Archives: Hospital

For someone who’s supposed to be taking things easy, it’s been hard work getting up at 7.30am every morning and commuting to Harefield for bloods and a quick how-do-you-do with the docs.  That said, it’s a good deal better than being stuck in there right now – no matter how much fun the nurses claim they all have on Christmas day.

The last couple of days have been great fun, mixed with a little bit of hardship here and there.  On Sunday I went for another walk, this time with the whole family in tow, but the freezing fog which had descended on the lake pushed my new blowers a little too hard and left me in quite a bit of pain, until I managed to warm my muscles back up in a nice hot bath later on – thanks to my wonderful bro for identifying the problem.

Although it was hard work and it hurt afterwards, it is still so rewarding to be able to wrap up warm and go out for a walk in the kind of conditions which would have had me refusing to open a window a month ago, let alone set foot outside.

I’m still requiring quite a bit of rest – sleep at night isn’t coming terribly easily as my chest is still pretty sore, which means that daytime naps are a must if I’m to be in any shape to do anything other than sit on a sofa trying desperately to not let myself fall asleep.

Today I was – I think – officially discharged from Harefield.  Although I’d been sent home and ordered back everyday for bloods, they were still holding a bed for me should my infection markers decide they wanted to play silly b***ers and start jumping all over the place again.  After seeing the fabulous Dr Carby and his wonderful team today (big shout out to Verhana and Ari) they are happy that they don’t need my bed any more and are going to give it to someone more in need – yippee!

I am still having a few issues with my immunosuppressant levels.  The drug I’m on – Tacrolimus (or Tac, as it’s known in our house) – seems to be working well for me, but since they put me on the oral antibiotic to fight the infection that was starting to brew the levels have been all over the place.  Apparently it’s not very common, but I do always like to stand out, as we all know perfectly well by now.  The upshot of that is that while they’re happy for me to have a day off for Christmas Day, I’ll need to go back Boxing Day morning for more bloods and probably at the same time in the morning for the rest of the week.  As has been said before, though, it’s a whole lot better than being in there!

As I sit and write this, preparing for bed on Christmas Eve there seems so much to reflect on: the past couple of Christmases which I’ve questioned as to whether they’d be my last; the joy being felt by not just my family but all my extended family and friends and loved ones at the gift I’ve been given; the pain that must be being felt by the family of my donor, for whom this Christmas will undoubtedly be one of their hardest ever.

Christmas, lest we forget, is all about the birth of Jesus and it seems fitting that I’m nestled in the warmth of my family to celebrate my emergeance into new life thanks to the generosity of one single person and their family.  Whatever you may believe, whoever you may pray to, this is the closest thing to a miracle I’ve ever witnessed.

May you all have a wonderful, happy, safe, warm and loving Christmas – and as you sit down to enjoy the best parts of the day, take a moment to spare a thought for those less fortunate than yourselves.

Merry Christmas, one and all.

First off, I should quickly clear something up: when I say I’m “home” what I actually mean is I’m back at Mum and Dad’s (the ‘rents).  While this is, in a very real way, “home”, it’s not – technically – “home” as in sleeping in my own bed on my own pillows and waking to my own view.  Luckily for me, I am still managing to wake with the wonderful view of my darling K beside me, something which I’ve had to struggle without for the last 4-and-half-weeks.

Today has been the most wonderful day – surprisingly mundane, but it’s surprising how mundane takes on a whole new meaning when you’re kicking around at home with new lungs.

I was completely thrown this morning when I had to get up to go in to Harefield.  I’m so used to working out what time I’m leaving then working backwards through nebulisers, physio, breakfast, meds and extra time to get dressed, washed etc.  Last night I sat with my alarm before me and realised I had no idea how long it would take me to get up and out in the morning.  Wash… Dress… Breakfast… Tablets… Leave.  That’s, what, 45 mins max?  I’ve NEVER been up and out of the house in 45 minutes.  It’s usually at least an hour-and-a-half.  Mark that down as one more surreal post-transplant experience.

We rocked up on E Ward for 9.30, saying a cheery good morning to a couple of my favourite nurses, and promptly had my bloods done.  It was a bit of a wait to see the docs, who were on their rounds when I turned up and we had to wait for them to get to us, but when they did they were happy enough that I not only looked, but still felt well.  They sent me toddling off home again, to return tomorrow, and we were back home again by 12.30pm after a torrid journey back up the M1 (bad choice Dad…).

No sooner had we got back than my Bro rocked up to start his Christmas break from Plymouth and it was bacon sarnies all round to celebrate.  It was so unbelievably normal it was almost weird.  Get your head around that one!

As bro popped off to collect his sporting buddies for their weekend’s festivities (of which I plan to be a part next year), I decided it was about time I tried my new lungs and strengthening legs out and took myself off for a walk around the block.  The ‘rents couldn’t help but join me as I positively marched myself round the block, doing a circuit round behind the house in about 5 minutes, something which took me at least 10-15 last time I did it, and that was nearly a year ago, since when I’d not even have contemplated it.

By the time we got back, including having a quick welcome home chat with the neighbours, K had arrived back with Cliff and Dazz, our very good friends, who stayed for a chat and a cuppa.  Eventually, we managed to pack them both off, Dazz needing not only to pack for his holiday, but also to finish his shopping for skiing gear, visit relatives and catch some serious Zzz’s before his long drive North – all in the space of 3-4 hours.  Not the most organised of our friends is our Dazz.

When they’d gone, I heeded my doc’s advice not to do too much and took myself off to bed for a while, waking after an hour or so feeling slightly cloudy headed, which told me, like it always does, that I’d slept well and – honestly – would feel a whole lot better once I’d woken up.

Sat and chatted to Mum in the kitchen while we prepared a fruit basket for the ward staff to take in tomorrow – fruit being the antidote to all the cake and chocolate they get given at Christmas time: I don’t want to be responsible for staff going off sick with massively high cholesterol.

Plonking myself in the lounge with Mum’s flashy new lap-top, I then settled in to spend an afternoon going through my Hotmail account and cleaning it up and reading through the 3 pages of messages left for me on my Facebook page.  Crazy.  I can’t believe the amount of love and support I’ve had over the last month – it’s left me as close to speechless as I ever get.  You know, like, 50 words a minute rather than 100.

After dinner S&S came over for a game of Hollywood Buzz (thanks Suze and Gary!), which I cruised, naturally.  We were going to be joined by another friend from Luton, but sadly as I directed him to the house we established he had a cough and I had to turn him away, which felt horrible, but it’s really, really important for me to quarantine myself at the moment.

So instead K and I settled on the sofa to watch the final of Strictly Come Dancing, which entertains me more than it should do and I find myself ooh’ing and aah’ing at the lifts, holds and twirls like someone who actually knows what they’re watching.

It’s been the most wonderfully straight-forward, mundane day and I hope there’s many more to come in the next week or so.  Thanks again for all your support and love you’ve sent, through the blog, Facebook, email and cards.  It means the world to me, and it is still helping me through the tough parts of everyday.  And don’t get me wrong – there are still the tough parts to get through.  But each day I get stronger and each day the tough parts get a little easier.  Sooner or later, the tough parts will be so brief I’ll hardly notice them, and the good times will start to roll with a vengeance.

Crikey – that was all a bit of a roller-coaster, wasn’t it?  I’m starting to feel like I slightly over-use that metaphor, but it I’ve now discovered it’s very definition.

Still, finding myself sat back in the bathroom where I was relaxing when my mother burst into the room, towel in hand to pluck me from the bath and whisk me off to Harefield not a month and a day ago brings a certain surreality to the whole thing.  Not so much closure as openage: the start of a new life from the page I left the old one.

As Kati said in her last entry, I’ll be finding myself running to and fro to Harefield every morning for the next week or so for bloods and a doctor’s consultation, but it’s a small price to pay for being out of hospital and home for Christmas – not to mention, as Anna pointed out in the previous comments section, sleeping in a bed with a duvet!

It’s been a crazy last 4-and-a-half weeks, and I’m not out of the woods yet, or fully recovered by any means, but I’m home, I’m happy and I’ve got my family and loved ones around me and that’s all a guy can ask for.

I can’t begin to thank each and every one of you for the support you’ve given me through this whole wonderful, trying, exceptional, terrifying, beautiful ordeal.  Words cannot express the strength and resolve you have all given me with your prayers, thoughts and words of wisdom and cheer.  You have all played just as big a role in my recovery as any medical science has.

I fully intend to make the very most of my new life.  I want to be able to say that if my donor’s family knew who I was and what I had done with my new life, they would be proud of me and comforted to know that the death of their loved one wasn’t wasted, but helped to save and transform a life which meant something.

To my donor: I can never thank you face-to-face, but if you’re there and you’re watching, be confident that you have given the greatest gift anyone can give and that I will not waste a second of the second life you’ve given me.  God bless you and keep you in eternal life.

Oli has now stayed in 4 rooms within the transplant ward.  He has been in a high dependancy room, a not-so-quite- high dependancy room, a goodbye-you’re-going-home room, and as of half past 8 this evening an unlucky-you-might-be-here-until-Christmas room.

The past two days haven’t been quite so bad for him.  Yesterday I went to see him along with two really good friends of ours and we merrily chatted for hours and helped Oli almost forget that the day sucked because he wasn’t well.

Today he was definitely starting to struggle with the idea that the goal of going home is getting harder to reach.  One of the highlights of his day was being interviewed by a lovely lady from the Daily Mirror – the article will be in tomorrows (Friday 21st Dec.) paper.  I repeat in case you weren’t paying attention – BUY THE DAILY MIRROR TOMORROW BECAUSE OLI WILL BE IN IT.  I think that’s clear now, don’t you?

This afternoon became a bit of a battle against nausea and tiredness.  He’s had a rough couple of days, along with the physical presence of the latest infection, he has also had to use a lot of mental and emotional energy in trying to keep positive and not get too upset about staying in hospital. 

Unfortunately, no matter how many members of staff say that Christmas on the ward is fun, being part of Christmas on the ward is a big reminder that you’re not remotely well enough to go home.  Fingers crossed however, the decision to keep him in hasn’t been made yet and we still have a few days to get the infection under control and get Oli home.  It’s difficult to get into the Christmas spirit though.

As we left this evening Oli’s mood had changed again to being resigned to his fate, come what may.  Hopefully he’ll get visited by three ghosts this evening who will each help him find the fight to carry on.  I know it’s tough, I’ve been there, different situation but I’ve been in hospital over Christmas.  The big difference for Oli is that he still has a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel which will lead him home for Christmas dinner.

Plus he’s already received the greatest gift possible so Christmas is already better than it was going to be.

Don’t forget to buy the Mirror tomorrow – you’ll get your first glimpse of Oli post-transplant!

Oli won’t be home this week, or in time for Christmas quite probably.

He woke up today feeling rubbish and with a temperature, gutted doesn’t even come close to how he’s feeling right now.  His doc saw him and was also gutted for Oli, especially as the doc said he had plans to send Oli home today – Oli didn’t really want to hear that.

Right now we’re waiting for blood tests and x-rays to come back before they decide on a plan of Oli.  In the meantime we have a very sad and poorly Oli.

I can’t think of a single thing to say or do to make him feel better at the moment, I’m just going to go to hospital and give him a big hug.

Oli’s coming home on Thursday!!!!!  small print – as long as nothing bad happens in between now and then.

Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!  I’m so excited, it’s going to be so wonderful to have him home and be able to chill out on our sofa and watch movies and drink tea!

Yesterday we had another great day together, my parents took me over to see him and the four of us went for a cup of tea in the League of Friends pavillion.  It was lovely and so normal just to be sitting and chatting together.  My parents then left and I stayed behind with Oli for the rest of the day.  Oli’s parents visited and then two of our bestest buddies came to see him and to take me home in the evening.  Throughout the day I just kept looking at Oli and seeing how happy he looked and how healthy.  We went to the canteen with the guys in the evening and it was almost normal to be sitting, having a giggle and a cuppa (only almost normal because a hospital canteen is never quite venue of choice to go with friends).

For the past few days Oli has had to put up with hearing nurses and doctors commenting on how he should be ready to go home soon, today they’ve finally agreed that Thursday is the day, hooray!

I can’t wait to have him home, it’ll be great to have him here as our nieces and nephews get excited as Christmas draws nearer.  We can share in the excitement for the first time in ages and Oli doesn’t have to worry so much about measuring his energy reserves or being scared that it might be his last.

I got a letter from UCL today, unfortunately I didn’t get in.  I’m a bit gutted but in the grand scheme of things we already have so much to be thankful for, I’m not going to waste time or energy feeling sorry for myself.  Nothing can ruin how happy I am that Oli is coming home x

Oli has done so well again today.  He really blew me away when I went with him on another physio session on the stairs.  I was walking behind him and the physio as we went all the way up in one go and all the way down in one go, I was trying very hard not to get in the way and just observe so it wasn’t until the end that I asked him if he realised what he’s just done.  Not only had he gone up and down the stairs a lot more easily than he had yesterday, he’d also been chatting the entire time – he hadn’t even noticed!  It’s things like this that make me stop and realise just how much his life has changed already.  I would never have dared to speak to him while he was slowly going up or down stairs, one step at a time, as I knew he wouldn’t have had the breath to talk back.  Today he was chatting away and didn’t seem out of breath at all.  Wow.

This has led me on to a strange pattern of thinking today as we are entering the realms of activities that Oli either hasn’t done for a long time or has never done.  When we got there this morning Oli was a bit down.  He said he didn’t know why but he felt ‘off’ and was a little worried about it, even though all of his levels had been checked and had come back perfectly fine.  It was then that I had to remind him of all the activity he did yesterday, activity he hasn’t done for at least months, if not more.  His body, apart from recovering from a huge operation, simply isn’t used to this level of activity.

I don’t know but I don’t think Oli has ever had a stitch from running, or had achy legs or sore feet.  It has crossed my mind that when Oli experiences these for the first time, particularly the running stitch, he could possible think something major is wrong and start to panic.

We have all spent so much time thinking about the great things Oli can do with his life now, we had overlooked the little, more unpleasant things he will inevitably discover.  I’ve also been thinking that Oli hasn’t had a 35/40 hour week, ever.  He’s going to find out that it’s tiring and not always that much fun.

This post is not meant to sound negative in any way, it’s just that for the first time tonight I’ve realised how little experience Oli has of the regular world.  He’s going to go on and do great things and experience things he never thought he would.  Along the way however, he’s going to go through some very hard times.  He will come out the other side and the triumphs will be that much sweeter because of it.

We have a long way to go and this year will be very hard but also very rewarding.  I think that the relationships he has with close friends and family will need to be very strong to come out the other side but if they survive, they will be that much stronger for having come through it.

That’s all got a bit deeper than I meant it too, oops!

Oli has also been moved to a different room now, he is no longer highly dependant and so is one step closer to home (hopefully!).  Oli’s Mum, Dad, Oli and I are all looking forward to a wonderful celebratory lunch tomorrow, I have to admit I am so excited, I might burst!  If you have a drink tomorrow, or even a cup of tea, celebrate with us and raise your glass to Oli as it is his first trip out since the transplant.  He is one awesome guy.

Oli’s walked up and down a flight of stairs!!!!  I’m not with him today and have no-one around to jump up and down with and scream in a happy girly way!  I am so proud of him!

He’s just called me and he walked to the foot of the stairs with the physio which is plenty far enough.  He did the first five steps and went to try the next eight.  He did the eight and figured he’d got that far and so should go for the final 5.  After a little break he walked all the way down, then back to his room AND then back to the bathrooms for a shower.  This is just fab, he has done so well today.  He said it was a lot harder than he thought it would be but is really proud of himself for achieving it.  I’m a just a big bubble of happiness right now and I’m so glad I can share it with you all! 

There is absolutely no way he could have done all of that three weeks ago, he is already leaps and bounds ahead of the poorly guy who was half looking forward to/half dreading the approaching Christmas.  No matter what happens or where we are, Christmas is going to be such a celebration of new life.

Have a great day x

Speechless is completely how I feel at the moment.  You are all the most amazing bunch of people and the messages you’ve sent Oli have been so wonderful and heart-warming.  These messages are so important for encouraging him and letting him know just how many people are sending love and prayers his way.

Today has been another fantastic day.  Oli has been introduced to the Little Blue Book (he’s assured me the little black book was thrown away a long time ago).  The LBB holds all the dosage detail of his medications which allows him to be in charge of what he is due and when.  This is a very important step for him as it is part of a checklist of things that he needs to be able to do before he is allowed home.  As a CF patient, Oli has been used to self-medicating for years, however, this is a whole new area for him.  Oli has to learn about the drugs he takes and needs to remember to take them at the right times and in the right dosages.  It won’t take him long as he is used to taking regular medication but the list of drugs is HUGE so he’ll need to be a memory man for a while until it becomes second nature.

Another awesome step forward came within the Doctor’s orders, Oli has been told to go out for a pub lunch on Saturday! Even as I write I am grinning stupidly from ear to ear!  It’s so odd to think how quick these things are moving.  It has been three weeks since the transplant and in so many ways it feels like longer as we’ve been through massive highs and despairing lows.  It’s so amazing to think that this gift has changed our lives so quickly and so wonderfully.  Oli is doing so well and is making great progress, almost hourly it seems!  If you haven’t already done so, please consider signing on to the organ donor register at www.uktransplant.org.uk.  If you have signed up, please talk to at least one person tomorrow about Oli’s miracle, Emily’s miracle (www.pinkandsmiley.blogspot.com), Peter’s miracle (http://waitingforthecall.blogspot.com) , James’ miracle (www.ox28.com) and the other miracles that are waiting to happen.  Encourage them to think about signing up, too.

You are amazing, hope you’re enjoying the ride as much as we are x

This post has been a bit slow in coming, am really sorry. Thankfully though, it’s not for bad reasons as Oli is doing really well.

 Oli is now completely wireless, the vas-cath and catheter have now been removed.  This has caused much excitement as today Oli was able to put clothes on and feel more ‘normal’ (there are so many jokes about Oli + normal, you’ll have to think them for yourselves as there isn’t space for me to put them in).

Oli has also had almost all of his pills and potions stopped by his consultantas he wants to see how Oli manages without them.  This makes a big difference to his system as he did have a pharmacy’s worth of various medicines rolling around his insides, much to his kidneys dissatisfaction.

The days have been going brilliantly for Oli but the nights are still difficult.  He is getting increasingly homesick and from 6pm starts to get himself wound up about us leaving him and not wanting to be alone.  It’s completely understandable but it’s also something we really need to try and find a solution to as we don’t know how long it will be before he is home and we don’t want it to remain a problem.  It has crossed my mind that you guys could really help at this point.  Every comment that gets written and posted gets sent through to his phone so that even though he doesn’t read my posts, he sees your comments.  If you think of Oli at some point in the evening after 8pm, please leave a comment telling him just that and then he may not feel so alone.  I don’t know if it will work but it’s worth a try if it will help him feel less lonely.

There’s not really any more news as things are progressing steadily and with a definite upwards curve.  As a very marvellous man said to him yesterday “This isn’t the face of a worried consultant”. Yay!