| PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT |
[Jan. 13th, 2007|07:46 pm] |
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As a Gentleman and a Scholar, well Gentleman at least. I feel duty bound to inform the community that little_bounce's Orange, Lemon and Tangerine cake should be the subject of weekly worship. |
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| 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 |
[Jan. 7th, 2007|03:07 pm] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | HUG | ] |
| [ | mood |
| |  blah | ] |
Well, it looks as though the whole gang is back on form and on-line after the end-of-year festivities and travels.
My first contribution for this year is a little morbid, I'm afraid. I'm once more in the middle of a reject; worse that the last one. I've learned that there is a scale of gravity for organ rejection. It goes from 1 to 5. 1 is where you just roll over and go back to sleep. 5 is when you get to chose the colour and style of your coffin. This reject is a 4.
I'm getting used to it. There's the initial fever and shivers and body pain, which once having been identified as being a reject, they go down your throat with a spotlight and mechanical shovel and retrieve a sample of lung tissue for further examination in lab conditions. They count the number of white cells per square mm to get the rejection scale, and then attack the symptoms with lotsa lovely drugs. Mega doses of cortico steroids, which I'm beginning to appreciate as they act as a kind of upper. The antibiotics play havoc with the digestive system, but that also is something to get used to.
On a more positive note, my assisted walking has reached 100 meters per day, which is quite good. Totally exhausting, but satisfying at the same time. My calves no longer look like they belong to a sparrow, although my thighs still do. Things are slowly coming together.
I spoke to a woman the other day who went through a similar experience two years ago, and she is living a normal happy life. Comes in for a three-month check up and swallows dozens of pills per day, but she says her life has completely changed. She was 9 months in hospital.
In other news the SDFH delivered baby Luke on the 28th December at 18:03, weighing 3.6 kilos and measuring 53 cm. A future rugby-man and/or sumo wrestler. I have a photo, but shan't post it as it looks like a million other one day old babies.
Mrs number1son is doing fine. She finishes her third week flat on her back tomorrow and maybe her spirits will brighten up. We haven't seen each other for a month now, but maybe one of us will be able to travel shortly.
I've run out of reading material, and am almost out of DVDs. Flemmard kindly lent me a mass of stuff which was mostly good. I started West Wing right at the beginning, and soon dropped it. However, after exhausting all other avenues, I went back to it and am now quite taken with it. If there's any truth in the story line, I've learned a lot about how the Merkan political system works. Which could come in useful one day.
Oh, and don't ever ever mention Australia, Ashes, Cricket in the same positing or I'll hate you to death. So there. |
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| I miss |
[Dec. 18th, 2006|04:05 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  bouncy | ] |
Thai food
Pakistani food
Japanese food
Browsing market stalls
Walking round the Parc des Bastions
Grasse Matinee
Freedom of ADSL
My fish
Doing any kind of shopping
A normal life
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You guys realize it's over six months since I've been in here? And still no time line to release.
Mrs Number1son got operated on this morning. I've no news yet as to how it went.
The SDFH still hasn't delivered the step-grand-child, now about a week overdue.
Got through a second rejection episode last Friday, and came out of it feeling a bit stronger yet at the same time very tired. Slept all weekend, except for yesterday when I watched series 4 of 24 straight through. Damn you B!
On that sort of subject didn't get to appreciate Six Feet Under. I seemed a piece of AV pro-gay manifesto to me. Gave it four or five episodes though. Didn't see any of the much vaunted black humour.
As you can see, I'm feeling a little sorry for myself, so I'll find a suitable mood tab and sign off.
Happy Monday! |
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| Personal detail page change |
[Dec. 7th, 2006|10:55 pm] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | Geneva | ] |
| [ | mood |
| |  tired | ] |
Just in case some of you don't go there, my new email address has been up for a few days. |
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| Profile of a transplanted organ reject |
[Dec. 6th, 2006|01:21 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  disappointed | ] |
| [ | music |
| | beep beep of a heart monitor down the all | ] |
Friends, Romans, and fellow LJournalists. Should your transplanted organ get unfairly picked on by your supposed suppressed immune system, here's what you can expect (especially with respect to lungs, of course, being my own specialty). Day one you can expect a high fever, over 41C. Day two you can expect a cavalcade of specialists in white coats... all asking the the same questions, and all demanding different tests. Day one for me was Saturday. So by today I have had 4 x-rays, 3 Scanners, a puncture in the lungs to recover fluids, a bronchoscopy to have a general look around and to gather biopsy material, and an examination of the liver via a hole they punch in your neck (!). The latter leaving me in extreme pain. So today finds me high on morphine and major doses of corticosteroids. Better that than continual pain I suppose. And then there is, of course, the continual sacrificing of goats and chickens (as you know, I don't have an eldest son) to all the gods and godesses that I have ever heard of in appeal that I can get through this one. Pitiful, int it, when you realize that you are not going to go peacefully and with dignity, but kicking and cursin all the way.
A worrying thought has just struck me. The vast majority of my posts appear to be about my health. Does that make me a old hypochondriac.... answers on a postcard please.
Hugs to all that accept them, and a manly slap on the back for those that don't |
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