, and we became quite indignant about it as I recall. It did seem to correspond with houses being completed and new folks moving in. We even purchased a garden hoover to try to deal with all the further debris that we found on waking each morning, now kaputt.

 

It was only the following years that we investigated further and discovered that despite it's wool like appearance and texture it wasn't carpet  but blossom from a long established set of trees at the edge of the development. We just have to accept it arrival and that it remains as it clings to everything and catches every branch, nook and cranny. 

It led to me wondering if the manna of Moses was not just some mythical dough but blossom? Bet it didn't taste very nice?!?

Sick

And of course today is Cleaner Wednesday 

When all I really want to do is stay at home, sit around, watch television and bumble about online I am forced to flee the house. Embrace a few hours wasted in coffee shops, just waiting until I can go home again, dose myself up on Lemsip, feel sorry for myself and potentially go back to bed. 

I really don't want to be unwell for Bruce Springsteen in Coventry tomorrow, the way I was feeling earlier I could have readily pulled out discarding the £65 ticket. But despite remaining a soggy mess of snot and nasal congestion I do feel slightly more human and hope that I will feel even more normal tomorrow.  Sore throat is improved and my glands are reducing. 

The streets aren't safe

If you can avoid the uneven paving, the poorly sited street furniture & signage and the dog turd littered paths, you are confronted by human detritus. They attempt to stop you as you reaching your destination, impeach as you go about your daily business, demand your time, your attention and frequently your money.

I admire anyone attempting to make a crust, but does it have to be at the expensive of me trying to go about my day.

I'm distrusting of wacky, wary of the zany (at the best of times). Today I was almost accosted by a bunch of young people (students I presume?) in fancy dress, distributing dental hygiene promotional literature. Thankfully I managed to avoid and consequently missed the opportunity to converse with either a tooth, a tooth fairy or a six foot red toothbrush.

Forgetting those in fancy-dress, the very sight of any lone soul clinging to a clipboard or wearing a charity logo emblazoned kagool desperately trying to make eye contact makes me take a wide swerve to avoid.

I'm the same with ...

Charity collectors (chuggers), paid street workers employed predominantly by reputable charities to guilt trip people into signing up for a monthly direct debit (swindling the elderly out of their pensions)

I don't doubt that all charities need to generate capital to continue their good work and I am sure that street work is very lucrative, and beyond being disturbed and inconvenienced that's my problem. 

We should all donate to charity, be encouraged to give to those causes close to our respective hearts, wouldn't it be great if a donation could be deducted from every wage and forwarded directly to your particular worth cause.

Yet we know cats, kids and cancer would do very well and those less cute / sexy / fashionable (delete as necessary) causes would be almost ignored.

 

Anyway ... those scum bags trying to foist their joke books or rag mags onto you, even though they appear long out of university or more accurately recently out of prison. The jokes aren't funny and the actual cause dubious. I tend to say or imply in fewer words ...  "If I give you £1 will you piss off?"

Evangalists and street preachers; whilst I admire your conviction and desire to spread the word, but is this the most effective form of evangelism. Irrespective of religion or denomination I think all appear to be a fundamentalists.

 I've always believe the best form of true evangelism is by simply living your life and being an example day to day. Make a difference in society and your community, be different and you will prick people's interest about your reasons and motivation.

And I haven't even got on to market researchers, gypsies distributing lucky heather (at a cost) and those ladies who try to sign you up to catalogues!

Small Victories

I take great pride on those occasions when we manage to fill our blue wheelie bin right to the top, the success of recycling so much in a fortnight (two hundred and forty litres approximately). Utterly stupid 'cause in actual fact it is the complete opposite of success for the consumer (Rupert's), but more the success of consumerism and for packaging producers.

I guess true recycling success can only be measured by comparing what is placed in the recycling bin with what is placed in the green domestic bin. Minimal in both is the obvious consumer goal, but the furthest from the goal of the distributor. We need to consume less, be aware of waste, not just in terms of recycling but also food, energy and time.

It has led to the mental discussion of what is the best way to deal with used tissues; is it best to flush them, bin them or burn them (should you have the facility)? Google has up to now been unable to assist.

Iain Banks R.I.P. (16th February 1954 - 9th June 2013)

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Iain_Banks

 

Today marks the sad passing of the writer Ian Banks, his monochrome cover novels pretty much marked the 1990's and beyond for me. 

Despite liking sci fi films and television, I seem to struggle with it in writing. Despite Bank's 'Culture' novels being equally acclaimed in both literary and science fiction circles, they never touched me the way his straight fiction did. 

His later work didn't always grab me, entwined so significantly in my previous marriage perhaps? Even so I look forward to picking up 'The Quarry' next week, which focuses on the terminal illness of it's lead character from cancer. Largely written prior to his own diagnosis and now sadly published posthumously. 

Tonight I'll raise a decent malt in tribute and thanks ... 

Adoption

What should have been a simple meeting purely to clarify and confirm our identities, turned into a bit of a grilling. We expected this at a later stage, deeming it as essential, but not on our very first meeting. Enquiries about childhood, previous marriages, mortgages, finance, health and much more. On hindsight she actually seemed more interested in our house, the area and having a look round, than she was about our suitability for parenthood.

We were so desperate not to say or do anything that would jeopardise our chances of eventually receiving a child, that we went with it. But following you can't help but review every question, response, throw away comment or joke for evidence of idiocy or mistake.

From this initial meeting and if provisionally approved, we then have a four day course either in early July or September. She gave us the dates for July with a wink (of sorts)- the 8th, 9th & 11th (Monday, Tuesday & Thursday) and a fourth day later in the month. Typical government agency (social services) no logical pattern or rational explanation. Sadly these dates correspond perfectly with a diocesan review of Liz's department and would no doubt heap further pressure onto her already burdened shoulders

Whilst the ward would have to be obliging, obviously the more notice I can give the better. I don't feel I can even really mention the possibility until we have received written confirmation; no need to generate unnecessary heat or hassle. Even if we attended the three day course without issue, there was still the concern that the subsequent final day would clash with our summer holiday.   

Evidence suggests that the September course would be better all round, but of course again we can't say this for fear of receiving a black mark against our names by putting work, a holiday or life before a child. But this isn't the case, sadly nothing can be processed until we have completed this short course, so two months delay in completion equals a possible two month delay in receiving a child.

We wait ...