Health concerns

I am usually on top of interacting with other blogs, but this current health scare is interfering with an ability to communicate. This must appear rude and the blog stats are certainly dwindling fast. It feels heart breaking to watch something so special just slip through my fingers.

I’m worried about my health, very worried, but I feel reluctant to tell anyone just in case it transpires as nothing and I look like a deranged hypochondriac.

I decided that I should chart the medical procedures on my blog, but I really don’t know what direction we will be heading. Allow me to update you on the current progress.

The colonoscopy results can take up to 8 weeks, but if there were any issue in the bowel to cause weight loss, they would’ve seen it on the day.

I initially thought the pounds were shedding due to a small and painful reduction in donuts, ice cream, and medications, although I now appreciate these miniscule amounts would hardly scrape the scales. Nevertheless, following the colonoscopy on the 16^th of last month, I decided not to return to the GP, but to spend a week or two pigging-out on all those lovely bad munchies.

Five days into my belly-busting regime, I had a telephone call from the GP asking what I am doing.

“What, right at this minute?”

He always gasps whenever I say something ridiculous, “No,” gasp, “I mean, why haven’t you come to see me?”

“Well, um, I’m taking a week to increase my diet because I’m still pretty certain this is lifestyle related.”

He gasps, “Listen, I can’t discuss this right now, but come see me on Monday morning.”

I made an appointment for Wednesday.

“Mr Cat, you don’t seem to grasp the magnitude of this situation. A weight loss of 2lbs each week has nothing to do with cutting back two or three donuts a week or reducing a miniscule amount of medications.”

“But, I feel too well for this to be anything serious.”

“What?” He gasps, “I don’t think you’ve been too well recently. Your stomach is tender, you have upper back pain, you look very pale, you’ve complained about fatigue for some time now, and you are losing far_too_much_weight.”

“Then it must be a helluva coincidence, when I cut down on some naughty edibles, the pounds start to drop.”

He gasps, “I am also trying to lose the pounds and I jog three times a week, but I struggle to get anywhere near your weight loss.” He laughs, “If you bottle the secret, you’ll be mega rich.”

I stare in silence, unable to absorb everything he’s saying. It’s so odd to have a Doctor say I have a potential health problem… am I really in trouble? Is this a potential death sentence? I keep the dramatics to myself.

This time he smiles, “I am sorry to be so brutal, but you need to take this seriously. Six months ago, you were 206lbs, but today you are only 171lbs.”

“But, I’m still 17lbs overweight.”

“Yes, but you were originally 35lbs overweight and in about 8 weeks’ time, you’ll be verging on un_der_weight. Can you not understand why I want to move this along quickly?”

My mind has been in a trance ever since, completely distracted from everything. I have two probable situations here. Either I’m right and this is lifestyle related, or I have a BIG problem.

The GP made a referral to see the gastroenterologist. An urgent hospital appointment in the UK can take a couple of weeks. I also have a scan of my pancreas booked for the 12^th of this month.

I am starting to question why I have spent so many years allowing past pain and bad family relationships to destroy my life.

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The dreaded Colonoscopy

If anyone has undergone a colonoscopy, you will know the laxatives to prepare the colon are ass-splitting-powerful. Unfortunately, the magic potion also made me dreadfully ill and I didn’t go to the toilet for over ten hours, but I’ll spare you the gory details of that triumphant dawn chorus.

I was so nervous on arrival at hospital, the dissociation kicked in and I barely uttered a word to the nurses on the ward, which is unlike my usual chattiness. One of them said I looked very relaxed, but I was really trembling. It brought home how I can have this stoic appearance when in reality, there is a storm blowing underneath.

There was more than an emotional storm blowing underneath because those laxatives caused enough flatulence to power a wind turbine generator.

Everyone is familiar with the infamous hospital gowns and the humiliating opening down the back. My wicked sense of humour thinks it’s hilarious whenever someone doesn’t realise and then parades up and down flashing their rear end.

While I waited on the hospital bed for the dreaded procedure, I had to get up several times for the loo. Fortunately, I didn’t need to worry if my gown happened to flap open at the back, the nurse had provided me with a pair of disposable shorts to spare my dignity, or so I thought.

What I hadn’t realised is that these shorts are specially designed for the colonoscopy procedure and they too have a cheeky split up the back. It seems the butt end of the joke was on me that morning.

Going to theatre was the worst moment. It felt like they were wheeling me along the corridor of death and my bum was already screaming in terror.

Once we arrived inside the small theatre, my eyes went in search for the colonoscopy torture instrument. Why did I do that? I have seen thinner cables to power electric trains, but it was a bit too late to change my mind and I could only hope the anaesthetic would be enough.

The Anaesthetist looked a little surprised when the intravenous Midazolam appeared to have little effect, although I certainly found my chatter again. I said, “When you’re up there, Doctor, see if you can find my dignity.”

When they finally injected the Propofol, I was instantly disappointed not to feel the wonderful effects, “It doesn’t appear to be working,” I said.  That was the last thing I remember until I was back on the ward.

I am upbeat about the results, although I don’t yet know the full picture. If there were anything to cause weight loss, surely they would have seen something there and then. They did remove six polyps and some kind of procedural biopsy. I do have Diverticular disease, which is common in our western diet. The lab tests take up to eight weeks, but I’m sure they will respond sooner if there is anything untoward.

I really don’t know what to think about the weight loss. I stopped reducing the MH meds four weeks ago, so technically the weight should start to stabilise. If it continues to drop over this weekend, I can go back to the family Doctor, or otherwise wait for the results and take it from there. Altogether, I am not concerned. For now, I just need to get my therapy head back on.

Worried about…

For the first time in my living memory, today I could not help but feel my isolation. I built this castle and moat with my bare hands, but when there is a bit of a health scare unfolding, people tend to need family and friends around them. All of a sudden, it feels as though I am very much alone.

When I wrote the other day about my scheduled colonoscopy this week and the possible health concern(s), it’s fair to say I was fairly upbeat and unconcerned, but this week things are taking on a slightly different shape.

When I realised the weight was dropping, I immediately put it down to a reduction of Quetiapine. In retrospect, that theory is rather ridiculous because the reduction of medication was a miniscule amount. I stopped the reduction four weeks ago, but it had no impact on the weight loss.

If you’ve ever been overweight, which I was by just over 50lbs, you will understand how great it is to watch the numbers on your digital scales reduce by 2lbs every week, with absolutely no effort on your part. Perhaps you would be worried, but for some odd reason, I didn’t seem to grasp the extent of the calculations.

The Doc explained yesterday that 1-2lbs is actually a healthy weight loss, but only if you’re working hard to achieve it with an exercise regime and diet plan. I’m afraid my slow strolls through the park with a walking stick, nightly ice cream, large chocolate egg, or that box of chocolates over Easter, is not their idea of rigorous exercise or a strict diet.

I suddenly realised yesterday that, of course, there is something not quite right. It’s impossible not to allow the scenarios to play out in my mind. I’m not so much worried about myself, only about my little Jack Russell… go figure! I don’t mean I’m expecting to kick the bucket (die), but any hospital stay would be disastrous for him.

The one good thing about Thursday’s colonoscopy is that they tell me the results afterwards. Nevertheless, no matter what way I look at this, there are a number of hospital visits ahead, as we try to discover the reasons behind the mysterious weight loss.

I’m only beginning to see light at the end of the tunnel in relation to my mental health, but it seems I have something physical to contend with during the next few weeks or months. I am not too good at dealing with the unknown.

Tomorrow is the day that fills me with dread. I cannot eat or drink anything other than water after breakfast. Between 4.30 and 6pm, I need to take the first rocket powered laxative sachet and apparently I’ll erupt out my rear end like there is no tomorrow. That should be fun.

Please accept my apologies for not being on top of my usual blogs. I hope I’ll get the chance tomorrow to catch up, in between therapy and trotting back and forth to the loo. Fingers and toes crossed