Permission to hide under blanket please

It is 0700 hours and at last Mrs Titanic is soundly asleep. Sadly for the wonky warrior, it is the time when the ward wakes up.





Luckily for me its the nice nurse to help me get dressed and I did try and manage small talk and not to be too grumpy about the lack of food, rubbish quality sleep and Mrs Titanic who looks totally incapable of the previous nights antics.


Before breakfast Dr Smooth pays me a visit and asks around things before heading for the main reason they have sent the smoothest member of the rheummy team here- for my decision over the death defying stunt which involves stabbing me with toxic substances in the vague hope that I am not allergic to it. Believe me, sailing over the rapids with Mrs Titanic at the helm would be less risky.





After 4 literally life threatening attempts at Biological drug treatments alongside all the countless other nameless ones that work for everyone else but me it seems, I don't hold out much hope of success.





Playing for more time, I send Dr Smooth to refer me to see dermatology in the hope it will resolve the hardness and lack of movement in my legs. Clinging to the hope that the dermatology team will say "Oh Yes! That is Leggy Lumpy Lurgy, apply this cream and it will go, actually it will cure all immune system disorders!" I settle down and wait for the weetabix to arrive on the breakfast trolley.





Now, my fellow readers, I know that I have more chance of discovering a long lost pet Indian elephant called Gerald at the nurses station, but I never cease to be slightly disappointed that there is no immediate miracle cure.





When dermatology do arrive, later that day they have a glance, don't really make time to examine me properly and declare that as I had a previous investigation (somewhere entirely differently for entirely different symptoms) that it is all part of inflammatory processes in my skin and fat layers. When I comment tearfully about not being able to stand/ walk the "helpful" dermatologist asks whether I have seen a "joint doctor" about that......

Through gritted teeth I mutter "I have seen them" what I mean to say is "Who do you think referred me you dullards??!!"



Dermatology leave, I wipe the tears dripping off my chin and look up to see it is 11am and Mrs Titanic is just starting to wake up.




Dr Smooth can hardly contain himself, hot on the heels of the dermatologist he zips in with another Dr, we shall name Dr Fly-by-night. Dr Fly-By-Night is a Dr who is doing rheumatology because he "has to" as it is "not exactly cut and thrust" he is under the category of Dr's that "Daddy paid for through college" and provokes a very strong SLAP REFLEX in your intrepid wonky warrior.



Sadly for Dr Smooth and Dr Fly-By-Night, I am so deflated by lack of miracle cream application and confirmation of the fact that every single cell of my body is being chewed to bits by this AWFUL immune disease, I open up and give them both barrels.

Repeating the "see a joint doctor" comment to 2 Drs who suddenly find their pens very interesting and as they turn to go I blurt out...

"Its like the old woolworths in here- its never YOUR department is it?!"

They reply they will be back in the morning to discuss my questions and see the Dr Big Chief. They explain that the options are palliative care, full chemotherapy, bone marrow transplant or the new drug Cimzia.

Hmmmmm.

Permission to hide under blanket please.....

0 comments:

Permission to hide under blanket please

It is 0700 hours and at last Mrs Titanic is soundly asleep. Sadly for the wonky warrior, it is the time when the ward wakes up.





Luckily for me its the nice nurse to help me get dressed and I did try and manage small talk and not to be too grumpy about the lack of food, rubbish quality sleep and Mrs Titanic who looks totally incapable of the previous nights antics.


Before breakfast Dr Smooth pays me a visit and asks around things before heading for the main reason they have sent the smoothest member of the rheummy team here- for my decision over the death defying stunt which involves stabbing me with toxic substances in the vague hope that I am not allergic to it. Believe me, sailing over the rapids with Mrs Titanic at the helm would be less risky.





After 4 literally life threatening attempts at Biological drug treatments alongside all the countless other nameless ones that work for everyone else but me it seems, I don't hold out much hope of success.





Playing for more time, I send Dr Smooth to refer me to see dermatology in the hope it will resolve the hardness and lack of movement in my legs. Clinging to the hope that the dermatology team will say "Oh Yes! That is Leggy Lumpy Lurgy, apply this cream and it will go, actually it will cure all immune system disorders!" I settle down and wait for the weetabix to arrive on the breakfast trolley.





Now, my fellow readers, I know that I have more chance of discovering a long lost pet Indian elephant called Gerald at the nurses station, but I never cease to be slightly disappointed that there is no immediate miracle cure.





When dermatology do arrive, later that day they have a glance, don't really make time to examine me properly and declare that as I had a previous investigation (somewhere entirely differently for entirely different symptoms) that it is all part of inflammatory processes in my skin and fat layers. When I comment tearfully about not being able to stand/ walk the "helpful" dermatologist asks whether I have seen a "joint doctor" about that......

Through gritted teeth I mutter "I have seen them" what I mean to say is "Who do you think referred me you dullards??!!"



Dermatology leave, I wipe the tears dripping off my chin and look up to see it is 11am and Mrs Titanic is just starting to wake up.




Dr Smooth can hardly contain himself, hot on the heels of the dermatologist he zips in with another Dr, we shall name Dr Fly-by-night. Dr Fly-By-Night is a Dr who is doing rheumatology because he "has to" as it is "not exactly cut and thrust" he is under the category of Dr's that "Daddy paid for through college" and provokes a very strong SLAP REFLEX in your intrepid wonky warrior.



Sadly for Dr Smooth and Dr Fly-By-Night, I am so deflated by lack of miracle cream application and confirmation of the fact that every single cell of my body is being chewed to bits by this AWFUL immune disease, I open up and give them both barrels.

Repeating the "see a joint doctor" comment to 2 Drs who suddenly find their pens very interesting and as they turn to go I blurt out...

"Its like the old woolworths in here- its never YOUR department is it?!"

They reply they will be back in the morning to discuss my questions and see the Dr Big Chief. They explain that the options are palliative care, full chemotherapy, bone marrow transplant or the new drug Cimzia.

Hmmmmm.

Permission to hide under blanket please.....

No comments: