Thursday, 15 August 2013

Another Day, Another Infection

This is an early blog due to the fact I'm at home again, this time with a throat infection.

I've had a sore throat for going on a week but it has been mild so I've gargled with salt water and just got on with it. Then yesterday I felt overwhelmingly tired and my voice was a bit croaky. I just thought it was the residue effect of the fun day I'd had on Tuesday. I was so tired I was in bed by nine and almost went straight out, I didn't even have the energy to read. When I woke up this morning my throat felt like I'd swallowed glass and my voice was practically non existent. I rang work then went back to bed until the doctor's opened.

I was lucky enough to get a cancellation but my heart sank when I actually walked into the surgery. My favourite GP in the practice retired last month and I was face to face with her replacement.

Like most PHer's I dislike meeting new doctors because they do one of two things. Either they pretend they know more about the condition than you do, after all they are the medical professional and you are just the unqualified patient. Or they don't believe you when you say you need things like antibiotics etc. Thankfully this was an altogether pleasanter experience than I was expecting. She was quite young and willing to listen to me. I got the impression that she'd either encountered PH before or she'd been warned about me and had bothered to do some research. I know for a fact, as they've told me, that I'm the only PH patient they have and the only person waiting for a transplant so I'm their 'special' patient. This status ensures I get to see a doctor on the day I ring in no matter how full they are, which has saved me from ending up in hospital on more than once occasion. What ever the reason I was so grateful not to have to explain everything to her and then argue that I did need something stronger than salt water because of my poor immunity. She did look a little shocked when she took my blood pressure and oxygen sats but I assured her both were in normal range for me, which she accepted without argument, result!

After a lengthy examination including the taking of a swab from the back of my throat, she prescribed an antibiotic mouthwash that I'm to gargle with four times per day. She said she preferred to give me this rather than conventional tablets as there is less likely hood of it getting into my system and upsetting my other meds such as my warfarin. She also gave me a throat spray which will sooth the inflammation and help with the pain. The worst bit was when she told me to limit my talking as much as possible and, if I can, keep silent for the rest of today. Like I'm going to manage that! She said she will ring if the swab comes back with anything nasty. Prognoses is that I'll be feeling better by Saturday and back on my feet by Monday.



So another day on the settee being waited on hand and foot. At least it is good practice for all the resting I'm going to have to do post transplant.

Talking of which, I see that Holby City managed to compound it's disastrous portrayal to transplantation by prolonging the event in it's latest episode.

This time the mother of the donor came face to face with the recipient. After all the fuss this has created you'd have thought they'd have altered or even pulled this week's effort. Although it ended up with the mother of the donor deciding it had all been for the best in the end, the damage has been done.

On the plus side, figures released yesterday shows a 6% increase in transplants over the last twelve months. That means four thousand people received their new organs thanks to the generosity of donors and their families. However, although brilliant news, three people a day still die waiting for their chance of a new life and almost ten thousand are on the transplant list, hoping and praying they will be given the ultimate gift. Please do not be taken in by silly fictional drama's and, if you haven't already, sign the list today.