Momma Bear and The Nightmare.

Hello everyone. Before I start this post proper, I would just like to say a huge ‘thank you’. My last post What Depression Looks Like. was a particularly difficult post to write as it was the most personal and raw post I’ve ever written, so I was a little scared about putting it out there but I really wanted to share it to hopefully help people understand depression better and help people who might be dealing with similar issues. I was overwhelmed by the outpouring of support and love from friends, family and readers. So again, thank you.

OK to this week: it’s been a bumpy ride. As I was talking about in my last post, I’d had a pretty hideous week and hadn’t wanted to really do much, after posting though I felt a wonderful weight lifting and it also made me feel a lot more productive. I was still a bit nervous about the logistics of feeling so crappy and trying to function as a person. So I called my momma bear and she very graciously agreed to come down a bit earlier than planned to give me some much-needed moral support. I don’t know about you but it doesn’t matter what age I am, sometimes I just want my mummy to hold my hand for a bit while I navigate life.

Her being here has really helped, I felt better by her just being in the room. I’ve found as I’ve gotten older I’ve been fascinated with the parent/child relationship and I have really been making an effort to get a closer bond with my mum because a) I really want to improve upon our already pretty great relationship and b) I am fascinated by the duality of being a parent and a human being, I realised I knew next to nothing about my mum outside of her ‘mother’ role. I really wanted to learn more about the person, what was she like as a kid? What struggles did she have to face? What does she do when she isn’t with me? It sounds crazy that I wouldn’t already know this stuff and to be honest I couldn’t believe it myself when I realised it. We have had a wonderful time these past few days, laughing, crying, getting to know each others untold stories and I really feel the bond strengthening. I love my mum so much, she is an incredibly strong woman who doesn’t give a damn about what people think. She is fiercely herself and if you don’t like it, move along, she’s not changing for anyone. I have so much respect for this and hope that I can one day have the same attitude. We were chatting and I shared my theory that when you are born you have a huge bag of fucks and as you get older you lose more and more, until you hit the age where you have none left and are prepared to beat people over the head with the bag they came in, she laughed and whole-heartedly agreed.

I’ve been feeling better this week, some days I’ve felt as much as 60% normal (health wise) which has been such a welcome relief, I’ve still been getting random cramps and stabbing pains but it has been so much less often, I’ve felt like I could actually focus on my life and having mum here has really had me in a good mood, which after last week, feels wonderful! I’ve also had a partial diagnosis! This might seem strange but when you are dealing with ill-health and no answers or ideas as to what it is, it’s very upsetting. I felt let down to be honest, 7 weeks of suffering without knowing what the hell it was, was utterly soul-destroying and more than a little worrying (I don’t know about your brain but there is only so long mine can go without answers before it decides I’m obviously dying of a horrendous unknown, incurable nasty!) I have been primarily diagnosed with Gastritis.

‘Gastritis is  when the lining of the stomach becomes inflamed after it’s been damaged. It’s a common condition with a wide range of causes.For most people, gastritis isn’t serious and improves quickly if treated – but if not, it can last for years.’  – NHS Choices

I don’t yet know the type of gastritis or if that is the only thing going on (I have an ultrasound next week) but just to have an answer is wonderful because it means I can research it (already done at length) and figure out how I can handle and manage it.

The day of the diagnosis however was something out of a nightmare, I had to have an endoscopy (which is where they insert a camera attached to a long tube down your throat, into your stomach and take pictures of their findings) and to be honest I was pretty chill about the procedure as I would be under sedation. So I arrived at the hospital feeling pretty good, I was happy to maybe have some answers. The mood was damped however by the anesthetist royally fudging the vein catheter. He spent about 3 minutes, prodding, stabbing and scratching my vein before he announced he’d made a mistake and we would have to try on my other hand, at which point he put a vice grip on the site of the cock-up and squeezed with what felt like the strength of Samson after his eighth Red Bull! As if that wasn’t bad enough while my left hand was being  mercilessly crushed, the doctor came over and started working  on my right hand. I think the person who decided having a needle rammed into your vein should be described as a ‘sharp scratch’  needs to be awarded the ‘understatement of the year award’ or just have everybody scream ‘really queen?!’ at them wherever they go. After that pleasant experience I had the joy of coming round before the procedure was done and having full feeling as they pulled the equipment from my stomach and up my throat. I was a little traumatised and had ‘The Matrix’ flash backs for the rest of the day. After I was back in recovery, I needed a little privacy so I went to the ladies just to be with my own thoughts and digest the experience, I was sat in there for about five minutes and when I decided to get up to splash some water on my face I noticed a blood drop on the floor, then it turned out to be a blood trail, leading to a rather large blood pool on the floor next to the toilet. Turns out the screw-cap on my vein catheter had not been secured properly; or, you know, at all and while I was calming myself down it had fallen off and my blood had slowly been draining from my hand onto the bathroom floor. Once I had alerted a nurse they said, ‘Oh, the cap’s come off’ in an extremely matter of fact manner, she put a new one on and left. No apologies, no sorry you’re leaking your life blood onto the linoleum. Just left. I would also like to say,  I had been booked in to a private hospital by the NHS as it was an urgent request for the procedure. I think I’d be asking for a refund otherwise. So yeah, it felt like a nightmare of a day and I was so happy to come home to my Momma and get the type of cuddle only your mum can give.

The rest of the week has been spent ticking things off my ‘Mission’ list (I get more excited about the word ‘Mission’ than the phrase, ‘To Do’. It’s just so much more thrilling to have a mission) and enjoying festive family time. Including watching an awesome festive double bill of ‘Love Actually’ and ‘Die Hard’ (in my opinion two of the best Christmas films) and making a 2016 Christmas memory board.

I hope you have all had a lovely week and not experienced any nightmare medical scenarios! I’d love to hear how you get festive and your favorite Christmas films, I seriously think ‘Die Hard’ is my favourite (yippee ki yay!)

until next time,

Be Kind Others. Be Kind To Yourself.

x


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