All Things Sickly...

And so the adventures continued.  I returned to the Heath bright and early ready for my scan, dressed in my snazzy new skirt and top.  (Sometimes dressing nice just cheers you up, y'know?)  I was made to wait and partake in more tests until eventually I was wheeled downstairs to the ultrasound.

After it was over - they were getting pretty routine now, I was told to sit in the waiting area for a doctor to see me.  So I took my seat and waited...  And waited...  And waited.

...oh and waited.

At about 5pm I was finally escorted to a bed.  I'd cleaned out my entire handbag and purse, pulling out more receipts than a store hand out daily, as well as started writing an ode to waiting rooms.  (It'll be the making of me - just you wait.)  The, clearly underpaid, doctor came along to introduce herself and inform me that I would be staying overnight so that I could have a procedure in the morning to unblock the stones  ...I think I'd jinxed it by wearing nice clothes.

I was left where I was until 11pm.  Dwelling on the fact that I was going to miss yet more Eastenders.  In the bed next to me was an old woman who couldn't even sit upright.  They had to use what I can only describe as a miniature crane to lift her onto the bed.  She was in a lot of pain and would alternate between crying out, "just put me to sleep, I can't take this anymore", and "please help me, I don't want to die."  It was really heart breaking to hear anyone in that kind of pain.  

As I said I was moved on about 11ish to the short stay ward ready for my procedure.  I was handed some water and a cheese sandwich and that was it, I just had to wait.  By now it's pretty safe to say that I was sick of waiting and wanted to gouge out my own damn gall bladder.

How ridiculous is it that we've evolved over millions of years, probably from something that once had bloody gills, and yet we're still stuck with pointless organs such as the appendix and gall bladder?  Come on biology, get your shit together.

 The girl sat in the bed across from me, I later found out her name was Chloe, had been in the waiting room with me that morning, before being rushed off because she couldn't stop throwing up.  And now here she was, sat in the same room as me, still suffering every hour or so.  The next morning she was shipped off into the next room to sit in a bed whilst she waited for an op, (because we'd been lying on trolleys all night) whilst I was whisked away to have my procedure.

I had to be awake for my procedure which I wasn't happy about, but I was pretty high off whichever drug they had given to me so I can't remember much.  They made me lie on my front on the trolley before drugging me and shoving a tube in my mouth and down into my stomach.  The tube held a camera so that they could see what they were doing, as well as the tools to do it.  The nurse told me that they made a slit in the side of one of my bodily tubes and inserted a balloon to allow it to stretch; preventing any more stones getting stuck.  Hopefully. 

A few hours later, I was back on my trolley with a sore throat when they found me a bed in the next room, opposite Chloe.  We didn't really speak, it was more of a case of giving each other sympathetic smiles but she told me that she still hadn't had her op, despite being told that she was "next on the list" that morning.

It was about 10pm that they came for her, she returned at 12.30 - completely out of it because of the drugs.  They told her that there was nothing wrong with her appendix, but they'd taken it out anyway "just in case" and that they think it was just muscle bruising that had been giving her pain.  It's good to see all those years of medical school and that really expensive education being put to good use. 

The next morning, Chloe seemed a lot brighter and we started chatting, entertaining ourselves and clearly bothering the miserable woman that also had the misfortune of sharing a room with us.

When the nurse came to tell us it looked like we could go home that afternoon, there were no words for how loud we became.  A group of twelve year old girls could've been offered a meet and greet with One Direction and they wouldn't have been as excitable as we were.  We were told to wait for lunch - Chloe's first meal since arriving at the hospital, and then we could go soon after.  Well, the dinner lady wasn't a swift mover and the smell of fish and chips was driving us insane so this seemed like the longest half an hour of our lives.

It was Friday afternoon and we'd had enough of being ill.  After two weeks of suffering, I was finally able to eat and wasn't in any pain.  It looked like I would have to come back for an operation in six months time, but for now I was good to go.  The doctor signed my sick note for work (a week off, thank you very much) and gave me some cheeky painkillers and waved me on my way.  I gave Chloe a hug and we promised to stay in touch.  It's weird the way you meet some people sometimes isn't it?

And that was the end of my Glasgow/BlytheCon/hospital adventure.  Although I'm keen to go back to Glasgow and do it properly, I hope I'll be able to go without reliving this particular experience.  Wish me luck (and good health!)

All Things Medical...

Okay so it doesn't take a genius to realise that things weren't quite right with my last post.  I was really ill.  I'd finished the medication that the useless doctor had given to me and the pain hadn't eased up at all.  We decided not to go to the BlytheCon after party because I could hardly move in the bed, other than to sit on all fours because it felt like it was doing me more good than lying down.  Eventually Sam had had enough of seeing me suffer and we piled into the car and back to the hospital.

It was a little after midnight when we got there so A&E was filled with the standard drunken fools that had fallen over or the odd one in cuffs with a split lip from fighting, which meant that I had to wait a bit longer to be seen this time.  They shoved me straight into a bed though and then I was placed in a cubicle to wait.  At about 2am I sent poor shattered Sam back to the hotel to get some sleep and tried to doze myself.  Of course, that's when the nurses decide that they want to attend to you, naturally.  

Numerous various tests and samples later, I was given a diagnosis of gall stones.  It was now past 6am and I was wheeled onto a ward where the other patients were starting to wake up ready for breakfast.  I, obviously, was nil by mouth.  The caterer, clearly filled with compassion, set up her station at the foot of my bed to feed the other invalids.  I felt like a baby tiger looking at all the people scoffing burgers outside the enclosure whilst I sat under a sign clearly marked; DO NOT FEED THE ANIMALS.

The next couple of days blend into one constant loop of having my blood pressure checked and being wheeled off for various ultra-sounds and MRI scans.  Poor Sam visited me for as long as he could but they would send him away at meal times, despite me usually not being allowed to eat and again at 10pm so I could sleep.  Fat chance of that.  I've never had a more uncomfortable night in my life.  And I've slept on a conservatory room floor.  

On Monday Sam had to check out of the hotel, so he spent the day with me in the hospital whilst I pestered the doctors to sort themselves out because we needed to get home.  Not that they paid any attention.  Maybe the accent barrier made things more complicated.  You know how a doctor uses complicated medical terms that you don't really understand and you're forced to ask them to "speak English, Doc"?  Well imagine that with a thick Scottish accent on top too.  Conversations were a question of endurance of your mental capacity as you tried to decipher what the fuck was truly going on.

I was tired, I was ill, I was yellow from the jaundice and I was fed up.  So I had no choice but to self discharge and return home.

Again I slept most of the way home as Sam drove us home and we had a night in our own bed, knowing that nothing productive would get done at that time of the morning in the hospital. When I woke up I got dressed in jogging bottoms and slippers because they'd clearly keep me in once we explained everything to them, and we headed to the Heath.  

Eight hours later, I'd been poked with fingers and needles, had multiple tests and the final outcome was...  they agreed.  It was definitely gallstones.  Hurrah.
The Glasgow hospital was refusing to send the results of their scans over so I was sent home with a goody bag of pills and told to return the next day for yet another ultrasound...

All Things Scotland...

Wow, what a mad week it's been! There have been highs and lows and some unexpected ventures all in the space of ten days or so.  The highlight however, has to be my (long-awaited) weekend away to Glasgow for BlytheCon.  It was brilliant!

We left Thursday morning for our long drive, its approximately eight hours to Scotland from home so we left at about 4am, to try and arrive at lunch time.  I'd been working all week so I was exhausted and I'm ashamed to say I slept for most of the journey - leaving Sam with just Radio 1 for company as he drove.  Some road trip eh?

Now a little back story is necessary here; I had woken up in the middle of the night on Monday with really bad stomach cramps which had been coming back on-and-off all week.  I'd taken all of the painkillers and Rennie's a woman could handle and had no idea what was wrong but knowing I couldn't fit in a trip to the doctors before we left, I decided to ride it out and I'd book an appointment when we got back if I was still suffering.

So we pull up to the hotel, it was a gorgeous little place called The Swallow.  It didn't look much from the outside but on the inside it was decorated beautifully and seemed quite up-market.  I was really impressed.  Sam woke me up to say we'd arrived and the cramps started getting much worse, to the point that I was almost in tears.  We decided to head inside for directions to the nearest hospital to get it checked out, plus we were two hours early to check-in anyway.

While Sam got the directions, I popped into the toilet which again was decorated gorgeously.  If I hadn't have felt so awful I'd definitely have been taking a few selfies in there!  Everything was purple and luxe looking.  There was even a bench which I lay on for a few moments as I came over really faint.  Once I'd gotten myself together we drove to the hospital.

I threw up twice as we got there.  Fortunately we didn't have to wait too long until I was called in.  The doctor in charge ran one test, molested my stomach for a bit and brushed it off as my muscles spasming.  He gave me some tablets to take over the next two days and sent us on our way back to the hotel.

The pain had subsided a little bit so I got some sleep and the next morning we were able to head out into Glasgow.  We took the Underground into the city. *Fun fact: Glasgow has one of the UK's oldest underground systems.  However, everything looked completely brand new and it was such a smooth ride it was great!  I would definitely recommend it to get around.

We pottered around the city, doing some shopping and stopped off in a bar for some lunch which was really nice.  We decided to go back to the hotel about 5ish, to get changed and then head back into town to have a night out in one of the clubs, because who doesn't love a drink when they're on holiday?  When we got back I had a cheeky nap as I felt really drained, but when I woke up my stomach was hurting again.  So with heavy hearts, we decided against clubbing.  Instead we went for a drive to find a restaurant.

We drove in the opposite direction of the town and found a little street that had some boutiques and take-aways on it.  Right in the middle was a really sweet looking Italian restaurant - my favourite!

We were sat in a little dug-out in the wall that acted as a booth.  It was really quirky - the lampshades were even covered in newspaper and beads!

The meal was gorgeous too.  If I ever return to Glasgow I'd definitely revisit.  The waitresses and the chef were really friendly and giving fun banter to each other.  It was just my sort of place.

These were the awesome plates our meal came out on.  Custom plates - how cool and professional is that?!

So after dinner we headed back to bed because we had an early morning Saturday for BlytheCon!  We got the underground into town again and went to The Lighthouse - which was the name of the venue.  It was quite sleek and sophisticated... until you got upstairs, where it was over run with dolls!  It was fabulous!

We both got a goody bag when we arrived and were ushered into the main room, which had all of the stalls in.  There, I was able to buy lots of little outfits and accessories for Celia, (my Blythe doll which Sam had bought me for my birthday, knowing how desperately I wanted one - he's really rather well trained.)  I also bought lots of cute fabrics so that I could try making outfits of my own. 

People had their Blythe dolls on display; some to show off what they had done and some to sell.  It was amazing to see how far people go with this hobby...

 How gorgeous is this African lion princess??

 I love the detailed paintings on her eyelids

They were all adorable.  I wish I was nearly this talented!

There were workshops running all day that taught techniques for customising Blythe and making her clothes.  I only made it to one of these, which taught us how to make her a cute pencil skirt.  It was fun to come away having produced something, rather than just shopping.

At the end of the day they raffled off literally hundreds of Blythe related prices which unfortunately I didn't win.  I'd started feeling a little rough again so we decided to head to the hotel so I could nap.  Then hopefully we could go to the BlytheCon after party that was being held that evening.

It was an amazing day and I literally can't wait for next year, when hopefully I'll be healthier and up to meeting more of the other collector's that were walking around.  Scotland is rapidly winning a place in my heart.