Are you Harry Baldy?

This is what the nurse asked me. She was just being silly because she accidentally clicked on the wrong person’s notes. But for real, someone on this ward is called Harry Baldy. It’s like an oxymoron – Hairy Baldy. Or Garibaldi like the Italian revolutionist. Or the biscuit. Ssh I’m tired.

(As I write this, the patient opposite me has just put Jeremy Kyle on the telly. I’ve just heard ‘Her name is Tesco because she’s open 24/7’. Charming!)  Here’s today’s sunny view of Big Ben.

There’s not a lot to update you on. I didn’t have the op yesterday so I broke my 6 hour fast with a Creme Egg. Needless to say I’d be useless during Ramadan.

*If you don’t like needles and veins stop reading now* 

In simple terms, I have a clot near my collar bone on the right side which is stopping the veins working properly to get the blood away from my arm, which is why it’s blue. Some of the clot has travelled to the lungs, which is causing me trouble to breath.

‘But what caused the clot in the first place?!’ I hear you ask. Aha, I can answer you this. The area where my veins and arteries cross near the collar bone is smaller than normal and something – maybe muscle or extra bone – is pinching it, stopping the blood from getting passed. This needs to be confirmed by another scan but if this is the case, they’ll need to operate to make more room so it doesn’t happen again.

For now, I’m going to be put on a drip for a couple of days to break down the clot near my collarbone and banish it from the Kingdom of Body Beautiful (that’s me). When the clots are gone, they may send me home to recover and then bring me back to operate. Or they’ll do it while I’m in now. Does that make sense?

In other news I think I’ve developed a fear of needles. Because they can’t get any blood from blue arm everything has to be taken from my left arm – I’ve had 13 needles in my left arm and one in my tummy. To make things more irritating, my veins aren’t playing game so it takes multiple attempts. My hand is a bit swollen from where they have to take the blood and yesterday, they had to delve deep into my wrist to reach the artery as I was complaining of chest pains. It hurt like a mother f***** and I let everybody know.

*For those who switched off, you can tune back in now*

Thank the Lord for dry shampoo. As my right arm is blue and heavy I can’t really use it (like I can’t even pick my nose. I go to lift my finger up to my snozzer and by the time it gets there my arm is dead!), and my left arm is bruised and has a cannula in the fold. This results in me having two fliddy arms. I know that is very unPC and I apologise for the offence, but really they’re useless. I can’t wash myself because I can’t hold the shower head (mother has to help me. I have to shame being in the nuddy in front of mum). The greasy mop on my head even offends me and I can’t tie it up, so dry shampoo is my absolute saviour.

 This is how grateful I am for dry shampoo. Leave me alone, I’m on drugs.

Mum and Dad visited again yesterday and so did my cousin, Maree. The perks of being in London is that my friends and family who work here can pop in after work. Oli came again too. He had to help me get into my pjs. This was hilarious. I’m not sure if he’s had to do it before when I’ve been too drunk to do it myself but this was funnier – and worse -because I was sober. He nearly wet himself laughing at the little foldy down seat in the shower. And laughing with me as I’m standing there in the nuddy with two almost useless arms. He told me he’s seen me looking shitter than this. I think it was supposed to be a compliment…

 Dad turned up with a pafiterole tower yesterday. Although they looked great, I’m not a fan of unnecessary amounts of cream. Oli and Maree liked them though! Can I have some of those chilli prawns again please Pops?

Sorry if this post isn’t as cheery as the others – I’m pleased they have a plan now though. Excuse me please, can you make me better now?

For those of you who are keen to hear about Ethel:

She had her blood pressure taken earlier today and when it was over she asked the nurse: ‘Am I alive?’ She’s a right hoot. There’s no stopping Ethel.

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