Hospital

I suffer from ulcerative colitis.  I've hardly been in remission since I was diagnosed 15 years ago but I thought I was doing really well until they decided that my medication was at a high risk of causing liver damage because of the silly way my body metabolises it.  So it got changed and I got a really bad flare up and was in hospital for over a week.

I have to say that out of all my hospital visits it was the most pleasant.  There was NO queue at a&e (that was quite shocking with it being a bank holiday weekend but I guess the DIY accident prone crowd aren't as active in central London) and I was in a ward within 2 hours of walking in the door.
I did feel a bit like I was in an episode of House, as the attack came on so quickly they decided that I must have had an infection, then as my blood work was coming back still squiffy it must be some sort of virus.  So 2 days of IV antibiotics followed by 6 of IV steroids and the start of a course of anti-virals before they decided that the underlying cause probably didn't matter afterall so just to stick with the tried and tested steroids until my flare was under control and I could go home.
They put me in isolation for the first few days, which was quite nice but I was glad to be in a ward with people to talk to.  Unfortunately the old lady in the bed opposite me died in her sleep that first night.  She was meant to have gone home that day.
I'm feeling that this is not sounding as pleasant a stay as I innitially intended it to but I really needed the break.  In hindsight, I probably hadn't recovered from being ill over Easter.  The year 13s were coming up to their exam so I really pushed myself to be at work before I should have and kept going through the side effects of my new meds.  Being actually stuck in the hospital meant I couldn't feel bad about doing nothing.  I missed the exam in the end but as I had done all the prep the week before a teacher managed to cover me and it went well.
Still off work, my head is like cotton wool, feeling light headed verging on dizzy half of the time, hoping it's a side effect that will wear off soon.
Emotionally I've been a bit all over the place.  It just seems a never ending stream of drama at the moment.

To top it all off my gran is starting chemotherapy tomorrow.

Here's to a peaceful patch!

On My First Son

On My First Sonby Ben Jonson


Farewell, thou child of my right hand, and joy ;
    My sin was too much hope of thee, lov'd boy.
Seven years thou wert lent to me, and I thee pay,
    Exacted by thy fate, on the just day.
Oh, could I lose all father now! For why
    Will man lament the state he should envy?
To have so soon 'scaped world's and flesh's rage,
    And if no other misery, yet age!
Rest in soft peace, and, asked, say, Here doth lie
    Ben Jonson his best piece of poetry.
For whose sake henceforth all his vows be such
    As what he loves may never like too much.

For Griff

It's almost like you never were
and all a big bad dream
If only I could waken up
but then you'd not have been.

I couldn't wish your life away
however short it was
and that's the trap I'm living in
because there is such hurt

The hurt and pain won't go away
I don't want them to
When the story's said and done
It's all I have of you

My heart is still in tiny bits
it's often all I feel
I say again, again again
How can this be real?

Hormonally Sound

It's official.  My hormones are in lovely balance.  I'm not early menopausal, don't have PCOS, am ovulating alright and don't have high testosterone or low estrogen levels.

So why am I having such irregular (and stupidly long) cycles?  It's a mystery.  I'll be getting a scan at some point in the next few months but my GP doesn't expect it to reveal anything.  To be honest, I don't think she'd have sent me for a scan if I hadn't had a loss.  Not this early in investigations anyway.  She seemed rather unconcerned but I guess that's how they stop patients from getting stressed unnecessarily.

I'm concerned.  Maybe that's part of the problem.  Living under constant stress can put one's cycle off and living without one's child is pretty damn stressful so maybe it is just stress.  I am happy that there is no problem there but it's frustrating that my body isn't behaving itself for no apparent reason.

These last three weeks have been so long.  Since Griffin's birthday, it feels like the days have dragged, but I don't know where they have gone.  It feels like forever and no time at all.  In fact it all feels like forever and no time at all.  I guess that's normal because I've read similar in other blogs.

I don't know what to make of it all but the anti anxiety drugs I started a couple of weeks back have started to kick in so I'm hoping my anxiety and stress will reduce to manageable levels and I can actually think straight.

On a lighter note I heard a guy in a cafe telling a child (about 9) how he wasn't going to be allowed sweets in the house any more when his little brother was born because they wanted to teach the younger one that raisins were sweets.  So the older brother would have to go outside to eat sweets and to hide them in the bottom of his bag if he had to bring them in the house.

I couldn't help but draw the comparison to smoking, obviously Haribo is the new drug that all the cool kids are doing.

Angel Day

I never contemplated the possibility that my baby might die.  Even when I'd been told about having obstetric cholestasis, it was under control.  There was another couple of weeks before I was in the 'danger zone'.  I was taking the medication and scheduled for induction at 37 weeks.

I was worried about having an actual baby to look after, I was getting really stressed that I hadn't packed my hospital bag yet and about how I didn't have a car seat so I wouldn't be able to get him home.  I'd put off buying things cos I was overwhelmed about what to buy and was worried about spending too much money on stuff.  I was worried about the pain of labour and if I'd be able to breastfeed.  You can imagine the things I worried about but never at any point did not having a live baby.

Even at the point of being at the hospital, one midwife had been concerned about his heart rate, being whisked in for a scan and them saying that his heart didn't sound right.  Even when I asked if I should phone my husband and get him in and they said yes.  Being rushed down to labour ward.  I did think that they'd be taking him out quick smart but that he'd be alive.  I was really worried that he'd be ill, that he wasn't ready to be born, that he'd have to be in SCBU.  My baby sister was born dead at 29 weeks and resuscitated and is a happy healthy 10 year old now.  Babies don't just die.  Otherwise healthy babies don't just die.

I feel naive, that I should have realised that he was dead.  How can I have a dead person inside me and not know?  How could I not realise that I was having contractions for hours?  Even before I left the hospital that morning where I had been for a blood test I was already in labour.  If I had stayed at the hospital or said something I might not be writing this now.  I might be preparing for a first birthday party with baby sick in my hair.  A little ginger monster toddling around and not sleeping for days on end.  I was so worried about not being ready for a small person but I was so much more prepared for that than this.

So now I commemorate his all too short life on the anniversary of his death.

See you in heaven wee man