Trippy Man as Tarantino might say.

So seizures. First thing I know is a headache, then the smell of jossticks, sandalwood if I recall correctly. Then a space shuttle launching from the tennis club at the end of our road, and an anticlockwise spinning fireball outside the window. Trippy man! Even this dumbo realised all was not well. I was chatting to a mate on MSN she noticed my typing was worse than usual. I managed to type words mixed up. She told me to switch on the webcam – she witness my face in a variety of grimaces before I fell off the chair and banged me nut. Meantime (shes in Yorkshire ) she fones a friend in wales to get my address then fones an ambulance.

I am lying on the floor peeing myself and fitting. Sort of wake up before realizing my daughter is screaming, and the ambulance men are calling for help to move a heavy guy in an awkward space. I decide to fit again they give me diazepam IV. I am out the game I wake up in the Royal feeling like a bag of boiled shite (same colour too). My mate visits in a surreal fashion, I remember that my pressing concern is not for my health but the fact Shakespeare our rabbit is wild in the garden. Seems easier to fit again so I watch my heart rate decorate and wake up spitting blood from a bitten cheek.

They aren’t sure whats gone on, they home in on the fact I like drink too much and recently gave up ( as a prelude to my Lenten promise). The first night was mad my head hurts and I cant see out of one lens of my glasses – when fitting I had rubbed them against an abrasive surface. That strangely is one of the worst bits.

Next day I am prodded by the top gaffer nice bloke with an entourage. He wants to do a CT scan. His junior boys think I am an old soak who has dried out too quick. They compromise and do a CT scan and ask the “lifestyles” nurse to see me.

She diagnoses a tremor – I always have one its due to the fact that I am on a shed full of medicine for my Bipolar Affective Disorder (more of that later). She sees  this as damning proof of my alcoholic status. She says stay in and go home see you in 4 weeks. I am not convinced (but I acknowledge I would deny it all).

I am trundled off for a CT scan that’s scary bit common now but knew to me. The radiographer obviously doesn’t know I have wanton lush written on my notes so strangely treats me with respect. She understands that I may have some insight after nearly 30 years in the NHS. 11am this was, will get reported on 3.30 (tis Friday). Hear nothing and you are laughing kiddo. My head feels like a girder has collided with it. They give me paracetamol.

About 7pm get to a ward staffed by a nerd I knew years ago who delights in subjecting me to sub human treatment. Headache Mr Clare?? Hangover?? Here’s two paracetamol. Now let me see what you in for ah….seizures following alcohol withdrawal.

Bloke in next bed is a decent geezer gulf war 1 vet with gulf war syndrome and post traumatic stress, and high blood pressure. I buy him a paper I am the only one deemed fit to walk. I come back to the room and feel like death, obviously a lazy lush. My head is bursting can I have something yes Mr C…paracetamol they are not touching it says I. I want to see a Doctor ….they inform one apparently by second class carrier pigeon. This goes on till Sunday night I am getting pissed off now the boyy in pain is not pleasant. Wife demands a doctor he sees me, does a competent neuro exam and then hey presto looks at the CT scan report. Hes to scared to face me so sends his boss. Both nice guys he says what do you thinks happened Mr Clare, I can tell from their tone I have been upgraded and I no longer flying in Lush class. I have had a brain bleed says I, but I am pessimistic hypochondriac I jape. Nope you’re right, we better transfer you to the Neurological Unit in another hospital you have had a subarachnoid haemorrhage. Oh shit…………………………………………………………..

 

Sunday late start

Not surprising given the lateness of the hour. Forgot to say in yesterdays post that I have been referred to Professor Kinderman a Clinical psychologist. Not sure what for but if prof morriss rates him that will do me. Took it easy Sunday Jean is tired and has an interview tomorrow. Catch up with the andrew in the pm and discuss matters geeky relating to the site. Always good.
Monday.
Jean comes home at lunchtime I prepare a delicious salad lunch warm chicken and bacon number. She goes off for the interview and I worry. Ally texts me to say she got an A* in her ICT coursework which makes me impressed proud and not in the last bit surprised. Jeans got the job and I am going to get 86 pound a week incapacity benefit so happy days.

Saturday old friends new faces.

Well it arrived I started the day not really wanting to go anywhere. Whilst at the same time wanting to see old friends. I took mum to tesco to get her prescription filled out, big job she's on that many pills. I will blog nannas pills when I do her attendance allowance claim. Great to see old faces and mnice to meet new ones. I meet my first ever body piercer. Not the person whpo first pierced my body, but the first of that professional group I have encountered. As a male student nurse I was understudy to a barber and spent many a happy Sunday afternoon shaving the collected nethers of Warringtons menfolk.
All goes surprisingly well and we tip out at 1am tut tut.

Thursday Friday and a sackful of blues

Still feeling pretty awful. Not looking forward to the Liverpool meet on Saturday which is odd because I shall be seeing some old friends, which will be good. The melancholia encompasses all. The letter from the prof gets me down. Still no word from the social. I take Ally to the orthodontist drop her at school and then its on to mike and janes to drop the roofbox off. Mike doesn't do emotion or mental health. He jumped out of mental health as soon as he could - preferred intensive care where the patients couldn't speak. Stilll they make me feel a bit better about myself. Then its off to my sisters to fix the computer.
Enjoyed it job done lunch long chat about ma and off home. Tea then out to B's sorted out a few things with some of the wlsinfo crew.

One letter thats all it took

It really did knock me for six I spent most of Wednesday doing nothing except feeling crap. Sick in my stomach and turning into the poor wretch that the letter described. Rumination is a good word, I have a gluttonous appetite for that too, throw self depreciation into the mix and happy days are here again. I fire off an email to Frank dispenser of wisdom and pills. Somrthing in my mind nags me that I should be seeing old prof M in September - it takes me three hours to shake out of the inertia and ring his secretary. I was right. I had an appointment at 2.30 trouble is its 4pm - Shit I hate DNA's (do not attends) big waste of time. But in the profs schedule probably just means he finishes 2 hours late instead of 3. Kathy his secretary is really nice but I feel pants about it. Ally says reassuringly if he treats bipolars he probably used to it. I hate being so badly organised it sucks. My limbs feel heavy and my head and heart feel like lead. I burden nell with my thoughts and when you feel this crap you worry that your mood will taint those near. Feel better with the girls around less time to ruminate.

More Social security and pension stuff.

Yesterday I got a letter from  the Department of Work and Pensions asking for my bank account details for my DLA. I have already give them this on the claim form. Is this a positive sign or merely a cruel tease. I am beginning to feel a bit worried - the wheels of the benefit people grind slowly. I definitely did put the details on the form. I rang the benefits enquiry line, they referred me to to the DLA claim line who tell me they need my details before they send me a decision. happy days.
Next through the post is another stunning letter, from Occupational Health at Aintree. Its a copy of his report on my in response to Doc Hibberts request.Whilst I am sure it will help in the DLA and Pension challenge it dont make me feel very good seeing the expertly written view of my presentation and prognosis. It doesnt feel like me but I think I should lie down on the settee and watch some daytime telly and wait for me giro.
Bipolar type 2 (a chronic mood disorder).

Tuesday

Start the day with an appointment with Frank (GP not barber). Top man as ever he thinks I am doing very well and keeping a remarkably even keel with all the uncertainty in my life. He prescribes some cognitive therapy and gives me home work. I shall more fully explain in a later post. He prays with me and taked my blood pressure. Us bipolar boys are at greater cardio vascular risf (especially us fat ones). Then its off to get JK always a tonic a man with a useless factoid for every occaision and some very useful ones as well as a cracking set of a variety of skills.

Up to the <a href="http://www.cpliverpool.com/">Crowne Plaza</a> to pick up mac and jude. Then its up <a href="http://www.aintreehospitals.nhs.uk/">aintree hospital</a> to drop em off. A tip dont view in firefox the NHS dont believe it exists. Grrrrrrrr.Sloppy web coding.

We drop them at the <a href="http://www.abbeyhospitals.co.uk/html/liverpool.html">Sefton Suite </a>(coz Mac was private)its currently impossible to get NHS bariatric surgery in Northern Ireland.

While they are doing the business we go to see Mary B a member of the NW group who is in the surgical assessment unit she dont look well and is fed up. Mac has done well 5 stone down since the op he is seven stone down since his first consult with the surgeon. Business done we head off for lunch at the <a href="http://www.visitsthelens.com/displayProduct.asp?product_key=44694&page_key=23&channel=vst1b">bottle and glass</a> on the rainford bypass. Then its off to the Asda Walmart giant store at Huyton much to Judes delight. You cant get George clothes in Northern Ireland.Drop em at the airport and i am off home for tea.

Cell group.

A great bunch of lads I decide todays the day I either get fully involved or stop abusing their hospitality and good will. Going to a meeting at <a href="http://www.frontline.org.uk/index.php">frontline</a> with Jean on Thursday.

It was a good meet and the  clear unconditional love of the cell members mean theres something special going on.

Pompey 1 - Toffees 0

Happy days - still at least its raining at the Oval. I feel nervous in the crowd but the presence of Jean means I am ok. Meanwhile driving back across town, they are back out at the Oval, one more wicket and a few runs.
jean worked late thursday and Thursday was spent lunching with Andrew M looking well 3 stone on 6 weeks following his surgery. Still he was only a tiddler to start (under 30 stone is a tiddler).

Not good for my mental health

Perched precariously on the top balcony of the main stand at goodison park. Watching a poor Everton performance against pompey. Perhaps they read the blog in which I dissed their fine city. Best performance of the day the crossbar.