On a personal note

Or rather collection of random notes from the last three days. I had a bit of a week…

Three years ago I was once again at the  physio, once again lower back pain, and yes there is damage from a car crash, but she said: something isn’t right do you mind if I check your abdominal area.
Not at all.
There do you feel this?
Big lump.
She says it feels like fibroids but get this checked out as son as you can.
Immediate call to GP, she checks as well, suddenly surrounded by three people, urgent scan scheduled.
The C word fear hanging over me.
A month later it’s multiple fibroids, biggest at the time 10,5cm oh yeah so people have bled to death from this before. But no one gives you advice can I go mountain biking, hiking, swimming what’s the deal?

Three years until operation I have a pile of paperwork and communication with the NHS that is heavier than I am currently permitted to lift. Visit to private Gyn included, post COVID waiting for Gyn appointment was 2 years. NHS refuses to recognise recommendations from private Gyn. Then I get a guy who tells me to suck it up buttercup and discourages operation. He never heard of any of the fibroid research of the last 15 years. I have waited 2 years for that! I am furious, I had time and access to pubmed. I complain get a new Gyn. Thank the maker. You need to advocate for yourself. You really do. This is your body. Your life. Your health. Don’t self-victimise. Ask questions, ask for time lines, ask for options, if someone gaslights you go back to your GP and ask to see another consultant.

But be mindful. Yes, there are some consultants that should not work with human ware, but in principle the medical staff are just as stuck and trying to work with the system as the patients. If you want to complain write to your local NHS board, write to your MP/MSP. Don’t yell at nurses and receptionists. That’s not where the power lies.

By the way if you are waiting: you have the right to get treatment done in another country in Europe if waiting list is undue long. I explored this: Glasgow Greater Clyde NHS only has one very harassed person who deals with this. In the end I can’t fathom being stuck away from home for two months.

And no it’s not the type of fibroid you can key hole surgery snip off. I have to have the whole turkey stuffing removed. The nurse laughs. Best description ever. Being in the gyn ward is great. They understand. The other patients understand. The nurses are ace! Big shout out to ward 56.

I meet one young woman ten years until she had her diagnosis: Endometriosis. She, another woman, the nurse and I rant about the state of healthcare for women. If you don’t know look it up, there is enough research, YouTube videos whatever. It’s a thing. It’s cultural, historic and women are treated differently. Don’t comment with what about–or thereabouts–because all you do is show your ignorance. Thank you for listening to my Ted talk.

I had a disc injury because pressure on my spine and muscles over compensating my physio reckons. I am privileged, I could afford to pay for private physio to get my disc back to where it was supposed to be. The locum doctor that day did the disc injury test with me, which I failed, she never said anything, gave me a diagnosis nothing, she just told me to self refer to physio but it’s 2 years waiting list. No sick note, no advice, nothing. My immune system was completely screwed (there is research now evidencing the impact of fibroids on immune system and heighten risk for cardio vascular desease) I spare you all the other symptoms of gore galore. Pain is neither here nor there I have a high pain threshold so pain simply becomes the soundtrack of your life.

When I woke up from surgery, I felt relief, pain and hunger. In that order. I am 3kg lighter.

Everyone smiles and nods when I say who  my surgeon is. I had a great team. My oldest niece (medical profession) was seriously impressed with how good my scar looks on day three. I said I think I had the best surgeons. She said she believes it; that is a seriously good looking scar.
Never mind the bruises.

I have nothing to do to distract me from my bored pain but observe the ebb and flow of the ward. The context switching nurses and auxiliary nurses deal with is insane. It does not help that they then have to waste time hunting for machines that won’t work, thermometers, and the new supply of gloves is subpar and keeps tearing. Not good if you work on personal care! It started as one nurse thinking they had an issue today, and then everyone beginning to talk about how the new gloves keep tearing. The NHS management needs to do better. Seriously, get some systemic OD folk in. Help your staff make their job easier, take some stress out of the system.

The food in hospital is despicable I don’t think in my worst junk food days, which basically translates to a lot of pasta, cheese, apples and chocolate have I ever eaten so unhealthy.

Also NHS catering listen: you are (also) feeding patients who are out of surgery. Gas is a problem. Gas causes vomiting, severe pain in right side just below your rips, pain in abdominal scars etc… And there is fucking lentil soup every day for lunch. You cannot make this up.

There are so many additives in the sandwiches I am not entirely sure any flour was involved. There is thin white bread, margerine (hello cardio vascular desease… you will love the hydrogenated fats particularly good for patients who just had stroke or heart attack), a slice of indistinguishable filling, no salad, no tomato, no fruit, no veg–but the infamous lentil soup, and no taste. I am constantly hungry, they ask me if I am diabetic because I am constantly hungry.

How do I even respond?
Breakfast a tiny bowl of cereal (I ask for two) again no fruit, no juice, not even alternative milk, so hello more gas to deal with. More nausea. More pain on my scar.

I have halfed my pain meds since I am home simply because of the change in diet, less gas, less pain, less nausea. I mean it’s not rocket science. My other half says people in prison get better food than people in hospital.

One of my nieces asks for my room number she is serious about Uber Eating breakfast my way. Apparently, that’s what you do in Nigeria.

When I woke up from surgery I felt relief, scar pain, and hunger pains. Got toast and super sugary tea to ship me over as I was dizzy from hunger and drug cocktail. The staff are lovely. Seriously, all of them.

No, I am not diabetic they keep asking me. Are they so unaware off the stuff they give us to eat?
Breakfast has a third of my normal breakie calories, if that. Breakfast is sacred in my family.

Besides I always had a high metabolism usually around 2200 to 2400 kcal a day. When I exercise, more. Why do they keep asking me if I am diabetic just because I am hungry after eating sandwich with the nutritional value of cardboard and a huge surgery. Did I mention no fruit, no veg. Not even some darn grated carrots. I mean carrots are cheap. Come on anything?

Anyway, I had thought about writing a big old rant about the state of women’s health but find I have no energy to go into all the sordid details. Apparently, this Saxon is still hangry.

So before I complain about lentil soup one more time. Here is a big thank you to team Ward 56 and the surgical team.
Did I mention I am 3kg lighter? I am benched for 2 months. Won’t be back mountain biking until 12 weeks. But can go back swimming week 6. Meanwhile I waddle around until the waddle turns into walk. Not the frist time I start again. Onwards and upwards.