Update update update!!!
I rarely bother with my LJ anymore... it seems to be a haven for Workcover updates and not much else. I'm still on Workcover, but things are a lot better now. I am taking a patient load of 2-3 light/independent patients each shift, and I am working 4 days a week. I am on to Rehab Consultant number 7 now, and he is fairly new at his job. I don't mind him, but having been in the system for over 3 years, I find his optimism and enthusiasm somewhat frustrating and overbearing. He is out to change the world in a system that does not allow for change. I told him to start reading my casenotes, and when he gets to the end then it will be about time for him to hand over the reins for the next in line. He thought I was being funny... but when you have had 7 people on your case in 39 months, you expect change in a short period of time. At least this guy is based at the RAH and not FMC, so it is a lot easier to contact him. He is also going to push my case for a supervised gym program and a pass for lap swimming at a heated indoor pool, because I just cannot progress any further with my hydrotherapy. I need weight work now, and I am hoping to see some dramatic improvement on top of the fact that I now have scapula control for the first time since I was injured, so my pain and muscle spasms are greatly reduced.
Michaela is now a teenager, and she is gearing up for graduation from Primary school. She will begin high school next year at an all-girl's Catholic school... MY former school. They have accepted Michaela with open arms, to the point that they waived the application/acceptance fee, and have told us that school fees will be "sorted out" if and when we can afford it. Moo is really looking forward to starting there next year... but she is looking forward to getting dolled up for graduation first. It has been a bit of a shite year for Michaela as far as her health goes. Not so much with her lungs and having colds, but more with her joints. A couple of days after her birthday she managed to roll her ankle as she was jumping on her trampoline. She ended up on crutches for a bad sprain. Well, thankfully I have connections at the Women's and Children's hospital, so she got seen almost straight away in the emergency department's nurse-led clinic, was fast tracked for x-rays, and had a referral put in as a matter of urgency for physiotherapy to strengthen her ankle. Upon our first visit to the student-led physio clinic, my fearws that she has inherited my shit genes were founded. All her joints are hypermobile, and her muscles have shortened and tightened as a result of trying to protect the joints. She can barely move her quads and hamstrings, and in subsequent visits, my little glances and small word-drops did not go unnoticed by the clinical facilitator, who agrees with me that Michaela's hands are seriously fucked and she needs them seen to ASAP. He has kept her in the system, finding excuses to keep her coming back for more physiotherapy and strengthening exercises and talk of hydrotherapy to try and get her joints working as normally as possible. All the while he told me to get a referral for an Ortho and Rheumatology Clinic appointment to confirm our belief that she has Reynaud phenomenon. The physio took one look at Michaela's thumbs during that discussion and went so far as to say that his belief is that she probably has Rheumatoid Arthritis. So now we have appointments booked for Rheumatology (October 31), Plastics (November 17) and Orthopaedics (February 2) to try and figure out a way to make her hands function normally enough to get her through her high school years and beyond. I find it hilarious that the Ortho clinic was the hardest to get into, considering my field of expertise. Moo is somewhat freaked out by the fast-moving nature of hanving hobbled in with an ankle injury and staggering out with a preliminary diagnosis of Reynauds and Rheumatoid Arthritis. She knows that my Aunty has Rheumatoid, and she is scared that she will end up really sick like her. I told Michaela that she shouldn't be freaked out by the words, because a) the diagnosis is not yet concrete, and b) she has the symptoms, and if the diagnosis is right, then at least we can finally put a name to her problem and treat it correctly instead of her just having "retarded thumbs" and "cold hands". She was a lot happier after that. She is still a kinny chicken... but is now really, really tall. She towers over Mum now, and she has started wearing ladie's pants for the length. Unfortunately it means they are still a bit big in the waist, but at least women's pants allow for hips and a waist, so if her pants slide down off her waist they usually catch on her hips. She is still hovering around the 38kg mark, but being about 5'4" she is developing a really nice figure. She doesn't look skinny... she has nice little hips and thighs, and little boobs (Turtle calls her "Tiny Tits", which I think she is grateful for given the family history of breast reductions) Time to get the shotgun out, I think...
Our bunny, Monty is almost 18 months old now. He has not been desexed, and we don't plan on having it done anytime soon, either. He has a lovely temperament, and he has none of the antisocial side-effects that boy bunnies have when they keep their goolies. He has been joined by 2 Eastern Long- Necked turtles as pampered pets in our house. The turtles are retarded, often swimming head-first into the rocks in the tank propelled by the flow of the filter. This seems to be a deliberate act on their behalf, as they can pull themselves away from the stream very easily, but often they will gather speed around the tank (almost a metre long) and then swim furiously with the flow. Either we have emo, self-harming turtles, or they are just retarded. After having watched them eat, I am pretty sure the retarded theory works well.
Kristian has been heading toward applying for a job... problem is, whenever he is ready to go and put in his application, something heinous crops up. The latest roadblock is my current illness that hit hard and fast a week ago today. I went to work last Monday afternoon and was looking after a patient with shite lungs. He was coughing up bag loads of sputum, and he had been febrile for a while. My lungs were a bit niggly that morning, but by the time I came home, I had already used my reliever puffer at work, and my lungs were burning. I woke up feeling quiite crappy on Tuesday, and by Tuesday night I had hit a temperature spike of 38.8 degrees. The only time I have had that high a temperature as an adult was when I had Swine Flu in 2009, and even then I didn't have chills and rigors... I was just really hot and felt like shit. I got stuck into some expectorant tablets for the crap I was now coughing up off my lungs, and used my reliever puffer more fequently. On Thursday I went to the doctor and was given antibiotics and told not to go back to work until at least Monday. Monday I felt like death and felt like I was breathing underwater. I could hear the bubbling in the top of my lungs as I breathed, and I was breathing in rapid, shallow bursts so I didn't cough too much. I told the doctor to give me a prescription for prednisolone, which she was more than happy to write up for me. I have been having 4 hourly nebs and paracetamol. My doctor treats me as a health care professional, which is nice because it puts us on an equal footing. She doesn't treat me like an idiot, and she listens to what I tell her in regards to my subjective and objective symptoms and how I feel they would be best treated. So far I have managed to have clear lungs with good air entry but bronchial inflammation and wheezing which is most likely bronchitis, but she swabbed me for whooping cough due to the nature of my cough. It is something that had been in the back of my mind, but we will see when the results come through later today. It is currently 5am, and I have been awake since 3am thanks to my starting dose of 50mg of prednisolone at 3pm yesterday. Never fails... once I start the prednisolone I can breathe easier, but I cannot sleep. This will be fun once I go back to work for the early shift on Saturday morning. I feel sorry for everyone who has to put up with my 'roid rage and mood swings, but it is better than not breathing, yeah? Hopefully...
Speaking of not breathing, my Great-Great Aunt Thelma is not doing so well. She had a fall recently and developed a chest infection. After a course of antibiotics, it looks like she has developed pneumonia, and she has rapidly declined in health. Dad received a call from Aunty Chris yesterday advising that Aunty Thel isn't doing so well, and that her birthday celebrations that we were supposed to be going to this coming Sunday have been called off. She has been in a nursing home for the past 3 and a half years with advanced dementia after living independently alone in Broken Hill all her life. This Friday is her 100th birthday. My Great-Aunty Chris has already received her letter of congratulations from the Prime Minister of Australia (some red-headed woman who sounds like she is from Elizabeth), and the letters from the Premier of South Australia (unfortunately one of Mike Rann's last acts as Premier) and The Queen (some old duck in a hat) are on their way. There has always been a joke in the family on Mum's side that we all want to get to 100, receive our letter from the Queen, say "up yours" and die. Unfortunately it looks like Aunty Thel may be the one to do it. Typical... she has always been a feisty old duck. Having said this, I don't think there is too much more fight left in her. The last time I saw her was at her 90th birthday, 10 years ago. Mum's side of the family never have family gatherings, and we joked that we wouldn't see each other until Aunty Thel's 100th. We really need to stop making jokes in this family, I think... they aren't that funny when they come true.
Mum and Dad are looking for a rental house in the suburbs. Mum got a job just out of the city, 3 days a week. Often Dad will driver her to work then come and hang out with us while he waits for Mum. It has been nice, because it has re-established my bonds with Mum and Dad. They were originally looking at somewhere south of the city, but they have started looking at places close to us lately. It would be nice having them close again (or at least within the city area, not 65km away!)
And that's about it, really... there's probably more, but I can't think given my current hypoxic brain issues. I will try to update this thing more regularly, but every time I say that I never do it... so we will see.
Michaela is now a teenager, and she is gearing up for graduation from Primary school. She will begin high school next year at an all-girl's Catholic school... MY former school. They have accepted Michaela with open arms, to the point that they waived the application/acceptance fee, and have told us that school fees will be "sorted out" if and when we can afford it. Moo is really looking forward to starting there next year... but she is looking forward to getting dolled up for graduation first. It has been a bit of a shite year for Michaela as far as her health goes. Not so much with her lungs and having colds, but more with her joints. A couple of days after her birthday she managed to roll her ankle as she was jumping on her trampoline. She ended up on crutches for a bad sprain. Well, thankfully I have connections at the Women's and Children's hospital, so she got seen almost straight away in the emergency department's nurse-led clinic, was fast tracked for x-rays, and had a referral put in as a matter of urgency for physiotherapy to strengthen her ankle. Upon our first visit to the student-led physio clinic, my fearws that she has inherited my shit genes were founded. All her joints are hypermobile, and her muscles have shortened and tightened as a result of trying to protect the joints. She can barely move her quads and hamstrings, and in subsequent visits, my little glances and small word-drops did not go unnoticed by the clinical facilitator, who agrees with me that Michaela's hands are seriously fucked and she needs them seen to ASAP. He has kept her in the system, finding excuses to keep her coming back for more physiotherapy and strengthening exercises and talk of hydrotherapy to try and get her joints working as normally as possible. All the while he told me to get a referral for an Ortho and Rheumatology Clinic appointment to confirm our belief that she has Reynaud phenomenon. The physio took one look at Michaela's thumbs during that discussion and went so far as to say that his belief is that she probably has Rheumatoid Arthritis. So now we have appointments booked for Rheumatology (October 31), Plastics (November 17) and Orthopaedics (February 2) to try and figure out a way to make her hands function normally enough to get her through her high school years and beyond. I find it hilarious that the Ortho clinic was the hardest to get into, considering my field of expertise. Moo is somewhat freaked out by the fast-moving nature of hanving hobbled in with an ankle injury and staggering out with a preliminary diagnosis of Reynauds and Rheumatoid Arthritis. She knows that my Aunty has Rheumatoid, and she is scared that she will end up really sick like her. I told Michaela that she shouldn't be freaked out by the words, because a) the diagnosis is not yet concrete, and b) she has the symptoms, and if the diagnosis is right, then at least we can finally put a name to her problem and treat it correctly instead of her just having "retarded thumbs" and "cold hands". She was a lot happier after that. She is still a kinny chicken... but is now really, really tall. She towers over Mum now, and she has started wearing ladie's pants for the length. Unfortunately it means they are still a bit big in the waist, but at least women's pants allow for hips and a waist, so if her pants slide down off her waist they usually catch on her hips. She is still hovering around the 38kg mark, but being about 5'4" she is developing a really nice figure. She doesn't look skinny... she has nice little hips and thighs, and little boobs (Turtle calls her "Tiny Tits", which I think she is grateful for given the family history of breast reductions) Time to get the shotgun out, I think...
Our bunny, Monty is almost 18 months old now. He has not been desexed, and we don't plan on having it done anytime soon, either. He has a lovely temperament, and he has none of the antisocial side-effects that boy bunnies have when they keep their goolies. He has been joined by 2 Eastern Long- Necked turtles as pampered pets in our house. The turtles are retarded, often swimming head-first into the rocks in the tank propelled by the flow of the filter. This seems to be a deliberate act on their behalf, as they can pull themselves away from the stream very easily, but often they will gather speed around the tank (almost a metre long) and then swim furiously with the flow. Either we have emo, self-harming turtles, or they are just retarded. After having watched them eat, I am pretty sure the retarded theory works well.
Kristian has been heading toward applying for a job... problem is, whenever he is ready to go and put in his application, something heinous crops up. The latest roadblock is my current illness that hit hard and fast a week ago today. I went to work last Monday afternoon and was looking after a patient with shite lungs. He was coughing up bag loads of sputum, and he had been febrile for a while. My lungs were a bit niggly that morning, but by the time I came home, I had already used my reliever puffer at work, and my lungs were burning. I woke up feeling quiite crappy on Tuesday, and by Tuesday night I had hit a temperature spike of 38.8 degrees. The only time I have had that high a temperature as an adult was when I had Swine Flu in 2009, and even then I didn't have chills and rigors... I was just really hot and felt like shit. I got stuck into some expectorant tablets for the crap I was now coughing up off my lungs, and used my reliever puffer more fequently. On Thursday I went to the doctor and was given antibiotics and told not to go back to work until at least Monday. Monday I felt like death and felt like I was breathing underwater. I could hear the bubbling in the top of my lungs as I breathed, and I was breathing in rapid, shallow bursts so I didn't cough too much. I told the doctor to give me a prescription for prednisolone, which she was more than happy to write up for me. I have been having 4 hourly nebs and paracetamol. My doctor treats me as a health care professional, which is nice because it puts us on an equal footing. She doesn't treat me like an idiot, and she listens to what I tell her in regards to my subjective and objective symptoms and how I feel they would be best treated. So far I have managed to have clear lungs with good air entry but bronchial inflammation and wheezing which is most likely bronchitis, but she swabbed me for whooping cough due to the nature of my cough. It is something that had been in the back of my mind, but we will see when the results come through later today. It is currently 5am, and I have been awake since 3am thanks to my starting dose of 50mg of prednisolone at 3pm yesterday. Never fails... once I start the prednisolone I can breathe easier, but I cannot sleep. This will be fun once I go back to work for the early shift on Saturday morning. I feel sorry for everyone who has to put up with my 'roid rage and mood swings, but it is better than not breathing, yeah? Hopefully...
Speaking of not breathing, my Great-Great Aunt Thelma is not doing so well. She had a fall recently and developed a chest infection. After a course of antibiotics, it looks like she has developed pneumonia, and she has rapidly declined in health. Dad received a call from Aunty Chris yesterday advising that Aunty Thel isn't doing so well, and that her birthday celebrations that we were supposed to be going to this coming Sunday have been called off. She has been in a nursing home for the past 3 and a half years with advanced dementia after living independently alone in Broken Hill all her life. This Friday is her 100th birthday. My Great-Aunty Chris has already received her letter of congratulations from the Prime Minister of Australia (some red-headed woman who sounds like she is from Elizabeth), and the letters from the Premier of South Australia (unfortunately one of Mike Rann's last acts as Premier) and The Queen (some old duck in a hat) are on their way. There has always been a joke in the family on Mum's side that we all want to get to 100, receive our letter from the Queen, say "up yours" and die. Unfortunately it looks like Aunty Thel may be the one to do it. Typical... she has always been a feisty old duck. Having said this, I don't think there is too much more fight left in her. The last time I saw her was at her 90th birthday, 10 years ago. Mum's side of the family never have family gatherings, and we joked that we wouldn't see each other until Aunty Thel's 100th. We really need to stop making jokes in this family, I think... they aren't that funny when they come true.
Mum and Dad are looking for a rental house in the suburbs. Mum got a job just out of the city, 3 days a week. Often Dad will driver her to work then come and hang out with us while he waits for Mum. It has been nice, because it has re-established my bonds with Mum and Dad. They were originally looking at somewhere south of the city, but they have started looking at places close to us lately. It would be nice having them close again (or at least within the city area, not 65km away!)
And that's about it, really... there's probably more, but I can't think given my current hypoxic brain issues. I will try to update this thing more regularly, but every time I say that I never do it... so we will see.