Just because I feel like rubbish....
So, as if I haven't moaned at everyone I've met today, here is the story of my lovely Monday:
Monday was, for those of you who don't know, my little sister's 6th birthday, I had, in my full capacity as big sister who had a free last, arranged to take her into town in order to buy her present, and generally have fun.
That, was the plan.
This, however, is the reality.
On Sunday I had a second (the first one happening on Friday) blindingly painful headache which left me completely unable to move for a couple of minutes. Which I could have coped with. However, unlike the one on Friday, it also left me feeling incredibly dizzy and with blurred vision. In true me style, I took a couple of paracetamol and went to bed. I wake up on Monday still barely able to take more than a few steps without feeling ill. Which means I get the day off. And sent to the doctor. This is where it begins to go downhill.
My doctor freaked. And hospitalised me. This was all well and good. I got through the whole A and E bit nice and quickly, which us good. It wasn't even 11 o'clock at this point. By about half eleven I've had my blood pressure/temperature/pulse taken. The doctor is however panicking slightly, as I have the symptoms, and a family history, of brain hemorrhaging. Not good. At this point he calls over his registrar, and they decide to send me for a brain scan. Nearly five hours later (having long missed picking up my sister from school), I finally get a CT scan. All well and good.
Scan comes back negative (they couldn't find a brain...). At which point the consultant is called in. Then they decide they are going to give me a lumbar puncture. Wahoo....
So, about an hour later, my doctor, a trainee doctor, and 2 flipping med students arrive. With a trolley. After having been given my four local anaesthetic injections in my back, they discover I still have full sensation. Not good. A further four are given to me. Then they begin talking about giving me a general. Which I'm not having. The anaesthetic begins to take effect, so they start the actual procedure. Which involves a needle, about the size of a narrow pen, being shoved between my 3rd and 4th vertebrae...until it goes through the membrane (cue random body spasm), and they can remove some spinal fluid for testing. Yay. They managed to stab me in the bone several times before they got the needle through. 20 minutes in all they were trying before they got it right.
Anyway, it's about 20 past 6 when they've finished. I've sent my, rather squeamish, father away, and he is to be returning with my sister. I have been told to lie completely flat for at least one hour. Nice. So, both my parents and my sister arrive. I wait for the hour to go. A nurse allows me to sit up a little. I am then told I need to stay where I am for at least four hours. Fortunately my doctor arrives shortly after this and explains that this is the usual procedure in order to avoid headaches. I am, apparently, special and, since I have now been lying still for 2 hours, may not only stand up, but can run to the toilet if I want to. Which I did. Much to the amusement of several nurses.
Anyway, I am given a prescription for Cocodamol, a stern warning not to over do anything, as, technically, I should have been kept in and made to stay in bed for 24 hours, and sent home.
ALMOST EXACTLY 11 HOURS AFTER I GOT THERE!!!!
I hate hospitals. And, rather unsurprisingly, my back really hurts. So does my head. But not so much now. The best bit? Every single test came back negative. There's absolutelly nothing wrong with me... Still, as my consultant put it, it's better I go through all that and the tests come back clear, than I die of a bleed to the brain in the night. Cheerful fellow he was.
Also, one, small, further point. About my doctor. He was 12. Seriously. He was much, much younger than me...it scared me a little...
Monday was, for those of you who don't know, my little sister's 6th birthday, I had, in my full capacity as big sister who had a free last, arranged to take her into town in order to buy her present, and generally have fun.
That, was the plan.
This, however, is the reality.
On Sunday I had a second (the first one happening on Friday) blindingly painful headache which left me completely unable to move for a couple of minutes. Which I could have coped with. However, unlike the one on Friday, it also left me feeling incredibly dizzy and with blurred vision. In true me style, I took a couple of paracetamol and went to bed. I wake up on Monday still barely able to take more than a few steps without feeling ill. Which means I get the day off. And sent to the doctor. This is where it begins to go downhill.
My doctor freaked. And hospitalised me. This was all well and good. I got through the whole A and E bit nice and quickly, which us good. It wasn't even 11 o'clock at this point. By about half eleven I've had my blood pressure/temperature/pulse taken. The doctor is however panicking slightly, as I have the symptoms, and a family history, of brain hemorrhaging. Not good. At this point he calls over his registrar, and they decide to send me for a brain scan. Nearly five hours later (having long missed picking up my sister from school), I finally get a CT scan. All well and good.
Scan comes back negative (they couldn't find a brain...). At which point the consultant is called in. Then they decide they are going to give me a lumbar puncture. Wahoo....
So, about an hour later, my doctor, a trainee doctor, and 2 flipping med students arrive. With a trolley. After having been given my four local anaesthetic injections in my back, they discover I still have full sensation. Not good. A further four are given to me. Then they begin talking about giving me a general. Which I'm not having. The anaesthetic begins to take effect, so they start the actual procedure. Which involves a needle, about the size of a narrow pen, being shoved between my 3rd and 4th vertebrae...until it goes through the membrane (cue random body spasm), and they can remove some spinal fluid for testing. Yay. They managed to stab me in the bone several times before they got the needle through. 20 minutes in all they were trying before they got it right.
Anyway, it's about 20 past 6 when they've finished. I've sent my, rather squeamish, father away, and he is to be returning with my sister. I have been told to lie completely flat for at least one hour. Nice. So, both my parents and my sister arrive. I wait for the hour to go. A nurse allows me to sit up a little. I am then told I need to stay where I am for at least four hours. Fortunately my doctor arrives shortly after this and explains that this is the usual procedure in order to avoid headaches. I am, apparently, special and, since I have now been lying still for 2 hours, may not only stand up, but can run to the toilet if I want to. Which I did. Much to the amusement of several nurses.
Anyway, I am given a prescription for Cocodamol, a stern warning not to over do anything, as, technically, I should have been kept in and made to stay in bed for 24 hours, and sent home.
ALMOST EXACTLY 11 HOURS AFTER I GOT THERE!!!!
I hate hospitals. And, rather unsurprisingly, my back really hurts. So does my head. But not so much now. The best bit? Every single test came back negative. There's absolutelly nothing wrong with me... Still, as my consultant put it, it's better I go through all that and the tests come back clear, than I die of a bleed to the brain in the night. Cheerful fellow he was.
Also, one, small, further point. About my doctor. He was 12. Seriously. He was much, much younger than me...it scared me a little...