...when it's your eyelids that are being 'attacked'. Would it be the same with the feet, or the hands?
After having my xanthelasmas removed a couple of weeks ago I had to go back for a 'control'. Piece of nonsense, I thought, it'll just be the clinic wanting to earn money. Though as it happens....see below.
The original procedure had been very ... uncomfortable. So when I was made to lie down again and had to close my eyes, with the doctor coming at them, the eyelids started to dance a salsa. If it had needed another procedure today I think I would have had to be put under!
What's worse...the doctor noticed that a little spot had been left behind. Using all my Lithuanian persuasion skills I suggested that no-one would possibly see that, and that it did not really need to be done. (When I pay for a procedure I feel I have a bit more power in this). This worked, and the 'control' was free - nice touch.
Of course, as soon as I got home and looked in the mirror, I could see the small left-behind bit as clearly as a beam across my face. Ho hum.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Back on the run
Started running again 15 days after my op; actually, it was fine. When you run, when I run, I'm not as upright as when I walk, so there is less strain on the op site. Only problem might have been if I slipped on the remaining ice, but managed to avoid that.
Have run for a total of 4 hours, or about 40 km in 8 days. Not entirely sure that qualifies as 'taking it easy' as I was supposed to do, but it's been fine. Speed has also improved again (ice does not help speed), so now onwards and upwards towards the Vienna (half) Marathon in April.
Have run for a total of 4 hours, or about 40 km in 8 days. Not entirely sure that qualifies as 'taking it easy' as I was supposed to do, but it's been fine. Speed has also improved again (ice does not help speed), so now onwards and upwards towards the Vienna (half) Marathon in April.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Scary clowns
A report in today's Scotsman reports that children in hospital find clowns scary. Those painted on the wall, that is. The University of Sheffield polled 250 children between 4 and 16 years of age and none of them liked clowns painted on walls.
Wow - even the oldest ones found them scary? I suppose clowns are not much part of today's life, when we don't have so many circuses, so children are not used to them. (I used to hate them in circuses because you'd get unexpected bangs; those drive me crazy even now). And those eyes looking at you.....
Why then are living clown doctors so successful? Or does this maybe gloss over the fact that not all children like them either?
It just shows how important it is to involve the users, or potential users of services, in service design. This is just about pictures on walls - what do the service users have to say about service delivery?
(In one recent hospital attendance, while I was waiting for a scary procedure, the staff turned on the radio loud in the waiting room, with pop music - maybe to help me relax. In another operating theatre the radio was running, with news and pop music. I can't abide pop music. In each case I asked for them to be turned off. It was my operation.....but what if the surgeon needs music while operating? Then whose operation is it?)
(Picture courtesy of the Humour Foundation)
Ouch!
This will be the last self-inflicted surgery on my body for a while! (Though the hernia op was necessary rather than desirable).
After getting shot of my glasses, I and other people noticed more the little cholesterol spots above my eyes. Especially people shorter than me. It's no problem getting shot of them, too, I was told.
Off I tootled to the beauty clinic that I trust (sounds as if I have been to hundreds - but here I know the medical director a bit, who gets wheeled out in the media every time someone talks about larger or smaller breasts. He's not getting his hands on mine - whichever way! Though he's an attractive young man....).
Long discussion about the hows and when. Options were surgical removal or laser. Both have after-effects I was told, of the puffy and bruising variety. Wunderbar.
Plumped for the laser technology, and in the middle of conversations which were harder to understand than at last week's op, managed to imply that I did not want anything for the pain. I thought 'after procedure pain' - can't be that bad, I thought; they delivered 'during procedure pain'. They certainly did. (To be honest, though, it's not supposed to be so good to have local anaesthesia in the face; there are risks!).
This is where this frigging communications thing comes in. Occasionally they would tell me what they did, and maybe they did it more often, but I did not understand - if I cannot see because my eyes are covered it really does not aid my understanding. So they'd come at me with the laser, clack, clack, clack - each 'clack' like being hit with a little pointy dart, and then something else that felt as if they were pulling things, very resistant things, out of my skin. I certainly did not have advance warning of everything they were doing to me. Having this information really helps to deal with discomfort - my experience in Turkey was wonderful in this regard. Definitely not like plucking your eyebrows - that would have been a walk-over in comparison.....
It had better work!
After getting shot of my glasses, I and other people noticed more the little cholesterol spots above my eyes. Especially people shorter than me. It's no problem getting shot of them, too, I was told.
Off I tootled to the beauty clinic that I trust (sounds as if I have been to hundreds - but here I know the medical director a bit, who gets wheeled out in the media every time someone talks about larger or smaller breasts. He's not getting his hands on mine - whichever way! Though he's an attractive young man....).
Long discussion about the hows and when. Options were surgical removal or laser. Both have after-effects I was told, of the puffy and bruising variety. Wunderbar.
Plumped for the laser technology, and in the middle of conversations which were harder to understand than at last week's op, managed to imply that I did not want anything for the pain. I thought 'after procedure pain' - can't be that bad, I thought; they delivered 'during procedure pain'. They certainly did. (To be honest, though, it's not supposed to be so good to have local anaesthesia in the face; there are risks!).
This is where this frigging communications thing comes in. Occasionally they would tell me what they did, and maybe they did it more often, but I did not understand - if I cannot see because my eyes are covered it really does not aid my understanding. So they'd come at me with the laser, clack, clack, clack - each 'clack' like being hit with a little pointy dart, and then something else that felt as if they were pulling things, very resistant things, out of my skin. I certainly did not have advance warning of everything they were doing to me. Having this information really helps to deal with discomfort - my experience in Turkey was wonderful in this regard. Definitely not like plucking your eyebrows - that would have been a walk-over in comparison.....
It had better work!
Thursday, January 10, 2008
The weirdest feeling
So I had a little hernia op, nothing really, but got a so-called 'spinal' anaesthesia; what pregnant woman might know as an epidural. I was not certain about this, having heard stories of complications from my friends who had their children with form of this anaesthesia. But that was almost 30 years ago, and things might have changed. So I thought I would try it out.
Never again! If I can avoid it!
The process itself was perfect. You hear stories about the pain caused by injections into the spinal canal, but either that process has changed a lot, too, or the anaesthetist was extremely skilled - it hurt no more than having your blood taken.
But oh, the experience! It numbs you from the injection site down (I assume that pregnant women get it at a lower point in the spine to be able to push), and starts with your legs tingling.
Then it all goes dead. Wow! As it happens, I got some gas up my nose as well, and knew nothing about anything until the gas was removed afterwards, when I was completely and totally conscious again, in the recovery room. Bouncing off the walls and ceiling conscious, that is. Could have done with my Ipod there, had I known.
But oh, the legs. Still totally dead! You have no idea the weight that they have when they are, effectively, paralysed. Tried to lift them with my hands (but could not do very much anyway, under the watchful eye of the nurse). But somehow I must have had some feeling in them, because the mattress felt so soft around them, as if it was a duvet, molded just around the shape of each of my legs, with the knees slightly bent.
After an hour's screaming boredom which I finally ended by starting to use the metal cot sides of my bed as a percussion instrument, trying to 'play' some pieces I knew (we haf vays of getting our own way...), I got let back down to my room.
Was I glad when eventually I was able to move the toes of my right foot! I tried to sit up, seeing as there was nothing wrong with my arms, but my balance was totally out of kilter, and the different bits of the bed under the legs kept moving and unsettling me. If I tried to lift my legs, the bed followed them. Slowly, slowly, I began to get some control back - only to be told that after this anaesthesia you need to stay in bed for 24 hours (to prevent headaches or something). Oh 'eck!
But you know what? There was nothing wrong with the bed - it was a normal, one piece mattress, the same I spent almost all my time on - but the sensation while it lasted was totally different!
Never again! If I can avoid it!
The process itself was perfect. You hear stories about the pain caused by injections into the spinal canal, but either that process has changed a lot, too, or the anaesthetist was extremely skilled - it hurt no more than having your blood taken.
But oh, the experience! It numbs you from the injection site down (I assume that pregnant women get it at a lower point in the spine to be able to push), and starts with your legs tingling.
Then it all goes dead. Wow! As it happens, I got some gas up my nose as well, and knew nothing about anything until the gas was removed afterwards, when I was completely and totally conscious again, in the recovery room. Bouncing off the walls and ceiling conscious, that is. Could have done with my Ipod there, had I known.
But oh, the legs. Still totally dead! You have no idea the weight that they have when they are, effectively, paralysed. Tried to lift them with my hands (but could not do very much anyway, under the watchful eye of the nurse). But somehow I must have had some feeling in them, because the mattress felt so soft around them, as if it was a duvet, molded just around the shape of each of my legs, with the knees slightly bent.
After an hour's screaming boredom which I finally ended by starting to use the metal cot sides of my bed as a percussion instrument, trying to 'play' some pieces I knew (we haf vays of getting our own way...), I got let back down to my room.
Was I glad when eventually I was able to move the toes of my right foot! I tried to sit up, seeing as there was nothing wrong with my arms, but my balance was totally out of kilter, and the different bits of the bed under the legs kept moving and unsettling me. If I tried to lift my legs, the bed followed them. Slowly, slowly, I began to get some control back - only to be told that after this anaesthesia you need to stay in bed for 24 hours (to prevent headaches or something). Oh 'eck!
But you know what? There was nothing wrong with the bed - it was a normal, one piece mattress, the same I spent almost all my time on - but the sensation while it lasted was totally different!
Sunday, January 6, 2008
A weight loser who hates waste
Having lived through poor (though never starving poor) periods in my life, I hate wasting food. It's not so bad in Eastern Europe because if you really have an excess of food in the house, you can put it out on top of the bin, and poor and hungry people will find it and recycle it. Though it hurts putting out food that is still good, one has to be fair to those people, too.....
So there I had lost all that weight over the last 15 months or so, and I was worried about eating so much over Christmas. Indeed, the weight increased again, by up to 3.5 kg from the minimum (though that had only ever been reached for a brief period). It was still tolerable, though I could feel one shirt being a little tight round the top, and my ribs were not quite so visible (all my weight is in my legs - no-one will ever see my leg bones or even running muscles!).
Then two days ago I returned to eating normal quantities - and the excess weight is dropping off! Like a stone! Maybe my body really has found a new equilibrium which is much lower than the one I had during my heavy days. ....Let's see what happens when, after my op tomorrow, I can't run or walk much for a week or two....
So there I had lost all that weight over the last 15 months or so, and I was worried about eating so much over Christmas. Indeed, the weight increased again, by up to 3.5 kg from the minimum (though that had only ever been reached for a brief period). It was still tolerable, though I could feel one shirt being a little tight round the top, and my ribs were not quite so visible (all my weight is in my legs - no-one will ever see my leg bones or even running muscles!).
Then two days ago I returned to eating normal quantities - and the excess weight is dropping off! Like a stone! Maybe my body really has found a new equilibrium which is much lower than the one I had during my heavy days. ....Let's see what happens when, after my op tomorrow, I can't run or walk much for a week or two....
Thursday, January 3, 2008
I can't believe
...the blog titles that are still available! This is such an obvious one, for us women who have been round the block a bit...
In the 80s there was a feminist woman's health book called 'Our Bodies, Ourselves'. It had the aim of making women thoroughly familiar with their bodies, bits of which were often only touched by doctors or lovers. It empowered women to take care of their own bodies, informed them of signs and symptoms and their bodies' needs and capacities, relationship aspects and it was a wonderful, uplifting read. I see the book is still around, with a separate edition for the menopause (hmmm, yes, well....), and of course there is a website. Well done, ladies!
The body thing is interesting. Sociologists, of which I am one, I think, take a great interest in the human body and how it links with the mind and social conditions (much as David Levitin, in his book 'This is your brain on music' tries to link the physical aspects of music listening to the generally pleasurable experience of music listening). Sociologically the mind (as opposed to the brain) has an impact on the body - just think of 'I should go for a run' and what happens what you do or don't do. Representations of the body are interesting, too and how they affect people's lives - if you think of people of different appearances, whether they are young, old, black, white, tall, small - these are the first impressions you have of people, and that's how they are generally treated. It would be interesting to know, for example, whether the body of a poor heroin-user clad in rags, and that of a wealthy investment banker cocain user would be treated the same on arriving in A&E. People who undergo medical treatment are often referred to by the carers as 'that appendix over there' or 'that lung cancer' rather than as a person who has these conditions. Much like persons with disabilities are still referred to in some countries out East as 'the disabled', as if the disability defines their whole meaning. (I could go on and on; it's a fascinating subject....)
If this title had not been around, the blog might have been called something like 'Personal Stuff' because that's what it is. It's a split off from Viola in Vilnius on arts and music, and from Good Buy Lenin on general life in Eastern Europe. to cover purely personal stuff, like running, health and all those things that I do not consider typical for Eastern Europe. I'm not planning to go on whinging about health all the time, though.....
In the 80s there was a feminist woman's health book called 'Our Bodies, Ourselves'. It had the aim of making women thoroughly familiar with their bodies, bits of which were often only touched by doctors or lovers. It empowered women to take care of their own bodies, informed them of signs and symptoms and their bodies' needs and capacities, relationship aspects and it was a wonderful, uplifting read. I see the book is still around, with a separate edition for the menopause (hmmm, yes, well....), and of course there is a website. Well done, ladies!
The body thing is interesting. Sociologists, of which I am one, I think, take a great interest in the human body and how it links with the mind and social conditions (much as David Levitin, in his book 'This is your brain on music' tries to link the physical aspects of music listening to the generally pleasurable experience of music listening). Sociologically the mind (as opposed to the brain) has an impact on the body - just think of 'I should go for a run' and what happens what you do or don't do. Representations of the body are interesting, too and how they affect people's lives - if you think of people of different appearances, whether they are young, old, black, white, tall, small - these are the first impressions you have of people, and that's how they are generally treated. It would be interesting to know, for example, whether the body of a poor heroin-user clad in rags, and that of a wealthy investment banker cocain user would be treated the same on arriving in A&E. People who undergo medical treatment are often referred to by the carers as 'that appendix over there' or 'that lung cancer' rather than as a person who has these conditions. Much like persons with disabilities are still referred to in some countries out East as 'the disabled', as if the disability defines their whole meaning. (I could go on and on; it's a fascinating subject....)
If this title had not been around, the blog might have been called something like 'Personal Stuff' because that's what it is. It's a split off from Viola in Vilnius on arts and music, and from Good Buy Lenin on general life in Eastern Europe. to cover purely personal stuff, like running, health and all those things that I do not consider typical for Eastern Europe. I'm not planning to go on whinging about health all the time, though.....
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
