Eeny meeny miney mo

Anyone reading this blog could be forgiven for thinking that I'm a hypochondriac but the fact is I'm not. I hate being ill, I hate that I could be thought of as weak.

I was rarely ill as a child, I didn't get the normal childhood illnesses and I was 26 before I even had chickenpox (let me tell ya, chickenpox as an adult is nasty). The only time I was ill as child was when I was 11 and got the flu. Not just the rotten cold kind of flu, it was the all out disabling kind of flu.

A month or so after that bout of flu I started showing signs of diabetes - weeing a lot, ultra thirsty, losing weight. But Type 1 diabetes is insidious and no-one really noticed anything was wrong until the day I felt too ill to go to school. That day was a dramatic one, I started the day lying on the sofa feeling poorly but looking reasonably normal but by the end of the day I was a virtual skeleton, in a coma and hammering on death's door. Eventually after a botched diagnosis by a drunk doctor I ended up being rushed into hospital by ambulance complete with blues and twos and when I got there diabetes was swiftly diagnosed. I believe that flu virus weakened my pancreas.

So here I am enduring a lengthy sick leave following my hysterectomy. One of my goals on this sick leave was to spend a little time at my local GP's surgery getting a few niggling little things taken care of - yes in addition to my major problems I also suffer the things that normal people suffer with. Nothing earth shattering just a few things that I haven't had time to go to the doctors about because the big things take up too much time. It's a logistical challenge finding time to go to the doctor when you spend 15 hours a week attending the hospital for dialysis whilst trying to hold down a full time job and the doctors surgery is only open in the hours that I'm either at the hospital or at work.

I made an appointment over a week ago for next Friday, the rottweiler* on reception said that was the soonest they could fit me in unless I needed an emergency apointment. Well nothing I want to discuss could be considered an emergency so I meekly thanked her and now I'm cooling my heels waiting for Friday to roll around.

Now here's my problem, I have several things that I would like to sort out but I'm only allowed to discuss one problem per appointment.

1. I've had a dry, irritating cough for several months now. It's only a little tickle but when it flares up I end up coughing so much I'm almost sick. It usually strikes me at night and I wake up coughing several times during the course of the night. I'm also being woken every hour or so with night sweats caused by losing my ovaries which oh by the way has also affected my blood sugar levels causing me to wake sometimes with very low blood sugar. It all adds up to very little sleep. I'm so blooming tired all the time, I have huge bags under my eyes and the skin round my eyes is so dark sometimes it looks as if some deranged makeup artist has been attacking me with plum coloured eyeshadow. I think I'm almost through the hormonal rapids now so the cough is the last thing to be fixed.

2. A few weeks ago I discovered a lump on my arm. It's about the size of a halved gobstopper, slightly irregular but quite firm, not painful at all. I thought initially I must have bumped myself but no bruise has come out. Obviously as I had pre-cancerous cells in my womb requiring the hysterectomy I'm thinking the worst about this lump, it's human nature isn't it - to think the worst? I can't afford to wait and see because of the impending kidney transplant, any cancer treatment will kill the new kidney.

3. I have struggled for years with depression. I had treatment for post-natal depression but once I felt better I stopped taking the pills. It's been a downward trend ever since then. A few years ago I was prescribed antidepressants but as I read the blurb that comes with all medications these days I learned that the pills might bring on suicidal thoughts. WTF? They're supposed to make me feel better! I didn't take them and I've struggled gamely on since then. I seem to function on 2 different levels. When I'm at work I'm OK, my pride won't let me do a shitty job. But when I'm home alone on say a day off I drift around the house or watch telly, I can't bring myself to go out and do something interesting or useful.

Six weeks of sick leave has brought home to me just how depressed I am. Most people would be revelling in the time off work giving them freedom to do the things they enjoy. Well despite the fact that I healed fantastically after my surgery and was able to move around freely much sooner than expected, I have done virtually nothing other than sit and watch the blasted telly. I desperately want to do other things but I can't motivate myself to get off my lardy arse and do them. It's as though I'm paralysed, trapped in my own head. I love my garden and it's in dire need of work but I can't seem to drag myself out there to do it. I'm sick to death of being fat and unfit but I can't make myself get up and exercise. Even blogging has seemed too difficult for me to get my finger out and write about all the things on my mind. I need help and if that help has got to come in the form of another tablet then I'm finally prepared to give it a go.

There are other things that needed sorting too (my achy-breaky-grindy knees, the lumps in my hands - I also have this thing called Dupuytrens Contracture; the many spider nevus on my legs (but now I've done some internet research to find a link I'm a little worried about them), the early signs of varicose veins) but they all get bumped down in the order of importance.

See I'm not a hypochondriac at all, all this stuff is ginuwine. So anyway I need y'all to help me decide which problem I should get sorted first - please vote on thingy to the right of the page (I've been just dying to try one of these out for ages).

*I know it isn't fair to refer to the doctor's receptionst as a rottweiler, I happen to have met some perfectly lovely rottweilers in my time and they can't be compared to doctor's receptionists at all.