An Overshadowing of Events

I’ve never really been one for planning; taking things as they come, with opportunities galore for spontaneity and improvisation, is more my favoured route. Sadly, things in the real world seem to be in conflict with my ideal and, planning becomes necessary when it comes to grocery provisions, especially so for festive celebrations. It is my good fortune that ma belle OH is the grocery shopper, especially so since I’ve found it difficult to cope with the sensory overload from any store other than the, now almost extinct species, corner shop.

As Christmas Day approached I got into the, unfavoured but necessary, routine of pre-preparing certain food items before the big day itself. I enjoy cooking the main meals but, tend to get a little stressed by these special occasions. At least there were no great numbers to prepare for, our elder daughter staying with us through Christmas Eve evening until Boxing Day late afternoon whilst the younger sibling was coming over at about 2.00pm, on the day itself, together with our grandson, following his mid-day nap.

The evening before Christmas Eve day I started experiencing very dramatic floaters in my right eye and, found myself stretching out to remove a soot covered cobweb from a corner of the loo. Of course neither the soot covering, nor the web itself, existed out there in the room but were rather hyper 3D-ised visions stemming from false retina readings. Shortly afterwards I started to have rather strident flashes of light appearing beside my right eye which I found quite disturbing. Christmas Eve morning, ma belle contacted my GPs surgery which arranged a call back from one of the doctors on duty that day.

A short while later, the ‘phone rang and ma belle OH passed the handset to me, at which point I was told about arrangements for the operation, with the sudden realization that this call was for my beloved. After months of waiting, they were now informing us that, all things going well, her aortic valve replacement would be taking place on 15 January. This news cast rather a shadow over subsequent proceedings as I am, to quite an extent, dependent upon Helen as my primary carer. At the same time, I gratefully acknowledge that the operation can give her a whole new quality of life, after several months recuperation from the cardiac surgery.

The next time the phone rang; a doctor from my local practice spoke to me and arranged for an appointment that afternoon. The doctor I saw gave my eyes a thorough examination and she put through a referral to the eye clinic at the District Hospital. A short while after arriving home, the phone rang once again; this time, the message was to inform me that an appointment with a doctor at the eye-clinic had been arranged for 10.00AM on Christmas Day. This was turning out to be an unusual Christmas Eve and Day, but having undergone a thorough examination at the hospital, I was back home in time to continue preparations for Christmas Dinner.

Ever since my wife’s cardiac surgery seemed quite imminent, last summer, I have once again succumbed to anxiety and depressive episodes, randomly tearful and unduly angry with people and events. When I saw a doctor about this experience in August, all she would suggest was CBT as she wanted me off all my medications, not adding something else. My anxiety intensified after that visit as the medications I am taking are for the heart, following a minor stroke, for long-term abdominal problems and for pain and restless leg control. As the operation date, for my beloved, is once again imminent, the anxieties have intensified so, yesterday afternoon, I saw a different doctor who is consulting with a pharmacist and the mental health team to see if there may be a suitable course of medication etc.

This afternoon I attended the opticians, for an overdue eye test, and have been referred to the cataract clinic with regard to my right eye. So, things are moving and I’m struggling on…

The Eye of the Storm – of health & non-well-being

The general state of my joints, muscles and general viscera this morning (Tuesday) could best be described as disconcertingly enervated. At least last night granted me a little more sleep, albeit rather unrefreshing, than was the case on Sunday night. On the latter hangs a story.

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The story continues from my previous post.

Thursday morning I duly attended my appointment with a locum doctor at my usual GPs practice. The symptoms of either-or/ both-and gall bladder and diverticular infection weighed heavily on body, mind and spirit; either cause being an additional concern on top of my familiar chronic illness symptoms.

The doctor had me lay down as he proddd and poked my abdominal region, frustrated by my inability to either be or feel relaxed. When I started to sit up, post-examination, I was overwhelmed by an extremely acute vertigo type attack. Either the room, or the top of my head, spun violently around and a sensation of either falling to the bottom of a vortex, or that base/floor rushing up towards me, made me feel quite faint and nauseous. The GP advised me to lie back down for a few minutes before attempting to sit-up again. Next attempt at sitting upright produced the same sense of disequilibrium as I felt forced to throw my torso back down. A few more minutes rest were required as my heart rate was greatly elevated.

Once a degree of stability was restored the physician seemed to then ignore these vertiginous episodes as he prescribed a course of antibiotics for suspected diverticulitis. He added that I had no immediate need to obtain the prescribed medication unless the smptoms intensified. By Saturday lunchtime the diverticular symptoms receurred with a vengeance, so my beloved headed across town to an open pharmacy to obtain the medication and I duly started the prescribed course.

On Sunday lunchtime, my beloved having returned from taking the service at Trinity, I had dinner peparations well underway; as I stood up again to check on the cooking progress, a violent vertigo sensation once again overwhelmed me and, my natural panic response brought on a sense of tightness across the chest.

As the episode gradually subsided, Helen drove me across to A&E at the District Hospital, thinking that it was perhaps a recurrence of the labyrinthitis, to which I had previously succumbed some 15 years ago, and on that occasion succesfully treated/controlled with medication. We arrived at A&E, where probable waiting time was estimated at 4 hours, shortly after 14.00hrs. Not long after arrival my blood pressure, heart rate and temperature were checked by a triage nurse before returning to the waiting area.

When I eventually got into a cubicle, to be seen by a doctor, a nurse took some blood samples, rechecked blood pressure and wired me up for an ECG. The A&E doctor had me lay down whilst examining my abdomen listening to my chest as I took deep breaths in and out the, after a few minuteswhen he asked me to sit up slowly the vertigo recurred. Even after resting a little longer the same thing happened again. He also noted that my heart rate was considerably elevated and, was reluctant to let me go home. The doctor then went to consult with more senior staff.

By 18.20, I was transferred to CAT ward and, within a couple of  a hours moved to a bay in Acute Medical where the environment was somewhat more settled. I’ve often felt that Hospitals are those paradoxical places which are both the worst and the best place to be confined when you’re feeling unwell!

At 01.50 on Monday morning, a duty doctor came to examine me and, by this stage things had settled down a bit as I’d rested. A senior doctor came to check me over at about 11.30 and felt tht I had stabilized sufficiently to be discharged, and duly prepared notes for my GP practice for follow up, confirming that vertigo/labyrinthitis (middle ear infections) were the primary suspect and suggested that they may consider repositioning manoeuvres for BPPV. No new medicines were prescribed.

Ma Belle chauffeuse, aka Helen, my beloved and my OH, came to collect me and, it was wonderful to be enthusiastically greeted by our gorgeous hound Piper as we went to the car. We were back on home territory shortly after 13.00 and much rest was needed. It was really good to both listen and relax to the music on Radio 3 (classical) an option not available on the over bed radio in the hospital.

General Practitioners may be Bad for one’s emotional Health

General Practitioners may be Bad for one’s emotional Health!

Seven days ago my Patient Information Leaflet saga began and, on this the seventh day, I received an early morning telephonic communication from the medical practice. Once again it was a receptionist making the call and she duly read out a (quite lengthy) statement from the prescribing doctor declaring his infallibility. It actually stated that he was well aware of side-effect and contra-indications but as he was prescribing a very low dose (100mg when the capsules are made in only 50 & 100mg); I would have considered 50mg to be very low dose in this instance.

My primary concern was the positive declaration that one should not take this medication if they’ve taken the specific medication I was on within the last two weeks. Of course being some sort of God the GP obviously didn’t feel it was worthwhile to deal with this specific.

Of course it was said that I could arrange an appointment with said doctor to discuss the issue but, what’s the point of consulting a GP who offhandedly (as witnessed by my wife who sat in on the appointment) ignores anything the patient says if it doesn’t suit his agenda? In any case it always takes ages to get an appointment. Although I had been quite prepared to start taking the new medication two weeks after having taken the last dose of the previously prescribed ones, this wasn’t presented as an option so I now have misgivings about taking it at all, which as the receptionist says “that’s the patient’s prerogative”.

I can only assume that patients are supposed to ignore Patient Information leaflets, as they may prove challenging to the GPs’ omniscience. 

FRUSTRATIONS of a Medical and Medicinal Kind

This post also appears on 'Mal's Murmurings' under the title 'CONSULTATION FRUSTRATION'

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It shouldn’t really be like this; anger and despair turn out to be the result of a visit to the GP. Having finally yielded to my beloved’s advice, I got around to arranging an appointment with my local doctors practice. My reluctance to make this appointment is the knowledge that they’re only equipped, or allowed the time, to deal with a specific singular ailment, not a complex multiplicity or whole people.

First annoyance came when he (being the doctor) stated that the medications I was on had a tendency to conflict / counteract each other to some degree. Considering the length of time I’ve been on this assortment of potentially self-conflicting cocktails, I begin to wonder why the practice had been oblivious to this over the course of the past couple of years.

When conflicting advice, between medics in the same practice, as to whether certain meds should be used pre-emptively or only when absolutely necessary, adds a further quandary for the patient as to the efficacy of using the practice at all.

Anyway, a couple of the prescribed medications are no longer to be used; they are replaced by a single different medication. Worrying for me is the following statement, on the Patient Information leaflet:

 take special care if you:

suffer from conditions like abdominal pain, muscle weakness, mental confusion.

[there are times – regularly for the first two, occasional for the latter - when I can tick all those boxes]

The doctor further suggested that I should use co-codamol instead of tramadol, even though I’d had to stop using co-codamol, because of the effect it was having on various abdominal organs, a few years back. Tramadol, thankfully, remains on my prescription.

Next came the little prep talk suggesting Graded Exercise Therapy would help, even performing the same limited exercise on ‘bad’ as well as ‘good’ days. Obviously he has no understanding of what a PwME’s (even moderately so) ‘bad’ day is like. I explained that even the visit to the opticians, a limited amount of exercise involved, was sufficient to cause payback, his response was that obviously was too much exertion!

Well, it seems that I’ll have to stick with my own pacing regimen which essentially curtails any exertion on bad days and, ensuring that I always have some spoons in reserve when I exercise on good days.

The preceding events, at least their physical & mental toll, necessitate a temporary postponement of my visit to hospital for further blood tests

I’m quite proud of myself for refraining from the use of expletives during this little rant; expletives remain in my personal domestic space for the time being

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Malcolm Evison doctor even told me that there's no connection between overload of pain stimuli and the corresponding nausea that I experience !!!

Salvaging The Wreckage

I quite honestly don’t know what’s going on; much as I hate visiting doctors, and hospitals, my body seems to have a contrary impulse which makes such visits essential.


The most recent such visit, after another little setback, was to the GP out of hours Clinic at the District Hospital on Saturday afternoon. I’d suddenly found myself overwhelmed by a head-spinning giddiness coupled with a griping sense of nausea invoking bloatedness. To add to this discomfort, my lower limbs simultaneously took on a leaden rubbery sensation, stubbornly refusing to be comforted by any re-positioning I attempted. The now familiar gnawing bruised sensation in the lower ribcage and abdominal region once again reasserted itself.



I have to admit though that it was the head-spinning giddiness that caused me the greatest concern. When I went to lie down, a feeling of nausea forced me to return to a seated position but, within a few moments, I needed to lay down once more to prevent the room spinning giddyingly out of control. I generally just felt crap, alternating between clammy overheating and cold shudders.



Having telephonically contacted the out of hours helpline, a doctor suggested that I get my OH to drive me down to the clinic at the hospital. The clinic seemed extremely busy, the best part of two hours passed before I got to see a GP. Having checked my blood pressure, which proved normal, he examined my eyes, ears, nose and throat. His diagnosis was severe sinusitis and an infection in the left ear and, prescribed a course of antibiotics and directed us to the nearest dispensary, which happened to be on the route home. In this instance I have to admit that the diagnosis made complete sense of sundry recent symptoms, acknowledged primarily by my attempts to ignore them.



It did seem rather odd that I was experiencing an extremely unpleasant variant of the symptoms that I would, normally, have blamed on smoking too much; having not smoked a cigarette, even lacking the desire to do so, for the past four and a half weeks that sort of unreason could no longer prevail.



Since succumbing to ME, in 2003, it’s easy to attribute any sense of dis-ease to that wretched overall condition. Whilst awaiting a gastroscopy, an investigative response to my various digestive tract problems, I’ve now developed a tendency to blame any other ailments on my intestinal abnormalities. It’s not only medical professionals who have difficulty in looking at the whole person; it’s proving tricky enough to switch my own focus away from the currently dominant site of dis-ease!