Sure, they sound glamorous……. exotic…..the stuff of dreams, but don’t believe everything you read.
Blood clots are really not fun.
I have been sideswiped, yet again, with a DVT. In a slightly hoarding way this is now my third and whilst I love to play thrombosis bingo the game is now quite boring.
However I’m not posting because I want to complain. Actually this is probably the easiest of the DVTs as this time I can (a) hobble, albeit like a pirate and (b) don’t have a newborn. This, weirdly feels like a win.
There’s been a few undignified moments, sure – I’ve lost count of the number of random people who’ve prodded, poked, measured, injected, scanned or otherwise looked quizzically at me. I hope some were even medical professionals otherwise that’s a whole other website right there. There’s been times I’ve had to argue the personal and comparative merits of different brands of surgical stockings. And a rather memorable occasion comforting a terrified student midwife who thought my blood thinning bruising was from domestic abuse. Some will know my ‘clinical path’ hasn’t been the most straightforward (*ahem*) but I continue to limp another day.
This post is because I mostly want to say this:
Thankyou to you amazing NHS people who do a damn hard and thankless task of looking after random poorly people like me. I have no idea how you put up with the constant and relentless pace of patient care, moving targets and budget cuts (*doffs imaginary cap*)
I’m off for an evening of sofa-flaking and anticoagulation. Don’t be too jealous. We can’t all have rock and roll lives.
Ahoy me hearties. Aaaaaar.