Nothing new with me really.
My niece is about 8 - 9 (on February 3) months and is doing great.
I've signed up for TAFE. Cert 1 in Information and Technology or such... it has to do with Computers.
My pony is still alive (HA, haven't killed her yet as many thought I would).
Haven't written ANYTHING in last few years.... but want to start again.
New obsessions are Lucifer, Bravest Warriors and Voltron.
Oh, and the kidney is doing fine, will celebrate my 5th year with her on the 15th.
And I no longer know how to use Livejournal.
Sister had a baby, Grace Elizabeth O'Neil, born 4 weeks premi, and today would have been her *real* birthday. Baby and mum are doing very well.
I'm doing great..... though had a fucking weird thing happen, my two best mates proposed to me. Unfortunately, I don't have any of those feelings for them and other issues I won't discuss in public.
Also... I'm broke and my Washing Machine, Dryer AND Vacuum Cleaner all died.
So a few guild mates from my warcraft game did this.https://www.gofundme.com/2b28f6s4
Yes, shameless plug.
So... It's been over a year since I updated this blog.
Well, short order of point, here's what has happened.
- I turned 29 on Saturday (April 2nd).
- I'm addicted to new TV shows.
- I'm trying to be more social, which seems to be working, no boyfriend yet.
- Kidney is going strong, but I'm like 74kgs.
- I'm no longer using a walker or a cane to get around, stairs still suck though.
- I seem to have gotten over most of my mental issues, just kept raising the dose of my meds till I dinged 'happy spot'. I can use my CPAP with no trouble anymore, but instead I faint at the sight of needles now.
- I'm going to become an aunty in June/July with a niece on the way (my sister who was told she would never get pregnant naturally.... Got pregnant naturally).
- I jumped the deep end and bought myself a pony. Her name is Ellie, she is 12hh, 15 years old and a Welsh Mountain Pony who is just the sweetest thing on this earth. I have no Tack, so... Haven't been able to ride her (yes, I HAVE ridden her before I bought her, she belonged to a friend).
Um... Yeah... Not much and everything has changed for me.
"Why is she bothering for a third transplant?"
Those eight words, uttered by a nurse during morning changeover while I was going through kidney failure, for some reason still come flooding back to me five years later. And they make me feel intensely guilty for wanting to live.
Funny how I see all other organ recipients as more than worthy of their organs (okay, bar one or two as they only abused the gift of love through drinking, heavy drugs and not taking medication 'because it oppressed them'... But they're dead now,) and see myself as a waste of space.
Bad thing is since my recovery from pneumonia I cannot sleep with my CPAP machine anymore and wake thinking I'm back in ICU and the nightmare didn't end. Mum has said it's disturbing to hear someone screaming for help while having oxygen forced down their windpipe.
And have jokingly been told I'm probably suffering PTSD from the flashbacks that will literally have me sobbing in the middle of Woolworths or the food service area in the main shopping centre. I remember being held down, the nurses being fucking cruel ('She knows what'll happen if she moves,') and not knowing what was real for 3 fucking months because of the drugs they had me on.
Yes, I realise I need help, but everybody is treating it as a joke, even the mental health department and 'councilors' in and around Orange.
No wonder I've gone back to wanting to drink again.
Holy shit, I'm 28 on Thursday....
And seriously, no one wants to go out for drinks. So, guess I'll just go and drink by myself.
Yay for me.
Lots of people talking about Robin Williams and his passing. I sadly think it was a combination of long term depression and his diagnosis, which, despite Michael J. Fox and his foundation, I can imagine a man who literally threw himself around stage go; 'I don't want that to be me...' Jokes and laughter can take you so far before it again becomes a load on your back and shoulders.
Sorry, rambling, but the only thing that went through my mind when I heard it was suicide was the scene from Hook of Rufio screaming that Peter Pan was 'a stupid stupid man'.
Your childhood heroes aren't meant to be mortal and even more so when they were there when everything was shit and his dark humor helped shape your own outlook on life.
And I know it's selfish to say, but I hope to god Stephen Fry is being strong as I heard he'd been battling depression again.
Again, sorry, just my thoughts even if they're mixed and random.
And my arm still bloody hurts, doesn't help it's swollen three times its size. I fucking hate this shit.... Can't I be well already?
So, I've had a shit week and not sure whether I wanna cry constantly (which I'm doing heaps of.... In my bedroom, by myself so to not bring the daily down) or just lay down and die.
Got a call from the head dialysis nurse Michelle Manning, she does post-transplant appointments and so forth for patients. She literally does separate jobs that in a city hospital would have 3 people to do it, that I'm going to Auburn hospital to have my fistula operated on.
What was wrong is that it was clotted and was a stroke and heart attack waiting to happen. To give you an idea of how much I need it, I literally have no viable veins or arteries anymore that won't collapse when a needle is inserted. When I had my transplant they had to insert a cannula into my left jugular so they could have some access to give me saline, drugs and other things. And I know how bad they are as I've had them ultrasounded and then MRI'ed with dye,
Anyway, I go to Auburn hospital on Tuesday to have it operated on. 1st part was to have the blood clot removed. That went smoothly and everybody went 'yay'.
The second part was when things started fucking up and pretty damn fast...
I don't know how they narrow fistulas and I honestly don't care, but apparently from the moment Dr Swinnen went in he had a shit load of problems during the second half. The fistula/artery is pretty much screwed and useless for high pressure dialysis and as he worked with it, the artery literally began to disintegrate as he moved it around and such. He had to work fast and luckily he was able to fix it. But it looks like I have no workable fistula that can take the pressure needed for dialysis for the moment.
Then the skin didn't want to be sewed together and kept coming undone, so now I have a horrific 'puckered' scar up my arm.
The other shit thing is that the nurses tried to do a fucking bait and switch on me. I have no pain tolerance anymore and having your arm sliced and diced along with having muscle pulled and torn fucking HURTS! So, like anybody I asked for pain med and I wanted the strong shit. "Ok, we'll, give you 10mg of Endone." However instead of fucking Endone.... I get panadole.
I don't know why, but something snapped and I kind of went nutso. No, I didn't hit any nurses or doctor, but I hate being fucking lied to and expected to get over it when I find the truth out. That and the fact that I was meant to be in hospital for a few days specifically for the pain and instead they kicked me out the next morning with hardly any bloody pain meds.
Shouldn't have fucking bothered with this operation..... I'm sick of them giving me crap low dosage of pain meds, so I have to keep making appointments with my GP for the meds. And yes, I know I sound like a damn drug addict, but, and no offense, I don't give a fuck no more. Reality sucks, something in my body always bloody hurts whether muscle, stomach, or my back and I've had enough. It's either pain meds, booze or weed. Booze makes me sick and is expansive, pot is illegal and I no longer believe 'positive thinking' does fucking shit as does prayers or such.
No pain meds, artery/fistula is useless and dear sweet god the pain and the further disfigurement of my arm has me feeling like a damn freak... I just want to crawl into a hole and never make human contact again.
So, I kind of my wish that if this kidney fails there's no fall back plan, and when that happens I know exactly how gonna end.
But, right to this moment, I'm gonna sit in the lounge room and watch Persons of Interest.
Got kicked out of hospital despite not having pain management under control. Friggen nurses tried to do a dirty on me by giving me Panadole instead of Endone, then denied they'd done only for me to continue to demand 'proper pain meds' then I was magically given Endone.
I bloody know the taste of both tablets! And I've just had my entire friggen arm sliced open, the artery narrowed and a blood clot removed.
Then I find out from Dr Swinnen that he had heaps of problems during the operation. The fistula/artery is pretty much screwed and useless now and tried to disintegrate as Dr Swinnen worked on it, no idea how he fixed it, but he said it's lucky nothing's happened. So, looks like I have no dialysis sites anymore.
Then skin didn't want to be sewed together and kept coming undone, so now I have a horrific 'puckered' scar up my arm.
Shouldn't have bloody bothered... No pain meds, artery/fistula is useless and dear sweet god the pain and the further disfigurement of my arm has me feeling like a damn freak... Just want to crawl into a hole and never make human contact again.
So... Went and saw my vascular surgeon, Dr Swinnen, today and basically my veins and arteries are a clusterfuck.
The fistula has a clot that runs through it and is taking up half the diameter, so am being put on a list to get operated on within the next three months, (hahahaha, yeah, I'll double that to six) to have it the clot manually taken out.
Had the distinct impression the nurses and doctors want me sent to Westmead rather than use their resources up here.... "She can travel to Sydney, .... Sydney would be a good option, we'll see what Sydney wants."
Fine by me, your surgeons up here suck anyway.
So? Where's my sympathy kitten/world holiday? (I'm JOKING - I don't expect anything!)