Blue skies, trees swaying gently in the autumn breeze and the occasional cry of a Timberland & Jogging pant-clad Gatesheadian provide the backdrop to this afternoon’s update.
Rachel’s reaction to the Phenytoin has calmed following a “bit of a bugger of a night”, leaving a small amount of swelling and soreness. It transpires that the original dose was sub-therapeutic, registering a measly 3 vs an expected 10-20 (scale unknown, but a poor performance nonetheless). Now that Rach is on an increased regular dose, the “trough” test will be re-run later this afternoon with, hopefully, a seizure-cessating score. Continue reading “Hail Seizer!”
Good [insert time zone specific salutation]
Despite increasing one of Rach’s anti-seizure meds, she continues to have relatively mild, short seizures every couple of hours or so. Rachel is currently hooked up to that most desirable of hospital-bound smoker’s accessory: a drip, to deliver an increased dose of her second seizure medication. We’re hoping that this will get the seizures under control “toot-sweet” and we can once again focus our attention on restoring movement in her right leg. Continue reading “You can’t handle the Phenytoin”
First, an update on this fine Sunday morning (I’ve actually got no idea if it’s fine as the curtains are still closed, but I’m going to imagine a crisp autumn day perfect for leaf-peeping).
Since the brief seizure at 4pm yesterday, I’ve had at least five further brief seizures, including a couple overnight. The feelings that warn me that seizures are brewing have thankfully been lasting longer than the seizures themselves. Equally as good, the seizures have not been as dramatic as the Dr Strangelove affairs of a month ago. Continue reading “Shake, Prattle ‘N Stroll”
After over four weeks without a seizure, the Immigrant must have been saving up for a doozy. At 7 o’clock this morning I was rudely awoken with a familiar right-sided focal seizure. It lasted over two hours. An ambulance came first followed by the paramedics in a car. I was injected with a sedative at home before they put me in the ambulance. Blue flashing lights took me all the way to the QE hospital travelling at the speed of light…the only casualty being the ambulance’s exhaust, which came off. So whilst looking after me, the paramedic also had to report the incident to the Traffic Police! Continue reading “The Seizures Strike Back”
I’m not sure if I’ve already mentioned that Mr H believes, based on the Immigrant’s size and type, that it moved in with me at least three years ago. I was still on maternity leave with Jennifer three years ago. There’s a certain symmetry (in my pattern-seeking brain) that the Squatter probably started to grow during one maternity leave and was uncovered during another.
In all likelihood, we therefore have two threenagers living with us. One, a much-loved and cherished daughter who goes by names such as Jennifer, Jennifer Bear, Jenny Bear, Jen-Jen and Jen-Jenneroony, brings so much joy to us. In addition to thousands of golden moments in her short life to date, recently she has been such a star. She takes hold of my hand to help me up the stairs or into the bathroom. She asked Graham the other night why I wasn’t sleeping at home. He explained that I am sleeping at Grandma’s house because, with my poorly leg, it’s easier for me to use the downstairs bathroom and bedroom. Jennifer told Graham that we need to find a new house with a downstairs bathroom for Mammy and suggested that “we should stick our house on to Grandma’s”. Continue reading “Threenage Mutant Ninja Tumour”
Mr H and his A(wake)-Team are booked in for their postponed match against the Squatter. Here’s a reminder of what I could have won on Thursday: Hannibal-style “Awake” surgery (further details here but key highlights include the use of a jigsaw for my skull and my head being bolted to the table).
To add a touch of drama, this already-surreal-sounding brain surgery will now take place on Halloween 🎃 👻. While, on the one hand, it’s all a bit too obvious, I can’t stop my overactive imagination running away with the spoon. I mean, Howay Man, Woman Man, the script practically writes itself for the Lloyd-Webber megamix equivalent of a Halloween B-movie. Continue reading “Match Rescheduled: Mr H, Halloween and Hotel HDU”
A few strange events have recently brought home to me that the Squatter has already been a life-changing event for me and those around me:
- Last week, an Australian Immigrant gave me the last of his TimTams, which had been brought over especially for him:
- My hubby has only recently been able to tolerate a trip to the Metro Centre without complaining about the “soul-less”, “air-less”, “natural light-less”, “Fenwicks-less”, and “[insert any other Newcastle attribute]-less” “abomination”. A lot of his hostility stems from a feeling that supporting our local shopping precinct is a betrayal of both his hometown and the company (his employer for over six years until last year) dedicated to improving The Toon. Today, however, the same man practically bundled me into the car and skipped into the Metro Centre in excitement as he wheeled me around for my first shopping trip since August.
- Even more worrying, Mr C noted with disappointment at the end of our trip that we hadn’t spent as much money as usual. He had tried unsuccessfully to persuade me to buy an iWatch to replace the 12-year old watch I had broken in the MRI machine last week. Mrs Fiscally Responsible, the subject of fewer confirmed sightings than Nessie, held firm.
- Tomorrow is Alien Day at nursery so we had obviously left it until today to try to find appropriate outfits. We couldn’t find Yoda, Chewbacca or other alien costumes (Star Wars or otherwise) in the right sizes. We ended up with a Minions onesie for Jennifer even though: (a) Jennifer doesn’t even know who the Minions are (and wasn’t impressed by the YouTube clips I showed her this evening); and (b) a quick Google search before we bought it suggested that they are not even aliens. I didn’t have the energy to live up to my own pedantic standards. If it’s any consolation for Jennifer, Leo came off worse: we couldn’t find anything in his size that was even tenuously linked to aliens, so he’s going to have to make do with the superman vest he already has.