Just Let Me Sleep

[Again, posted retrospectively, as I was in absolutely no fit condition to post on the day]

OMFG! That has to be one of the worst 24-hours in my life.

This update has the potential to be very long, so grab a cuppa and make yourself comfortable...

...are we sitting comfortably, then we'll begin.

Yesterday was the day of my Total Thyroidectomy. We arrived at the hospital at a sprightly 8am, and reported to the Admissions Office. I'd been fasting from 10pm the night before, and hubby and mum had been great in the morning, skipping breakfast out of sympathy and trying to drink their tea/coffee as discreetly as they could (bless!). As we drove past the petrol station with the *best* coffee machine in the whole wide world, hubby very cleverly distracted me with some inane conversation, and continued on the journey to hospital.

The ladies in Admissions gave me my file and sent me up to my ward, where I was greeted by the sister...and instructed to loiter near the nurses station and await further instructions.
First was a quick interview with my surgeon's registrar, he drew blood for testing, and filled out some forms.
Then sister came and asked me the same questions, and quite possibly filled out identical forms.
There was no bed presently available...and so we were given the ward sister's office as our temporary HQ...that's when it all started feeling a little surreal. However I was assured my op would be done shortly, and there would be a bed available when I came back up from the Recovery Room.
The next interview was with my anaesthetist...and I have to say she was absolutely lovely! She answered all my stupid questions with confidence and more than a little humour and humility. For me the biggest fear has NEVER been the operation itself, I have been looking forward to getting that gland removed...my biggest fear has ALWAYS been the general anaesthetic....I guess I've watched too many hospital dramas and hospital horror films....and when I asked her if I would wake up, she beamed and said " yes of course, I guarantee it 100%". She must have been a little confused by my look of complete horror, and then understanding dawned on her, when in my small (now shaky) voice I continued "...during the operation"....she laughed, held my hand, and again said "I absolutely 100% guarantee that you will not wake until I allow it"
I was brutally honest about my smoking, and the fact that I had tried and totally failed to give up prior to the operation...but she said that whilst it did make things a little more difficult for her, it certainly didn't make it impossible and wasn't really that much of an issue. She constantly reassured me that she didn't foresee any complications at all. She filled a few more forms out, and then told me she'd see me in the theatre.
Sister bustled back in to the office and informed me that I'd go down to the theatre within the next hour and a half, but first I had to go and get an ECG....this would help the anaesthetics team get a good picture of my heart, immediately prior to the op. So off we trotted, and got hopelessly lost...I'd always gone up to the ECG rooms from the Outpatient's Dept in the past, and approaching it from a different direction threw me completely and I lost my bearings.
ECG done, and all looking good (or so I was told anyway) we trotted back up to the ward.
I was dying for a pee at this point, and hunted around the ward for a loo....aaaaaah!
Then literally, 2 mins after I'd visited the loo, Sister came in and asked me for a sample....but I've only just been!?
Sister said I'd be going down to theatre in an hour, but I had one more little mission to attend to...I had to go to the X-Ray Dept this time, and get a Chest X-Ray (an extra job because I was a smoker I guess). Sister suggested we go for a walk, and see if I could work up a pee sample that way. The chest x-ray was totally clear, which is always nice to hear when you're a smoker. And so we went for a bimble around the hospital. Mum and hubby by this time were flaking from not eating breakfast, so I conceded to let them go to the coffee shop, where they could scoff muffins and cappuccinos...whilst I nipped out to the smoking area (bad girl!). We were sitting around whilst they finished their coffee & cake, and thinking just *how* surreal this all was. Here I was, sitting in the coffee shop, fully dressed...and meant to be being wheeled in for a major operation in less than an hour...?
One more smoke, and then we headed back up to the ward. Sister asked if I'd managed to pee yet...but no such luck. She said I had half an hour to produce, or they'd bump me down the theatre list...talk about putting someone under pressure, and considering I'd been fasting completely (no food or drink) for the last 12+ hours, where was this pee meant to manifest from?
She told me that the pee sample was compulsory to test for pregnancy, and that without it they wouldn't go ahead.
I have an abiding memory of sitting in one of the loos, tears of frustration pouring down my face, pleading with my kidneys to do something, anything, anything at all...because otherwise all this would be for nothing, and if my bladder held out much longer I'd be sent home and bumped to the next day. I should add that Sister did apologise unreservedly for not giving me the sample pot as soon as I appeared on the ward that morning, as is her normal pre-op routine, but we caught her on the hop and she totally forgot...but that didn't change facts...if I didn't pee, I didn't get my trip to theatre.
Then joy of joys....the tiniest of dribbles....but Sister had assured me that even the smallest sample would be sufficient, I just had to hope this tiny dribble wasn't too small, as the thought of going through all the trauma of trying to pee again was too much!
Phew - she rewarded my efforts by giving me a sexy, back-less theatre gown to wear, along with some sex-kitten disposable knickers and a pair surgical stockings to die for (I've brought the stockings home with me - my hubby is a very lucky man!)
And then, dressed for a killer night on the town, we sat in a holding room...where Sister, tongue-in-cheek, asked my Mum if she had provided the sample for me, out of desperation. We all laughed and that helped break the tension that was now building inside me.
Sister explained that I had been moved down the list, but only by one place, and only because of the delay in providing my pee...but that the lady who had moved up in front of me was only having a small procedure done, and would be very quick. And so we waited.

But all too quickly it was time to go. I had hoped for a trolley or something, but no, Sister insisted I could walk just fine...and so, in my best theatre outfit, with my arse hanging out the back, we all trooped down to the theatres...hubby walking shotgun, and mum walking as close behind me as she could, without looking like a complete weirdo ha ha!

The would only let one relative into the Pre-Op Staging Area, and so mum came in with me...and finally I was given a bed/trolley to sit on, with a big fluffy duvet. A troop of various medical staff came along, with various (curiously identical) forms to be completed. A nice young man came u and introduced himself as my anaesthetist, and I think I confused the hell out of him when I told him that he wasn't the lady I met earlier...then he laughed and said she was his partner, and they worked in pairs.
My surgeon also paid us a quick visit. I almost didn't recognise him in his scrubs, I had only ever seen him previously in his suit etc. He talked through the procedure again, and reminded me of the potential problems, and also of the low statistical probabilities etc, etc, and then said if I was good-to-go he'd see me in there shortly.

We were given magazines to read, a stack of OK, and Hello, and I was dismayed to see the young lad in the bed next to me was given a copy of the latest Irish Vintage Scene...which he clearly didn't want to read. So when the nurse had disappeared I suggested a swap. Strangely he didn't want to read OK or Hello, but he did pass IVS over to me, so I could lose myself in lovely Vintage Cars whilst I waited for my call to theatre.

And soon enough, I was collected up and wheeled off down the corridor into the theatre itself. I had to shuffle myself over from the trolley and onto the operating table myself, which was more than a little surreal and most undignified, trying to hide my butt from all and sundry as I wriggled across...and when everyone trooped into introduce themselves I did ask them if they had forgotten something. They looked at me blankly, and so I asked them whether I was...erm...meant to be asleep right now...just in case they needed the fact that I was still wide awake and fully conscious made aware to them. Then my lovely lady anaesthetist walked in and said, "no, that's what I'm here for".
She gently laid my left arm on a sticky-outy panel (I just *know* that's the technical term for it!) and carefully put the cannula in. Various members of staff talked some inane chatter to me, and the last thing I remember is one of the theatre nurses holding my right hand and asking me how I coped walking 6 dogs....I remember feeling a bit frustrated because the words I wanted to use to answer her wouldn't come out...and then nothing...

...until those evil, nasty people in the Recovery Room started up with their Prisoner Of War Torture Techniques....you know the bright lights, the sleep deprivation, and shouting, lots of shouting...everything was so bright, and they all seemed so loud....but they got extra excited and extra loud every time I tried to close my eyes against the bright lights. I'm fairly sure I was rude to them, and more than once, as 'sod off' didn't seem to be working, so I had to reach into my head for much stronger ways of expressing myself. And all the inane questions they kept asking, over and over again....do you know who you are, do know what day it is, do you know where you are, do you know why you're here, will you open your eyes, keep them open, no you can't sleep, we won't let you, yada yada yada.....just leave me alone, I'm very tired and I want to sleep!

And I'm Officially On The List!

Well folks...if you missed my status update on Facebook yesterday, it looks like its all been brought forward...and I'm now officially waiting for my operation date Here in my grubby mits is a pink carbon cop of my Admission Request Form!

I should have posted here last night....but I'll confess I was a total emotional wreck yesterday and my head was all over the place....when a friend rang me yesterday to confirm my attendance on today's Festival Promotion jaunt I think I scared him silly, poor chap...I think he thought I was dying.
Its not as if I didn't know I was due to have this operation, I just thought I still had another 9 or so months to get used to the idea (as well as get thinner/fitter for the General Anaesthetic!)....but no, yesterday was officially my Pre-Op Consultation, with my surgeon leaving me with the immortal words, "next time we meet will be on the operating table"...so I guess I went into a kind of shocked state...and I couldn't honestly tell you what I did most of yesterday afternoon, apart from cry a lot

Apparently I'm now considered fairly urgent, as my goitre has now compressed my windpipe down to 8mm diameter (hence the freight train snoring, ultra hoarse voice and total inability to breathe if my head is held in certain positions)...and I was told that if it compresses the windpipe any more then they will have to something drastic & gory to open my throat up to allow me to keep breathing....which I have to say sounds fecking scary! And as my surgeon said, if they're doing that, then they might as well get on and do the thyroidectomy...and so he doesn't want to wait until its that serious....i.e its serious enough right now, without waiting any longer for it to inevitably get worse.

And also, as my thyroid is considered toxic...I will also have to go in a week or so earlier, in advance of the normal admitted pre-op hospital crap, so that they can forcefully block my thyroid from working. To reduce the 'withdrawal' my body will apparently go into almost instantly once the thyroid gland is removed, they need to get my TSH levels absolutely perfect (or as close-to as it will allow them), and sustain the levels there for a few days...and that's using meds & methods not available on prescription, presumably nasty IV stuff

After the op they won't release me until my calcium levels are stabilised and/or controllable...apparently calcium is the very first thing to react and go tits-up instantly once the gland is removed. He said normally this is 2 or 3 days, but one patient he did last year was held in for 6 weeks because they just couldn't get control over her calcium levels.

I have absolutely no idea how the system works...but I presume, because of the co-ordination required between the ENT dept and the Endo dept, with regards to getting me in early and getting my levels stable...that hopefully means I won't get my op 'bumped', so once I'm in I'm staying...if that makes sense?

I have a routine appointment with my Endo on the 20th April...so if I haven't heard anything before then I'll hopefully be told more then, and maybe given a time-frame.

My surgeon just said he was aiming to do it ASAP...but I don't know if that means next week, next month or next year

ENT Surgeon Appointment - 13 July 2009

Out of bed early, after an exhausting week away. I wake up dizzy, and continue to have short dizzy spells as I got about my morning chores. A little perturbed I check my blood pressure. It comes in at 144/75, systolic is a little high at 144, but diastolic is good at less than 80...neither reading would explain the dizzy spells, so I put it down the last remaining dregs of this head cold I've been suffering from.
A quick bath, then I head up the road. I'm getting used to the alarming amount of hair that comes out when I wash my hair, regardless of the amount of conditioner I use...but its still distressing to see all that lovely hair just falling out all over the place, with very little encouragement. I often get my husband to detangle my hair after a bath/shower as I just find it too upsetting. Its easier to close my eyes and let him deal with it...out of sight, out of mind.

Its over an hours' drive to the hospital and all the way I'm chasing the ETA on my Sat Nav, inevitably I'm running late and getting stressed.
I land at the receptionist's desk at 10.57am, for an 11am appointment...and proceed to be ignored for 5 minutes as the two receptionists go about their business, discussing last night's TV with passing nurses, and basically appearing to do all they can to avoid dealing with me. I'm wondering if I'd mistakenly worn my invisible jumper when one of them deigns to notice me.
The checking-in process completed I take my seat, thankful that I'd remembered to pack a book into my handbag.

Two hours later and I'm regretting not putting two books into my bag, as I turn the last page on the book I started just two hours previously.

I sneak out of the open door for a cigarette, leaving my name with a fellow patient, also waiting patiently for their appointment, also two hours after their allotted appointment time.

Finally, 2½ hours after my appointed time of 11am I am called in to see Dr H. The first thing he asks me is if I've had my CT Scan yet. Sadly the reply is negative, and I can see from his expression that this meeting is kind of pointless without the CT results. We joke good naturedly about hospital efficiency. I point out that I am returning to the hospital in one week's time to see my Endocrinologist anyway, and wouldn't it be great if the CT Scan was scheduled for the same day, to save me an extra trip into the hospital...and we both laugh at this highly unlikely scenario. That would make far too much sense to whomever is responsible for scheduling such things.
Undeterred by my lack of CT Scan results, he proceeds to poke and prod at my neck anyway. He has a good poke in my ears (heaven only knows why?), pokes his torch up my nose....(well I suppose as an ENT Surgeon he wants to get his money's worth from any patient), before sticking his hands around my throat again for a further squeeze. He squirts yucky tasting stuff up my nose and assures me that my nose and throat will shortly go numb. I can taste ammonia, he tells me its benzocaine based....either way it stinks, and tastes horrible as it slides down the back of my throat....but it isn't half as unpleasant as the huge long scope he then pokes up my nose, and pushes down my throat. Quite a strange sensation....I don't think my throat is as numb as it should be, I can feel every centimetre of it and its at least 30cm long. Feels odd to talk to him, and answer questions, while this huge long piece of cable is sitting at the back of my throat, by way of my left nostril.
After it is removed my nose runs uncontrollably, and the attending nurse kindly passes me a packet of tissues. She advises me not to drink or eat anything for at least an hour, until the anaesthetic properties have worn off.
Dr H ponders what he has seen and announces that he thinks the Goitre on the right side has spread under my collarbone, and that this will make extraction more complicated. We will know more and have a clearer picture once this damned CT Scan has been done, but for now all we can do is speculate. Mysteriously he tells me that if it is down under my collarbone he won't be able to perform the surgery here....I assume 'here' means this hospital, but I'm not too sure what this statement means. he goes on to discuss other things and I forget to ask him to clarify this statement. I must remember to ask my Endo next week if he has any idea what this means.

Then the discussion turned to weightier matters...if you'll pardon the pun. He expressed concerns, on behalf of his anaesthetist, regarding my weight, and he stated that he'd like me to lose a minimum of 6 stone (preferably 8 stone) before he'd consider passing me over to his anaesthetist...I guess this means he won't be scheduling me for surgery either, until I lose this weight....regardless of my CT Scan results, and regardless of my thyroid problems. Oh, and he'd like me to ditch the smoking too...well that's a given, and is high up on my to-do list as it is.
I joked that I'd set about starving myself between now and my next appointment and he did have the good grace to apologise in advance for his crassness, as he quipped that "no fat people came out of Belsen".

I go back to him in 2 months time....14th of September to be precise, and I will try my hardest to have lost at least a stone or two by then. Oh, and I'll be pi**ed off if I haven't managed to give up smoking by then too. If I haven't had my CT Scan by then, well I guess it'll be yet another wasted appointment....got to love the Irish Health System....

Frosty the Snowman

Quiet enough weekend.

Very cold over-night temperatures have kept me up at night, worrying about the two outside dogs...so I went on the scrounge around some local businesses on Saturday morning, begging for some freebies and offcuts, and came home with loads of polystyrene boards, thin ply, nails, and some rubber cow mat. And, after my now regular walk across the fields, we spend the morning insulating their kennel. Polystyrene slabs under the floor. Fixed the broken bit of the floor. Then polystyrene insulation up the inside wall and roof area, secured and made dog-safe with the thin ply. Then cow mats cut to size and laid on top of the wooden floor, and the final touch, put the kennel securely up on a pallet to get it off the ground.

I slept much better the following night, knowing that despite the sub-zero temperatures, the two outside boys would be much, much warmer now.

We settled in for an afternoon in front of the television for the first two matches of the 2009 Six Nations rugby....England vs Italy in Twickenham, followed by Ireland vs France in Croke Park, Dublin.

Delighted to see England win, although I don't think they played convincingly. I wish the media would lay off giving Bergamasco such a hard time though. I actually would have preferred France to win the 2nd game....yes I know I live in Ireland, but I'm not Irish, and the sycophantic Irish media irritate me whenever the Irish team do anything even half right. If Ireland ever did win the RU World Cup I think I'd have to leave the country.

Sunday's game between Wales and Scotland, up in Murrayfield, was another good opener for both teams, although a seemingly excessive amount of players being knocked unconscious, bordering on carnage! For a while it seemed there was a player out cold on the pitch every couple of minutes. Gutted for that poor lad Cross, his very first international cap, and he went off, out-cold on a stretcher. With the ref bleating on about giving him a yellow card (sin bin) but not wanting to award him to it on the stretcher, and the ref telling the medical crew that they may as well remove him from the pitch as he was being sent off anyway...to be honest I think that was a harsh penalty anyway, he'd committed to the try, and I don't believe he had time to pull out of it, but sure, what do I know. Hope he's doing OK anyway. Either way, I don't think the final score was a fair reflection on Scotland's performance over all, they had the seemingly *almighty* Wales running scared a few times, and deserved a better score out of it IMHO.

Anyway, still off the smokes (woo hoo!)

And still getting in the daily walks. Although had a day off on Sunday, loads of snow, very slippery, and nursing a few hot spots on my right foot, and calves feeling a little tight...so I figured a rest day was in order.

Felt the difference today though. Feet less sore, but the walk was harder work initially, assuming that's a by-product of having a day off, will know more as I do more - but I went further today, worked harder, and felt better about it all once I'd finished.

Almost felt restless yesterday that I wasn't strapping my boots on and heading out...but really think my feet and calves benefited from a rest day.

Weight has only dropped a lb though, which I find odd, expected more, but that's life I guess. And a loss is a loss!

Walking Log

So I finally went out for an official walk this morning. Timed. checked heart rate, everything. I'm getting very wrapped up (read: confused?) in resting heart rate, maximum heart rate, training 'zone' or training 'rate.

I'm aiming to keep my understanding of all this simple, follwoing the KISS theory, but at the same time I'm trying to get a basic handle on all these things so that if I am making the effort to get out there walking that I am working/walking hard enough to make a difference, to achieve my goals if you like.

For the record, and for me to be able to check back in the future. Anyone who *does* know about these things, please feel free to comment and/or point out any obvious errors I'm making.

Resting Heart Rate - usually between 78-82 bpm (clearly unfit)

Maximum Heart Rate (=220-35) - 185 bpm

Training Rate 60-80% of MHR - between 110 and 148 bpm

Do I have that right?

So, today, after 10 mins** of moderate pace walking; on gentle, undulating farm tracks; getting out of breath but not uncomfortably so; leg muscles feeling tight but not painful; still able to call out ot the dog that accompanied me.

Heart rate after 10 mins was 112 bpm.

So I've just about edged into the heart rate training zone, but should I try to work myself harder for better benefit....or keep it at the lower end of the training 'zone' for now while I ease back into a regular exercise schedule? Decisions, decisions, and I wish I understood enough about all this to make a more informed decision.

Alright, so 10 minutes isn't a huge feat...but heck, I'm a big girl, and baby steps are a good way to start I reckon. I plan to do 10 mins for a week, then up it in 5 min increments, a week at a time.

Oh...and I'm still smoke-free :o)

Walking In A Winter Wonderland

Got up extra early this morning, to get out there in the snow, with the dogs...and I wasn't disappointed, man I love snow!

Its melted a little since this morning....but we're still getting heavy snow showers on and off, so lots of the melted bits are slowly getting replaced with new, fresh snow.

Still off the cigarettes (woo hoo!) and looking forward to this afternoon's walk...in my very own winter wonderland!

Easy Like Sunday Morning

So far so good on the 'smoke-free' front...its been a whole, whopping 6 hours Not quite long enough to officially call myself a non-smoker ha ha!

But I was almost tempted to throw in the non-smoking towel this morning, after an interesting meeting with an unspeakably rude and arrogant microchipping client...a real 'Lady Muck' character, who really made me boil with her superior attitude.
In the end I just drove home, and didn't 'chip the dogs. I was fuming. I do this as a volunteer. I gave up my own time, on a Sunday morning, to accomodate her oh-so-busy-and-oh-so-important life. I'm a volunteer. No-one reimburses me for my petrol (gas). No-one reimburses me for my phone calls. No-one reimburses me for my time. All these things I give freely and willingly. I don't want to be reimbursed for these things. These things, and my expertise with dogs, are my donations towards the SPCA if you like. However, I do expect to be treated in a civil manner. I don't expect to be treated like a common scivvy, nor spoken to like I'm some horrible, inconvenient, piece of dirt on the bottom of her shoe. Grrrrr!
However, rather than having a huge blow-up row with her, I just turned around and drove home, seething and muttering to myself as I drove down her drive......but I didn't rush to the nearest shop and buy a packet of cigarettes, instead I drove to the nearest shop and bought some lovely looking whole-meal baps (bread rolls) for lunch instead.

Oh, I also bought a big fat 2 litre bottle of water....so there's no excuse for not drinking today's water allowance, and then having an emtpy 2 L bottle to fill each and every morning from now on. I'd like to think I turned my negative feelings, after I drove away from the rude person in anger, into a positive outing this morning after all.

Been getting the occasional headache the last couple of days, but I think that's directly connected to that fact that I've been caffeine-free since Thursday evening. I think I read somewhere that headaches were a common withdrawal symptom, so I'm just riding them through, and enjoyng my caffeine-free tea!

Plan for the rest of today.....hubby and I have planned to do as little as possible, and just chill out for the aftternoon and evening. I might even slip back into my pyjamas, then curl up on the sofa with a duvet and a good book...but I'll feel less guilty, because I have at least been out and about, and active this morning.

What A Difference A Day Makes

...24 little hours....

So much to say, so little time.

First off, missed weighing on Thursday morning because I was rushing to get to a doctors' appointment...but I was delighted to hop on the scales Friday morning, straight out of bed, and note a 2lbs loss...yay me! That's 5 lbs since January 1st, without really trying...so this week I will drink more water, start a sensible walking plan, pay more attention to what I'm eating, and make some real effort. Roll on Thurs 5th February...

The doctor's appointment?...well, to get my latest blood test results back. Some good news, some bad news....the bad offsets the good, and makes me a little sad to be honest. The good news is that my liver function tests, which were previously way out (leading me to worry I'd over done things in my student days) were back in normal ranges (yay!), proving my doctor right when she said at the time it was mostly due to my thyroid levels, but that we'd look into them more closely in the future if they didn't settle after I'd started on the thyroid meds.
The bad news...I had some hormone tests done this time around because I've been having really sucky monthly cycles for the last while...mainly a fortnightly cycle instead of monthly, with horrendous 'flooding' to the point where I literally dare not leave the house, for up to 7 days at a time, unless I have packed a whole 'going out' bag, complete with several changes of clothing and mammoth supplies of sanitary supplies (TMI I know, sorry), and had knowledge of access to a bathroom at all times, at a moment's notice. Well apparently my oestradiol levels (I'm sure I learnt this is 'oestrogen' at school?) are low, which apparently explains the awful time I'm having right now...but we don't know why, so again, for now, we're lumping that into the 'thyroid' package. With no current treatment plan, unless it doesn't improve in the future...so, I'm still stuck on this ridiculous 14 day cycle with no hope forthcoming, and a running joke in this house is whether to volunteer for an elective hysterectomy....not something to joke about I know! But, this 14 day cycle is really driving me insane.

And the remaining bad news from my blood tests is that, the current dose of thyroid medication is working really well...so well in fact, that I've swung from firmly hypERthyroid, to firmly hypOthyroid....which explains a lot of (hopefully *all*) the nasty new symptoms I've been experiencing, some old symptoms are back with a vengeance, and some nasty new ones have reared their ugly heads. My doctor made me promise *not* to alter my medication levels until I've been to my next endocrinologist appointment (two weeks and counting!), but I'm finding it really depressing to take my medication every morning now, knowing that instead of making me feel better, they are actively making me worse....

Thank heavens for a really understanding and totally supportive hubby, who has seen me at my absolute worst (and my absolute best, I hasten to add) and knows that the short-temper and mood swings are currently beyond my control. And bless him for not making jokes about my dry, scaly 'lizard' hands right now...yes, another symptom, because I'm really suffering from sense-of-humour failure these days, and often taking previously-funny little comments way too personally. So thank you Blogger, for providing a supportive portal, where I can get all this crap off my mind, writing to people who understand and may or may not be going through the same thing, and for allowing me to give my husband a break from venting my problems to him.

Yesterday afternoon I went out to microchip 5 dogs (I'm a qualified microchipper, and volunteer for my local SPCA) and came home to find the river had burst its banks and we were flooded (again). Ho hum...nursed my car, through the flood, to some higher ground near the paddock, and went for a wade to assess the damage. It didn't come in the house, thank DoG, but it was a close run thing. And my 2 SPCA foster dogs were in their outdoor run, balancing on the last piece of dry land they could find. So, a quick trip indoors to re-arrange things with my own 5 dogs, and I brought those 2 outdoor boys indoors. A few grumbles, and the occasional bicker over beds, but the rest of the evening passed relatively un-eventfully...this house is *WAY* too small for 7 dogs indoors, especially when one of the dogs (my own) is a grumpy, possessive terrier, with small-dog Napoleon syndrome and an attitude problem. He wanted to spend the evening hanging off the throats of the in-comers...instead, he spent the evening confined to his crate, not ideal, but safer for everybody concerned, and meant we could all relax a little more in front of the TV for the evening, as the other 6 get on really well together. The 2 'outside' boys slept in the bathroom overnight, and I was delighted to find it clean as a whistle this morning, so I can hopefully tick off the 'house-trained' box on their adoption forms at least. The floods started to recede around 5am this morning, and I could flush the toilet for the first time in over 18 hours around mid-morning today, phew! The 'outside' boys are now back outside, with their wet bedding replaced with clean, dry bedding....and their kennel and dog-run now comprising of more dry land than water features so hopefully everybody is happy. My washing machine is currently running the gauntlet of getting some more dog bedding clean and ready. The rain hasn't stopped all day, and I'm expecting the river to rise again at some point (flash floods off the nearby mountain), so I don't want to be caught short with last night's wet dog bedding.

During the week, hubby and I made a pact to quit smoking. We set the quit-time as Saturday night (tonight!). He's been out and bought himself a pack of nicotine replacement patches, and I'm straightening my own head to go it alone with will-power. So tonight we smoke our last smokes. Tomorrow we plan to wake up and go smoke-free. In the past when one has decided to quit, the other hasn't.....so we've been yo-yo quitting for a long time now, and that doesn't work. We've both proved to ourselves that we can go without, but the temptation when the other partner is lighting up is just too much after a day or two...so tonight, we finish our packs, destroy and dispose of any remaining cigarettes in the house, and go to bed to face the new day. Fingers crossed it works this time, for good! The health benefits alone make this an incredibly sensible idea, but the other basic fact is that at the moment we just can't afford to keep going. We're compromising on our food shopping budget to buy cigarettes (and that is just STUPID!), we're raiding savings accounts, and last week, the ultimate embarrassment was purchasing a packet of cigarettes after breaking into my copper coin piggy bank, and laying out the money on the shop counter in 1cent and 2cent coins...that has got to be desperate, and I want some pride back!

The weather is just too bloody awful right now to be motivated about specifically going out walking, but I'm trying to make more effort in my daily chores to do them in a more active way to compensate. I stride out with the dogs around the fields, I don't move my car from place to place in town, instead I park more centrally, and walk from bank to shop, to chemist etc. I make myself do the stuff my thyroid tells me that I can't be bothered to do, and I'm getting stuck into house-cleaning with a frenzy of activity. As soon as the weather shows any sign of breaking (just stopping raining would be good enough!) I *will* get my walking boots on, and get the hell out there!

Aww, crap, this turned out to be a loooong entry....I really need to work on perfecting those short, snappy journal updates...thanks for reading this far, if you're still awake.

Under Pressure

So, today I got the results back from my doctor regarding my 24hr blood pressure monitor...and whilst I was pleased enough with the averages, and could positively identify the causes of the 2 high spikes [full caffeine tea, and naughty (read: fighting) dogs]...my doctor was less than pleased. And whilst my 'waking' averages were what most blood pressure/hypertension websites consider the high side of normal or even mild-high, my doctor was still casting doom and gloom, looking at me like I was about to drop dead in front of her, and talking about that oh-so scary BP medication. Meanwhile nearly every BP/Hypertension website claims I'm well within the non-medication range...go figure, because I can't?

The way I look at it....I'm over-weight. I smoke. I currently lead a sedentary (computer-based) lifestyle, with my daily dog walks more closely resembling some mild wandering around the fields, whilst my (7) dogs run themselves into the ground. *I* know there are improvements I could make there, right now...and after the 24hr BP Monitor I'm determined to make some changes.
Oh yeah...I'm also hyperthyroid....and yeah, one of the many myriad of symptoms....high BP....so why do both my doctor and my endocrinologist choose to treat my (mild IMHO) high blood pressure as a totally separate issue, and rain fire and brimstone down on me, threatening imminent death....yet, lump all my other symptoms (hair loss, brittle nails, dry scaly skin, horrific periods, weight gain, mood swings, exopthalmia, chronic lethargy etc etc etc ad infinitum) into the mighty *thyroid* basket, and not treat *those* individually???
On the plus side, and there are a few, my cholesterol levels are low (DoG only knows how?), my blood glucose levels are well within range, my kidney and liver functions are good. My ECG results are consistently Good/OK, with no evidence of narrowing arteries or impending heart disease. So that rules out those doom-laden indicators that often go hand in hand with High BP.

So, how do I want to approach and face up to my (mild, I insist) high blood pressure?
- Well, I think, starting a good regular exercise plan is a good start....sure, I can't afford a gym membership, but walking costs nothing, and the gains are positive and immeasurable.
- Stopping smoking, that's a no-brainer....but easier said than done. Have done it successfully in the past going cold turkey....don't ask why I'm currently back smoking, after staying off them for over 18 months, let's just call it extreme stupidity on my part. In my experience the nicotine replacement therapies don't work for me, what does work for me is to give myself a thorough good talking to, get my head in the right place, and then stop, stop dead....before they stop me dead.
- Lose some weight. So far, I've lost 5lbs since Christmas, and that's without trying....I just need to show myself what I can do with a little more effort. My diet on the whole really isn't bad, no, honestly! (my hubby, who's been eating the same food as me for the last 10 years, is disgustingly slim, and got gold stars and heaps of praise from the medical team at his most recent workplace physical) But I could get a bit more strict with myself on portion sizes. Cut a little more fat out of the diet (cheese and mayo would be the main culprits), and for the sake of my blood pressure declare war on salt.
- Drop the caffeine. On average I probably drink 8-10 cups of tea in a normal day. I used to also find time to quaff up to 3 cans of Diet Coke a day. Combined with my total inability to pass a good coffee machine in a petrol station or shopping centre, and its hard to believe I wasn't wired to the moon 24hrs a day. Currently, I haven't had a single can of coke in several weeks. Bought my first box of thin (de-caff) tea last week, and managed to walk past a few coffee machines without engaging auto-pilot and filling up on hot coffee. Presently I'm having 1-2 cups of fat-caff tea in the morning, and then drinking thin (de-caff) tea the rest of the day. So far so good, and when the box of fat-caff teabags is finished I won't replace it, no matter how much hubby squeals.
- Drink more water, another easy no-brainer but a good habit I just can't seem to make stick. When I'm disciplined enough to fill an empty 2 litre bottle in the morning, then I'm generally disciplined enough to drink it....but often by the time I remember my good intentions its lunch time or later, and I give myself a thousand excuses as to why I can't be bothered to go fill the bottle and I promise myself to try harder the next day...you know how the story goes.

The BP Monitor results are a wake up call, and even if it involves lengthy arguing, pleading and bartering with my doctor and my endocrinologist, I'm determined to stay off BP medication...now is the time to listen to the alarm clock, and shake myself out of dreamland....!