This blog post was meant to be about Norway. But the promised post about Norway has not yet materialised and all has been rather quiet on the gecko front.
Usually there are three likely reasons for blog silence. Firstly, either poor connectivity, or I am travelling, or an an escapade where there is no internet then inevitably there is no blog activity. My Christmas adventure to was such an example. Secondly, if I have something really worrying me, like the time of the wirple and I retreat into my shell and introspect and worry. Then I tend to say nothing, until I have something to say. Especially if it is something worrying me. Sharing worries is not something I am good at. And the third reason for blog silence, is because something is wrong, or something unwanted going on. And that is the case right now.
I am still in the midst of processing this, and in fact we are still trying to stabilise and resolve this. A great deal is still unclear but I can share some basic details. Early last week I had a sudden onset of nasty chest pain. I was unable to lie down, and found breathing very painful. Cutting a long story short, I had a few diagnostic tests in Yangon which showed a possible pulmonary embolism (clot on the lung). I was hurriedly shooed off to Bangkok for further tests and am still in hospital here. While we are not clear about how this has arisen (a possible side effect of Tamoxifen, possibly linked to the extensive recent travel, lack of rest and many other possibilities), it does appear that this is what I have. To my already significant daily cocktail of drugs , Warfarin has now been added. And I am currently having shots of anticoagulant into my stomach twice a day which is making me resemble some kind of watering can. A psychedelic watering can in fact, with the glorious colour scheme which is emerging! How Sixties is that?
I have to say though, this really has knocked me for six both physically and emotionally. I feel vulnerable and frightened. The cancer diagnosis confronts us brutally with our mortality and we all know how that changes our perspective on life. But this kind of episode is a different kind of scary. With cancer I knew that I was not likely to die in the coming hours or days. This kind of diagnosis, however, was more immediately life threatening and brought a different kind of fear with it.
In that though, there is a ray of sunshine. A bright, dazzling ray of sunshine. The diagnostic tests included a CT scan and Dr W tells me that there is no sign that any cancery stuff is behind this. And let’s be honest, this was something obviously weighing heavily on my mind.
In the meantime, I continue the twice daily shots into my stomach, with the suggestion that I should self administer these. To say that this thought gives me the heebie jeebies is the understatement of several millennia rolled into one. That is the extent of my cowardice faced with needles. However, I think it is something I slowly need to get my head round if I want to get a grip on this whole thing. The main challenge to self administration is how to get beyond the need to either look the other way, or close my eyes firmly when a needle approaches me. In fact, I usually do both – just to be sure.
I hope to venture over the threshold back into the outside world tomorrow, and return to the hospital for blood draws and the jabs while waiting for the levels to regularise. And then I might be able to get the promised Norway post up here.