Archives: Firsts

On Saturday, K and I travelled down to Covent Garden to help out some friends who’ve been working on one of this year’s Battlefront campaigns about organ donation.

Both of the girls concerned have siblings who have been saved by a transplant, so it’s hugely personal to them and one of them, Hope, is looking likely to see her mum go through the same thing soon.

Sarah has covered things in far more detail (and with many more pictures) on her blog, so I won’t rewrite the wheel (no, hold on…), but rather just say that for two young women to achieve what they did this weekend is remarkable in so many ways.

Both of them have been through huge amounts of emotional trauma with their loved ones in recent years and both would be forgiven for packing it all away in a mind-cupboard at the back of their brain to sit in storage, untouched for years to come. But instead, they choose to fight, to promote organ donation to as many people as possible and to set a new world record for the biggest number of sign-ups to the organ donor register in one hour.

I wrote last week about remarkable women I know; you can certainly add these two to the list.

The plan was that by this time today1, I should have been arriving at a hotel in Scotland with the rest of the 3 Peaks team to prepare ourselves to tackle the immense 3 Peaks Challenge this weekend.

As we all know, other things happened to get in the way of that.

I’m absolutely gutted that I’m not going to be with Ben, Dave, Gary and my bro this weekend and that I’m not going to feel the immense sense of achievement (and exhaustion) on Sunday morning that I anticipated feeling. What makes it worse is the fact that this is now 2 years in a row when my health has got in the way of the very same challenge, with the very same team of people.

I’ve dealt for many years with the ups and downs of my health, but I’ve always managed to come out of things with a positive spin and so it is with this. Despite thinking that after transplant I wasn’t going to face these kinds of disappointment, I’m finally starting to hear the sense in my own words, spoken at almost every event I speak at: transplant is not a magic bullet, it’s simply exchanging one set of problems for another.

Don’t get me wrong, there is nothing – NOTHING – that I would change about my life right now. Transplant has saved and transformed my life and allowed me to be the person I always wanted (and believed) I could be. It’s allowed me to do all the things I’ve always wanted (and believed I could) do.

Events like the things that have been happening recently serve only to remind me that although I have downsides, so does everyone else. And thanks to my transplants, my troughs are a hell of a lot shallower than before – and than many other people deal with every day – and my peaks are a hell of a lot higher.

So it leaves me simply to suck it up and move right along – knowing in my heart of hearts that not going this weekend is the right decision and knowing that something else will soon come along to excite, entice and energise me as I move forward.

As a result of recent events, my life is going through a lot of changes, but they are all enormously exciting and I know that the best times of my life lay ahead. It’s time to knuckle down, get on with it and start taking my first steps forward to the brave new world to which I’m being introduced.

1. around 4.30pm as I write this [↩]

By now you’ll have read the other two posts and, possibly, seen my Tweets on the subject, too, but I’m home safe and sound after the craziness of the preceding weeks. Here’s what happened on the final day of investigations at the John Radcliffe in Oxford.

At 8.30am I was informed I’d be going to the angio theatre at around 11am to get everything sorted. 10 minutes later I was told it would be 9am instead. A rapid shower and gowning later, and I was riding my bed down the corridors to the radiology department, where I was met by an assortment of nurses, doctors and, I think, and anaesthetist (although she could have been just about anything).

The nurse checked out my groin and deemed that I’d not shaved well enough, so gave me a rapid going over with a dry razor, following which I was immediately sterilised with surgical alcohol. Yes, yes it did hurt. A lot.

Next came the ironically-painful local anaesthetic injections around the artery in my groin, followed by a frankly disconcertingly painful and uncomfortable pull, pushing, pressing and scratching as the doc inserted a fairly large tube into my artery and begin sliding the angio tube all the way in and up to the base of my neck.

Angiograms are very weird things, where you’re lying flat on your back with an X-Ray machine immediately above your face and one immediately to the side. As they inject the contract dye into you head to highlight the blood flow – and thus show any clots or aneurysms – you feel a hot rush that’s unlike anything you can describe beyond the feeling you get when you tense really hard to make yourself go red in the face.

What’s even weirder with a full angio, as opposed to the CT Angio I spoke about last time, is that they pinpoint very specific areas of your head, meaning you get the flushing sensation in extremely localised areas in your head. It’s incredibly bizarre and although not unpleasant, it’s not something I’d like to repeat to often. Or at all.

Back on the ward, I felt the familiar headache forming, but this time it was accompanied by a significant nausea as well and before long I was beside myself with pain and the urgent desire to throw up, coupled with being forced to lie flat on my back for 6 hours after the procedure to prevent the artery opening up again once it had clotted.

It turns out, although I was unaware of it at the time, mostly through sedative doses of Codeine and Tramadol for the pain, that I’d reacted to the dye they had used. Whereas the CTA had only cuased a headache, the far more significant doses of dye used in the full angio had resulted in a not-insignificant reaction on my part. The only good thing to come from it is that I don’t really remember a lot of it too clearly.

In the end, I improved quite rapidly once I was put on IV fluids and began to eat and drink again and I was discharged the following day with two conflicted reports on what had happened.

The registrar was of the belief that the whole thing had been caused by acute sinusitis and that the LP result had been a false-positive. This is a diagnosis I struggle with having seen my mum suffer through horrendous sinusitis in the past and not recognising a single symptom she described in myself. However, because it was the only thing that showed up on the CT1, I think the Reg decided to put it down to the visible.

The consultant, on the other hand, strongly believes that it had, indeed, been a sub-arachnoid haemorrhage, caused not by a ruptured aneurysm as is most common, but by a burst blood vessel that was so small it obliterated itself in the process, leaving no evidence whatsoever for the scans to pick up – something that happens in around 15% of SAH cases, she told me.  Her main evidence for this was based on the Xanthochromia found in the LP – a type of cell formed when red blood cells expire – which she doesn’t believe would have formed in the CSF through a badly-performed LP as it takes too long for the RBCs to break down to that stage.

So, essentially, I left the hospital with a clean bill of health, but feeling worse than when I did when I was transferred.  I’m now on an anti-convulsant drug to stop the blood vessels in my head spasming and causing more problems. I’m assured this is purely a precaution and the course only lasts 3 weeks, so I should be back to normal soon.

More on the changes that have been forced on my by this latest hospitalisation later in the week.

1. ie, that my sinuses were full of muck [↩]

Following my post from last Thursday about my admission to hospital, at the end of which, you will remember, I was waiting for a transfer to a neuro unit somewhere in the UK, the epic story of a simple headache continued for the next 6 days before finally reaching an inconclusive conclusion on my 29th birthday this last Wednesday.

I was (eventually) moved to the John Radcliffe Hospital in Oxford, where their neuro unit is considered to be one of the best in the country. On top of which, it was significantly easier for my family to come across and visit than a stay in central London would have been.

The Saturday after I arrived I was prepped and sent for a CT Angiogram, which is a regular CT scan1 plus a big bolus push of iodine-based contrast-dye to highlight all of the blood vessels. The idea was to look for aneurysms or weakenings in the walls of the blood vessels that usually show as small bubbles of blood. The concern with any aneurysm is that it could rupture and cause major bleeding on the brain, which in turn can cause strokes or even death.

The didn’t find anything.

It was at this point that the suspected diagnosis was made clearer to me through the far more knowledgeable nursing and medical staff at the JR; they suspected what’s called a sub-arachnoid haemorrhage. Here’s a couple of quick definitions to save me boring you to death if you couldn’t care less about the rest of the medical jargon and info.

I then spent the rest of the weekend locked up on the ward on 4-hourly obs and not allowed to stray for more than 30 minutes and then only if accompanied by a family member. Strict isn’t the word, but then I suppose the kind of issues they deal with are much more serious than most of the hospital wards I have frequented in the past, where a minor hiccup is unlikely to lead to instant chronic brain failure or death.

On Sunday afternoon, I was told by the weekend doctor that he suspected the LP from Harefield had been a false positive from the two failed attempts before the successful one2 and that further tests were unlikely to be ordered.

To my surprise, then, I was consented for a cerebral angiogram first thing on Monday morning, with no real explanation of the reasons beyond the fact that it’s the best test to check or aneurysms. Clearly, the weekend doc wasn’t the one in charge of my case and made a slightly sweeping statement in leading me to believe all was well and I’d be on my way home as soon as the docs on my case could process the discharge paperwork.

Waiting around, nil-by-mouth, all day for a procedure you don’t know a huge amount about is slightly frustrating, but not nearly so much as being told ten minutes after lunch has been round that they won’t be performing it that day.

I would go on to have the full angio the following morning, but that’s a whole story in itself.

The epic adventure continues tomorrow….

1. of the kind I’d had to Harefield the day I was first admitted [↩]
2. meaning the sample was contaminated by blood from outside the CSF [↩]

If you’re reading this, you probably already know that I’m currently residing in Harefield Hospital following a ruptured cerebral aneurism on Sunday. Here’s the lowdown:

Sunday night, around 8pm, just as I was returning from my dinner break to put the final touches to the project that was due in on Monday, I developed a sudden, severe headache at the top of my neck where the spine meets my skull. Within minutes, it had spread right around my head, which alternated between feeling like someone was drilling into it and my brain trying to explode out of it.

By 8.30 I couldn’t function and was laid on the bed in pain, feeling sick. By 9.30 I’d started vomiting and wouldn’t stop for the next 24 hours.

After failing to keep down one dose of immunosuppression and knowing the morning dose wouldn’t stay down, either, I headed in to Harefield where they rapidly took a CT of my head and found nothing.  To be on the safe side, they then opted for a lumbar puncture (or spinal tap) to see if I had signs of blood in my cerebro-spinal fluid1.

Although clear to the naked eye, tests that returned on Tuesday confirmed the presence of blood and, hence, a probably bleed on the brain.

Since Tuesday, I have been improving progressively and now feel right as rain and ready for action. The doctors, however, disagree.

It’s extremely unusual to have any kind of bleed like this at my age2 and the obvious concern is that a small aneurism (pocket of blood) had a small bleed that caused the initial headache, but could fully rupture at any time and cause more life-threatening consequences.

Personally, I’m not worried about that at all. Harefield have been trying for the last 3 days to get me transferred to a specialist neuro unit with little success, which indicates to me that none of the neurosurgeons who have looked at my file are overly concerned.

That said, it’s obviously far too big a gamble to ignore it all together, so my current state of limbo is being sat in Harefield whiling away the hours and days until a bed becomes available for me at either Charing Cross or, more likely, the John Radcliffe Hospital in Oxford3.

Without going into more medical and boring detail, that’s pretty much the skinny for now. No idea if/when I’ll have access to my laptop again when I’m moved, so there may not be updates as regularly as you may like, but the latest news will be posted on my Twitter feed as it comes in.

Finally, many thanks for all the love and support you’ve all shown over the last couple of days since we first made the news public, it means a lot to me and to K as well, who’s obviously had quite the time of it over the last week and is coping with her typical strength and humour.

1. NB – blood in the CSF is NOT a good thing [↩]
2. a tender 28 until next Wednesday [↩]
3. also my preferred choice [↩]

As the old proverb tells us:

Every great journey begins with a single step…

Today, my great journey to summit the 3 highest peaks in the UK within 24 hours began with the single, simple step of inducting myself at the gym.

I’ve been lucky enough to be sponsored by Topnotch Healthclubs with a gym membership and, if you’ll pardon the pun, top-notch training advice and personalised programmes to get me ship-shape and walking-fashioned in time for the challenge in June.

This blog, in what must been its umpteenth iteration1, will become home to OLI’S 3 PEAKS – the online diary of my build-up, training, highs and lows of my bid to raise awareness of organ donation by attempting a frankly very silly challenge for someone with a) a total lack of any kind of physical fitness and b) a very low tolerance for pain or discomfort.

Here, as they say, goes nothing….

1. having followed pre- and post-transplant journey and a short “trial” stint at university [↩]

My body decides that 6.30am is a good wake up time this morning and, as the room is freezing and the wind is rattling the door, any chance I have of convincing myself to go back to sleep is thrown out of the window, so I get up, close the window over lest the same fate should befall the lovely K1 and head downstairs.

I make myself a cup of tea with the penultimate tea-bag in the house2 and sit down to catch up on emails, news and blogs from the last two days since I’ve been out of the office for most of them. I promptly let my tea go cold and debate whether to walk to the shops but a) it looks freezing outside and b) I’m digging too far into the news blogs to leave my laptop.

By late-morning I’m all caught up on everything I’ve missed and have worked my way through two scripts that were in my To Read pile. I fire off an email of feedback to the writer/director of one of them, but promise myself a second read of the other, since it’s being pitched to me as a possible new producing project and I think it needs a more careful evaluation.3.

K eventually rouses herself and announces (shock of all shocks) that she actually had a good night’s sleep and feels rested and happy – not a common thing for K of a morning. She also informs me that we’re popping next door at 2 to give Wee C4 his delayed Christmas present that various events colluded to prevent us handing over pre-Christmas (or even pre-New Year).

Back from that we take a stroll down the road and pick up some tea and milk, then K hits the sofa to dig into some statistics homework while I clean up the kitchen, including mopping the floor from Thursday’s jumping cider incident (it’s been a bit sticky since).

That done, I head upstairs and have a chill out in the bath, followed by some relaxation, then make a few phone calls that I needed to catch up on, including chasing up a commission that came my way yesterday.

Phone calls finished, I try (and fail) to wrap my head around K’s statistics stuff to see if I can be of any help, but drawing a blank on that I instead fall back on my dinner-cooking talents and rustle up some griddled pork and accompaniments.

After dinner, K hits the sofa again and I head up to the office to check messages and update the blog. When K’s brain has exhausted itself and her mind is a whirl of statistical mess we play a quick game of Bananagrams before heading to the movie room and throwing in the original BBC STATE OF PLAY series, which K’s never seen. I realise I’ve forgotten just how much I love this show as we get through two hour-long eps back-to-back and could quite easily have stayed up and got through all 6 in one straight marathon, but I’m keen for K to rest up before Uni starts on Monday, so I drag us both to bed for sleep.

1. although that’s hardly likely as she sleeps like the dead once she’s nodded off [↩]
2. naturally leaving the other for K the tea monster [↩]
3. the first of the scripts is another project i’ve been producing that’s been slowly working through numerous drafts over the last few months [↩]
4. the neighbour’s 3-year-old [↩]

The alarm wakes me at 8am, which is the latest I’ve been up all week (I figure I deserve it). I get out of bed, shower and rouse K so we can make our 9.35 train to London.

We get in to Town and K heads off to Angel to Uni, where she’s meeting her study group to polish up their joint project while I head down to Waterloo to meet up with HC, a filmmaker friend of mine. It’s good to finally see her as we live a life of constant “we must meet up” messages and rarely manage to find time that both of us are free to actually do it.

We pick each other’s brains about various work-related thing, as well as chatting about new projects we have on and our hopes and plans for 2011. The hour-and-change we spend in a lovely little South Bank café1 passes way too quickly before I’m back on a tube and headed North to Angel.

I meet K to accompany her to a meeting with her Uni that she’s organised to try to sort out arrangements for her placement this term, which goes very positively and we’re in and out inside half-an-hour.

K smuggles me in to the uni library using one of her study-mates passes and I stick my head into their room to say hello to the group and thank Sc for her card. They carry on working and I sit in the main library study area and battle (unsuccessfully) with the WiFi before giving up and settle into preparing a business plan for the new project I’m working on with CR that doesn’t require ‘net accesses.

While I’m working I get an email from a Twitter contact who was involved in Danny Lacey’s LOVE LIKE HERS offering me a Line/Co-Producer role on her new short. As it’s on my Blackberry, I can’t read the script, but I file it away to come back to later once I’ve got chance to access the ‘net and read it.

I also get an email from THE PRODUCTION OFFICE commissioning me for 12 new eps of THE LOWDOWN for them this year, which is a really nice boost. I’ve had great feedback in the past on the videos I’ve done for the show and it’s always flattering to be asked to come back and do it again. I accept without hesitation.

When K wraps up her study group, I pack up my things and we stroll back up to Angel and grab the tube to St Pancras, where we’ve just missed a train home. There’s one every half-hour, though, so it’s not the end of the world and we hit Foyles bookshop to kill some time, with me wading through the business section as a bit of market research.

We hop the train and ride some, K zoning out with tiredness while I read an eBook on her iPad for the first time. I’m impressed at how nice it is to read on it, as I’ve only used it for games and “useful” apps before. The workflow for reading PDFs is a little fiddly, but once they’re on there, it’s great.

We get home and swing by KFC for K and I whip myself up some chicken mayo sandwiches from the leftovers in the fridge2. We watch some SIMPSONS while we eat, then head up to the movie room and the PS3 to stream the first ep of FAMOUS AND FEARLESS that we missed on Monday, which we jump through the key moments of before coming back down to tonight’s Sky+’d final. It’s such an odd show – potential to be very, very good, but the live studio format necessitates quite a lot of padding. That said, if it weren’t live it wouldn’t have the same edge to it, so it’s a bit of a conundrum for the producers. It’s great to see Chris Evans doing good TV again, though – I miss TFI FRIDAY.

It’s late once F&F is over (well done Charley Boorman) and we take ourselves off to bed where I read for all of 10 minutes before conking out.

1. Earl Grey for her, green tea for me, both served in little bowls [↩]
2. K’s not a sandwiches kinda girl [↩]

New Year started, as most do, at midnight. K & I were down at the Black Bottom Club in Northampton for the second year running. This year was a little different, with a rocking indie band as opposed to the more chilled jazz band of last year. Different, but not worse.

After seeing in 2011 we eventually rolled back home after a detour to drop S&G off at theirs around 2.30am. I drove, which meant sobriety for me, but K was not so hampered by the restrictions of driving laws and just about managed the stairs to bed before crashing out.

Being in bed after 3am, I was pretty disappointed that my body decided to wake me at 10am. Granted, 10am is a pretty good lie in for me, but I felt like I could do with at least a couple more hours.

I get up, grab some brekkie and make some tea and sack out on the movie room sofa to explore the 007 game K picked up for me this week to go with the free PS3 she got on her new phone contract just before Christmas. I get one stage in (the pre-credit sequence) before her ladyship awakes and comes to join me.

I shut the PS3 off and come downstairs, making us both tea. We opt for a movie and flick through the Sky planner, eventually settling on SAVE THE TIGER, a Jack Lemmon flick from the 70’s that neither of us have seen or heard of. Turns out to be pretty good, but halfway through K’s not liking it and heads off to catch some more Zzz’s. I finish the flick while updating the blog and being sure to pimp it on Twitter before shutting down to head up for some kip myself.

I realise as I’m getting upstairs that I’m not actually tired enough to sleep, so I wonder what to do with myself. I to-and-fro up and down the stairs, make some coffee and a cuppa for the not-sleeping-either K and leave her to try out her new Mario 25th Anniversary edition game on the Wii.  I head upstairs to the movie room and throw on WAR OF THE WORLDS as background while I do some stuff online.

No sooner is it on, however, than I change my mind and decide it’s about time I sort the DVD collection out. It’s been randomly thrown on shelves since we moved in August and it drives me nuts having to hunt out the film I want to watch when I used to be able to grab it from my stack without a bother in the flat.

I empty the shelves and discover I’ve got enough DVDs to entirely cover the floor and I set about constructing a heavily-geeked up system of storage, based on genre, director and other random categories.

Around 4,30 I finish up the sort, although still with minor adjustments to be made, and jump into the shower before we head over to my ‘rents for a New Year’s dinner of roast lamb with all the trimmings. Awesome meal down, we chill with the ‘rents and play some Bananagrams1 before heading back to ours and getting in just after 9.

K retreats to bed, nursing a delayed hangover and over-eating-itis2, while I jump on the corner sofa downstairs, legs up, old episodes of ED from Sky+ playing the background while I download the NYE pics and write this, the very first ‘new’ post on the combined archive blog.

I note my paunch staring at me as a look down on the laptop screen and realise just how important my fitness goals for this year are. The belly will be banished.

Despite aiming for a 2 ep max, I end up on the sofa until nearly 1.30am at which point, 5 eps in to a mini-ED-a-thon, I close up shop and head upstairs.

1. an awesome game that both Mum and I bought for presents this Christmas, based on our deep love of playing a friend’s version [↩]
2. a sad curse of my Mum’s extraordinary cooking [↩]

Today marks the point 2 years ago when I received the ultimate gift from a wonderful person. It is, therefore, a day to celebrate.

Being currently ensconced up in Liverpool and far away from many of my friends, I’ve developed a slightly novel way of celebrating using the magic of Facebook and Twitter.

I’m asking anyone who wants to join me in celebration to find their own way to mark the occasion, whether it be a party, a trip to the pub or just raising a glass in their living room and to take a picture of themselves doing it and upload it to either the Facebook event page or onto Twitter.

If you’re on Facebook, search for “Oli’s 2nd Second Birthday. Party Where You Are Party” or find my profile and get to it from there. If you’re a Tweeter, simply use the hashtag #oli2nd.

Have a great day today and, if you get chance, raise a glass to me and my donor.