Well this week I spectacularly added to the long, and recently published, fails relating to my medication.
I have done many stupid things in the past two and bit years but this probably ranks up there in the top five, if not the top three.
I was doing my prep and was gloved and wheedling whacking great needles about. Then I sneezed. Now a sneeze over all the sterile stuff would mean starting again because of the risk of infection so I decided to sacrifice my arm as I had a needle in one hand and a vial in the other. I rammed my arm, yes the one with the needle, under my nose and sneezed violently, not one but three times. Sometime during this event I became aware of a sharp pain in my other arm. I looked over to see the partially full syringe embedded into my forearm. I must have jerked when I sneezed and stabbed myself. Of course I then made things worse by panicking, I'm needle phobic, and grabbed the syringe yanking out. During my moment of panic I must have jogged the plunger and the stabbing pain became a stinging one and my hand began to tingle. Blood squirted out of my arm as the vein expanded until I looked as though I had a large pea stuck under the skin. Now in complete panic I abandoned any attempt to stay sterile and grabbed the dressings that came with the pack and slapped them onto my arm. I pushed and held for at least ten minutes until the bleeding had stopped and the pea had reduced.
After clearing up, re-sterilising and finishing my meds I surveyed the damage. I had a huge bruise forming and the site was very swollen. My hand was a bit tingly and numb. A bit like when you hit your funny bone. Otherwise I was fine. Even my heart rate had returned to normal. I let the Brompton know but I do things so often all they did was sigh and tell me to let them know if things got worse or didn't clear up in the next day or two.By the following morning a pin prick mark and bruise was all that was left of my escapade. I live to fight another day.
The rest of the week has been pretty normal. I recovered form my weird tiredness on Tuesday but am definitely feeling more tired by the end of the day. By two o'clock I could easily curl up under my desk and sleep, something that I haven't experienced for a long time. Something is going on, just wish I knew what.
Another thing I've been experiencing recently is a sense of expectation. I know I've said similar things before but it is a really strong feeling. It will probably pass in a few days and nothing will have happened but hey ho you never know.
On Wednesday I saw the welfare lady at work and told her about everything that had happened over the last few months. She was extremely helpful and talks a lot of sense. She was very encouraging about my plans for a new start after transplant. I really look forward to our meetings because it is the one place where I can let everything out and not be judged. I need that outlet sometimes or I'd go mad.
In the news there is yet another report saying we shouldn't eat sugar, meat or fat such as cheese. Oh for goodness sake! What are we supposed to eat then?
I occasionally have a bit of sugar in my tea. I occasionally enjoy a macaroni cheese. I occasionally enjoy a bacon bap. The key word here is 'occasionally'. I have never followed food scares like this. I've always stuck to the mantra, 'a little of what you fancy does you good' and I believe it has served me well over the years.
If the Department of Health is really serious about tackling obesity then maybe the unemployed should be given food tokens as part of their benefits which can only be used to buy fruit and veg. Maybe those in work could get cut price, or even a period of free, weight watchers or gym membership. There are lots of things that can be done without scaring everyone to death and punishing those who do eat healthily but occasionally feel the need for a blow out. We've all been there, on the sofa with a 2lb box of Dairy Milk and a crate of tissues after a break up, we don't need to feel guilty about it.
Just like the alcohol problem, putting up prices punishes everyone and alienates those who just like a quiet tipple now and then. So what to do? Well I don't have any answers except don't use a sledgehammer to crack a nut.
Well I have the joy of a filling at the dentist this afternoon. So I'd better get my chocolate biscuit dunking in early. I'll let you know how it went tomorrow.
I have done many stupid things in the past two and bit years but this probably ranks up there in the top five, if not the top three.
I was doing my prep and was gloved and wheedling whacking great needles about. Then I sneezed. Now a sneeze over all the sterile stuff would mean starting again because of the risk of infection so I decided to sacrifice my arm as I had a needle in one hand and a vial in the other. I rammed my arm, yes the one with the needle, under my nose and sneezed violently, not one but three times. Sometime during this event I became aware of a sharp pain in my other arm. I looked over to see the partially full syringe embedded into my forearm. I must have jerked when I sneezed and stabbed myself. Of course I then made things worse by panicking, I'm needle phobic, and grabbed the syringe yanking out. During my moment of panic I must have jogged the plunger and the stabbing pain became a stinging one and my hand began to tingle. Blood squirted out of my arm as the vein expanded until I looked as though I had a large pea stuck under the skin. Now in complete panic I abandoned any attempt to stay sterile and grabbed the dressings that came with the pack and slapped them onto my arm. I pushed and held for at least ten minutes until the bleeding had stopped and the pea had reduced.
After clearing up, re-sterilising and finishing my meds I surveyed the damage. I had a huge bruise forming and the site was very swollen. My hand was a bit tingly and numb. A bit like when you hit your funny bone. Otherwise I was fine. Even my heart rate had returned to normal. I let the Brompton know but I do things so often all they did was sigh and tell me to let them know if things got worse or didn't clear up in the next day or two.By the following morning a pin prick mark and bruise was all that was left of my escapade. I live to fight another day.
The rest of the week has been pretty normal. I recovered form my weird tiredness on Tuesday but am definitely feeling more tired by the end of the day. By two o'clock I could easily curl up under my desk and sleep, something that I haven't experienced for a long time. Something is going on, just wish I knew what.
Another thing I've been experiencing recently is a sense of expectation. I know I've said similar things before but it is a really strong feeling. It will probably pass in a few days and nothing will have happened but hey ho you never know.
On Wednesday I saw the welfare lady at work and told her about everything that had happened over the last few months. She was extremely helpful and talks a lot of sense. She was very encouraging about my plans for a new start after transplant. I really look forward to our meetings because it is the one place where I can let everything out and not be judged. I need that outlet sometimes or I'd go mad.
In the news there is yet another report saying we shouldn't eat sugar, meat or fat such as cheese. Oh for goodness sake! What are we supposed to eat then?
I occasionally have a bit of sugar in my tea. I occasionally enjoy a macaroni cheese. I occasionally enjoy a bacon bap. The key word here is 'occasionally'. I have never followed food scares like this. I've always stuck to the mantra, 'a little of what you fancy does you good' and I believe it has served me well over the years.
If the Department of Health is really serious about tackling obesity then maybe the unemployed should be given food tokens as part of their benefits which can only be used to buy fruit and veg. Maybe those in work could get cut price, or even a period of free, weight watchers or gym membership. There are lots of things that can be done without scaring everyone to death and punishing those who do eat healthily but occasionally feel the need for a blow out. We've all been there, on the sofa with a 2lb box of Dairy Milk and a crate of tissues after a break up, we don't need to feel guilty about it.
Just like the alcohol problem, putting up prices punishes everyone and alienates those who just like a quiet tipple now and then. So what to do? Well I don't have any answers except don't use a sledgehammer to crack a nut.
Well I have the joy of a filling at the dentist this afternoon. So I'd better get my chocolate biscuit dunking in early. I'll let you know how it went tomorrow.
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