I think I might have picked up Forrin Germs when I was in That London.
I think I might have picked up Forrin Germs when I was in That London.
- I have a roof over my head, food to eat, and all that jazz. More than many people have.
- I have an amazing daughter, and doggie-nurses who snuggle me when I'm feeling bad.
- My boys. Some of you live with me, some of you don't**. You're all amazing. You're all utterly different to each other, but you're all such good people. I am incredibly grateful and privileged to know each one of you.
- I have the best friends in the world***. By tweet, by text message, by phone call... You have all been there for me this week. Thank you. I wish I could repay you all for the worth you are to me, but there's not enough gold in the world.
* the doctor said he didn't think it to be shingles because it was too widespread, and he'd lean towards an allergic reaction, but for various reasons (including my dad the human biology teacher turning up at my house, taking one look at me, and saying "well that's CLEARLY shingles!", and the fact that I have had further outbreaks when I have been nowhere but home...) I think it probably is.
** One of you is kind of half and half right now...*cough* Anyway...
*** if you're thinking "oh she probably doesn't mean ME..." I probably do. Y'all have probably heard of micro-aggressions. There should be a similar term for micro-acts-of-kindness. There are some of you who have said something that you probably think of as a throwaway comment, but which has literally shown me that life is worth living this week. That's very valuable indeed.
There now follows a link to storify, as I have already told this tale on twitter. And can't be arsed typing it all out again. And I'm not embedding storify on here because it looks AWFUL and takes ages to scroll past for those who have already watched it unfold on twitter.
Basically what it boils down to is this: if I get mega-stressed and I can't utilise either of my usual coping mechanisms* my intercostal muscles will pull so tight that they will tear my ribcage away from my sternum. I do not see the evolutionary advantage in this capability of the human body, but apparently it's pretty common.
So I have to take a couple of days off work (which work have been very gracious about) and avoid stress. Trying to avoid stress is going to be very stressful, I think... -_-" For one thing, how do I stop the nightmares? Any tips gratefully recieved.
In slightly cheerier news, I got the results back from being a responsible poly person and going to get tested today, cos I know you're all waiting with bated breath for this. As expected, I am all clear on all tests.
*one of which is admittedly healthier than the other. Neither of which are available to me at work.
I have been blood tested, urine tested, x-rayed, ultrasound scanned, and had my abdomen prodded by five different doctors and three radiologists.
The ovary I had taken out has not magically regrown, and nor are there any bits of it remaining. There are no swabs or rolexes. I don't have any abnormal growths. My kidneys, pancreas, spleen, liver, bladder, and various other organs have all been examined and none of them found wanting. My contraceptive coil hasn't pierced my uterus. I don't appear to have diverticulitis. The only other tests they can now do involve barium meals (which might be an option if they thought it was diverticulitis, but as they don't it seems a bit pointless) or exploratory surgery.
The most likely explanation is surgical adhesion from when I had my ovary out. If it IS that then exploratory surgery would probably find it but they might not be able to do anything about it, and given that I am not actually screaming in agony at all times it's probably not worth it right now.
So I have to talk to my GP about pain management, pay attention to my stools (YAY! Funtimes!) and take lots of painkillers. Potentially forever. And go back if the pain gets markedly worse or I start having constipation, diahorrhea or vomiting and they'll do the exploratory surgery.
On the plus side I also now have written proof that I have not got dementia and my cognitive abilities are not suspicious. Yay. Witness my face of utter joy.
This morning he rang me up and said he'd been thinking and wanted me to come back in. So I went back in and he poked and prodded again and asked exactly the same questions he asked yesterday and then said he wasn't sure what it was, and he'd swear it was ovarian but there's no ovary there, and it might be this really rare type of hernia, and I'd better go to the hospital for more tests.
So I went to the hospital. And after the nurse did paperwork and blood pressure a doctor came (she was quite fanciable, and commented favourably on my shoes) and did EXACTLY the same poking and prodding and questions as my doctor had done, took some blood, and then sent me for an x-ray. The x ray ladies liked my shoes too. I was wearing my Vibram Fivefingers.
After the x ray I sat in the waiting room for three hours watching challenge TV.
Eventually the cute doctor came back, bringing a registrar with her, and he poked and prodded and asked exactly the same questions as the cute doctor and my own doctor had both already asked me. Then he said that he couldn't feel a hernia, and that it seemed like something ovarian to him. At which point I pointed out that both ovary and fallopian tube had been removed from that side, so it couldn't be.
So, given the tests I have already had: there's nothing shown up in a urine test, nothing in the blood tests, and nothing on the x rays. Which means cancer is unlikely because they look for cancer markers in the blood, the surgeon who took my ovary out didn't leave her rolex in there because that would have shown up on the x ray, and I haven't got a bladder infection. So what do you reckon I have got, dear reader?
What terrible fate has befallen our beloved author?
The surgeon who did the operation 2 years ago left a swab or other non-x-ray-showing thing in there
Jennie has a magic ovary which has regrown and decided to hurt
Some sort of hernia
Something else which I shall explain in gory, stomach-churning detailin the comments.
Still, at least that explains why everything aches - lungs not working properly, not enough oxygen to tissues, tissues complain. Looks like another couple of days in bed for me till antibiotics kick in :(
(Image credit: The Monster Market)
My brian is fired*, my nose appears to have had a waterfall installed, and every muscle and joint in my body feels like someone is trying to crush it.
I am trying quite hard not to be irrational and belligerent and morose, but it's not entirely working. Sorry bout that. It's just that about the only thing my brain can manage is random internetting. So consider this an apology in advance if I say something ridiculous or offensive or both.
* I think it was nannyo who originated that amusing typo, but I might be wrong.
- There weren't enough girls in it, and those there were... Well, they were only there to orbit the boys, to help them because boys are the ones who matter. I am weary of this trait in pretty much all forms of fiction - it's probably why I'm so addicted to Bones at the moment.
- Christopher Lee should never twinkle. It was unnerving how good he was at it.
- Gustav's resemblance to officer Crabtree from 'Allo 'Allo detracted from both the pathos and the menace of his character.
You should see this film if:
- You like early cinema, because there are some beautifully integrated bits of old films, and a ton of visual and scripted references too
- You're a steampunk person, because the set and effects will make you cream yourself, especially if you see it in 3D
- You want to discover that not all child actors are awful and annoying.
- You appreciate a beautifully crafted bit of cinematic act, even if it's not flawless
- You can cope with all the flaws I mention above
- You need your films to pass the Bechdel test.
- You need to have ACTION every five seconds, and can't cope with long, lingering, langourous artistry.
- You don't want to see Jude Law die screaming in a fire - you don't get much warning that it's going to happen, so I'm warning you now.
In other news, I am feeling AWFUL tonight. This week has not been the easiest. So I am curled up in bed with a hot water bottle and faint sounds of Holly playing on her computer coming through the door. All brandy gratefully recieved.
* lack of female characters being a minor problem on a per-film basis, which adds up to a major and endemic one if you consider te totality of film, obviously.
Saw the consultant yesterday; Gideon is a fibroid. He needs to be taken out, and I've been booked in for February (three months away FFS!), with the proviso that I can go in earlier if the surgeon gets a cancellation. My GP has given me some super extra strength painkillers to keep me going. I feel very down about the whole boiling.
Podcast is all recorded, but there have been some hiccups with the editing. I may put up a rough cut, just to get episode one out there.
Holly is having The Hobbit for her bedtime story and I got so into it that I was reading to her for three quarters of an hour tonight. She's loving it. She managed to wangle herself onto a school trip that we had no idea was happening today too, the little so and so...
Blogging mojo is all out of kilter.
All the above, though? None of that is why I am not going to help out in Old and Sad. If we lose the by election, the party will be wounded. The media will whap us with it. But if we win, with that candidate? I can only see damage resulting from that too. So I'm hiding under the duvet as far as Old and Sad is concerned. For more information, Andrew Hickey has written a post which is full of the conflict I feel.
SQUEE! Sarah-Jane hugging Jo, and Eleven running about like an ostrich with hair, and big evil robots, and ClydeySplodey and... and... Goddamn, doesn't that look AWESOME?
Anyway, if you fancy making more Whoey buddies, that doctorwho friending meme is a good place to start.
Later today there will be a restart of my blog awards, and finally getting round to doing Caron a graphic, and possibly some other stuff. I have the flu, so am mostly stuck in bed - missed Stephen Fry's live thing at the national media museum last night because of it - and you guys know that means spamming ;)
- Am on my third day off sick from work, and it's getting old now. My abdominal pain is less than it was, but still definitely there. I can't walk very far without making it massively worse - indeed, I haven't left the house since getting back from the doctor's on Friday, aside from a brief trip to my mum's to pick up my mother's day card from amazing_holly, who is at her dad's for the weekend.
- I really, really REALLY wish I could have gone to conference. There are so many people I would have loved to see. Ah well. It'll have to wait till Liverpool.
- I'm doing really well at sending conversation-killing text messages today.
- I wish someone would magically tidy my house and do all the DIY that needs doing. It's ironic that being off work gives me the time to do it, but I can't physically manage it. And when I'm better, I shall have to go back to work, and then I won't have the time...
- Biggest referrer to my blog this week outside of direct links and search traffic was Liberal Vision. I guess this means I ought to start reading them on a more regular basis (i.e. not just Sara's posts)... ;)
- Trying to avoiding reading about/hearing about The Egregious Tory Tosser is getting more difficult. I turned off the House of Comments podcast less than half way through because I was sick of hearing his name. You know, I know he's the biggest blogger, but he's ONLY the biggest blogger because so many people link to him and talk about him and quote his inane dribblings. If we ignore him, he'll go away. And then perhaps someone who has some talent other than self-promotion might get to be the big daddy. Just a thought.
My March sponsor is Mark Reckons, and I suspect he'll have something to say about that last bullet.
1, I looked at analytics today. Who knew that if you post to a blog, people will read it? LOL.
2, Mat is snoring away next to me. He's cute when he snores. He'll kill me for typing that.
3, I beat TeaKay TWICE in geekery in the last 24 hours. TWICE!
4, I have a doggy footwarmer. Sure, I have a temperature and am already too hot, and I can't feel my foot anymore, but it's the thought that counts.
5, Because I'm off work sick, if the pain allows me, I'll be able to do some housework as long as I disinfect after myself...
That's not really a positive, is it?
(That was a rhetorical question, Mother, I can see the comment forming on your keyboard even now :P)
6, Now Show on the radio tomorrow, since I missed it tonight.
Six is LOTS of positive, right? Good. I'm going to attempt sleep again now.
My March sponsor is Mark Reckons, who is unfailingly positive and relaxed and unflappable.
So not only am I missing out on conference, and not only does my gut feel like someone is tying knots in it, but I have caused a massive problem at work, and am losing money through not being able to work to boot.
Isn't life a joy?
My March sponsor is Mark Reckons, whose gut is in perfect health as far as I am aware.
I have been trying to not panic about it all day (and many thanks are due to the Duracell Bunny for his cheering text messages and to Mat for being comforting) but not really succeeding.
Hopefully my appointment will come through soon...
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Still, a nice feverfew tablet, several hours in a nice dark bedroom, lots of water to drink and lots of snuggles, and I am feeling more human. Hopefully will be fit for work tomorrow, anyway. Can't afford any more time off.
In other news, the fire brigade and the police are currently paying a visit to the house next door but one. We had the police visiting our street last night too, because one of the neighbours had thrown her boyfriend out (and he's already on bail for assaulting a police officer)... So no prospect of sleep for me any time soon. Even when the forces of righteousness aren't being noisy themselves, the dogs are barking at them. I hope the neighbour hasn't burned herself to death or anything.
ETA: one of them is reversing. There's the
beepbeepbeepand brakes squealing right outside the window...
* heavy sigh *
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