A rapid decline

I figured if I wanted to keep the blog current I would need to update it whist the action is happening as opposed to trying to recount events at a later stage.

So, I thank the Technology Gods for the fact Wellington Hospital has woken up to the fact they need to offer wireless service, and I am able to get online from the iPad in order to post this (at a cost, but hey)... All from the discomfort of my hospital bed.



It's happened again.


I feel pathetic as every time I've wound up in the ER (or A&E, depending on where you're from) it's the same story: "It's my normal pain, but way, way worse".

I should really stop saying that, as it would seem as though my body says "challenge accepted" and ramps it up tenfold.


I have never been scared by my pain. I've been upset by and frustrated by, but never scared.

Last night, I was scared. Terrified, even.

I am a silent sufferer. I have the tendency to withdraw and retreat into myself whilst dealing with acute exacerbations of pain. I breath relatively normally, I can (for the most part, save a few curse words and unladylike grunts) hold a conversation and relay exactly what it is that I am experiencing.


Not last night.


Last night I came into the hospital writhing and bawling my eyes out (something I have never done, as it does nobody any favours) barely able to breath or form a sentence.

I was seriously, seriously freaking out over the severity of the pain, as I have never, ever experienced pain on that level before. I lost any and all ability to cope via my usual means.

Being as familiar with the hospital staff as I am, they were able to see this and I was rushed through on a Code 2 - meaning no wait time and high priority... A nice change from the usual 2-3 hour wait.

It did however, further emphasise my fears that something is quite seriously wrong, as I've never had a rush through like that.




I had to spend four hours down in ED whilst they tried to get my pain to a level where I was comfortable enough to withstand the trip up to the ward.

This in itself was no easy feat.




31mg of IV Morphine and 10mg of IV Ketamine and I was still in an absolute state - unfortunately I now had hallucinations and horrendous nausea and other side effects to deal with on top of my pain.

Not a fun evening, at all.




Ketamine and a cute doctor in between your legs on a Saturday night... Sounds like a good time.

Totally not. I'm so sick of feeling like a hand puppet.




So, that brings us to right here, right now.




On a scale of 1-10, my pain is at a barely manageable 9.725, I've not slept properly since Tuesday night.

I was meant to see a whole bunch of friends and their children today, but obviously that had to be cancelled.

But worst of all, my little girl yet again gets let down.

It's a sad, sad moment when you ring your child to let them know you have to once again cancel plans.

It's even more sad when your child, at a mere four years old (though closer to five) is the one sounding like the parent by consoling you.

"It's OK, Mumma. You don't have to be sad. I am a little bit upset but you don't have to be sorry".

I guess if there's one thing my daughter will have gained from this piss-take of a situation, it would be a huge amount of empathy and understanding for those suffering in any shape or form.




I don't know where this latest admission is going to lead. There's nothing they can do at this present point in time, as its the weekend so resources are limited - this is something I have gotten used to, though I still find it incredibly frustrating.

I had a basic internal scan taken at some ungodly hour of the night/morning, which yielded no real results, which while reassuring, you can't help but wish that there was something there... As validation and verification that you're not going crazy or making shit up in your head.

The number of times I've had the term "Phantom Pain" bandied around in relation to my situation is enough to make a girl go nuts.




I'll have a more thorough, comprehensive scan taken tomorrow - though I think they're questioning whether they will in fact go ahead with that one, seeing as I only had one a couple of weeks ago that didn't show anything of note - aside from some free fluid which would indicate a cyst had ruptured.




I feel like a broken record for saying so, but I really cannot do this any more.

Just when I'm convinced I can't feel any worse, BOOM, I get markedly worse.




This is my fourth admission in three months.

I genuinely cannot cope with this any more. I am at bottom. I don't want to do this any more.

Last night when I overheard the nurses talking about how the amount of pain relief I had been given would generally knock out a large man, all I could find myself thinking was "Good. Give me more. Knock me out. I don't want to play this game any more. I don't want to wake up. Who's gonna care anyway? Nobody's going to have to worry about me or bail me out anymore. No more stress for anyone".




Yeah.

I am that over it.

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