More tea?

Six months is a long time to wait for .... well most things really, particularly pain relief.  Nevertheless, it is almost six months since I went into anaphylactic shock after a combined dose of ibuprofen and paracetamol.  My blood pressure dropped so low that day that any doctor to whom I recite the figures rewards my story with a satisfying gasp of horror.  There were other symptoms too:  a blotchy, itchy rash, hot ears, rasping throat, loss of voice, swelling, more itching, uncontrollable itching ....  So I stopped taking both drugs.  That was fine until I developed a toothache.  "Pass me the paracetamol.  No, actually, don't."  And then backache.  "Try ibuprofen, it's an anti-inflamatory."  Not in my case.

The letter from the hospital about today's appointment made it sound like it was going to be a pleasant experience.  It told me to bring a book and that I might have to wait around for several hours whilst a controlled test of the least likely drug to affect me (paracetamol) was administered.  Once I knew what I was allergic to I could re-establish a safe form of pain relief should I need it.

With novel in hand I set off for the hospital.  All set, but I forgot to have a cup of tea before I left home.

Terrible traffic. According to the hospital information, the allergy testing clinic was located in The Department of Infection and Tropical Diseases (like, why there?)  at the bum end of the hospital next to the Department of Sexual Health, or the Clap Clinic if you're in the trade. I clocked the location of the the tea counter at the hospital entrance but didn't dare stop for fear of being late.   I hurried towards Infection and Tropical Diseases, gave the CC a wide berth and hoped that I wouldn't pick up anything nasty en route.  Here there was no sign of a tea trolley.


"Would it be at all possible to have a cup of tea?"  I asked my specialist nurse an hour later.  "Not until we've finished the procedure, I'm afraid."  How long would that be?  Four hours.  Four hours without a cup of tea?!  "How do you cope?" I ventured.  My specialist nurse said that for two years she'd worked in A and E  and felt lucky to get much more than a sip of water in a 12 hour shift.  I tried to look as if I wasn't that bothered.

  Tiny droplets of paracetamol were being pin pricked into my skin, then syringed into my mouth with much waiting, taking of blood pressure, heart rate and lung capacity tests in between.  If nothing happened I wasn't allergic.  If it did, I was.  After about an hour and a half I started to itch, but thought that it was merely the power of suggestion, a caffeine dip more likely,  and paid no heed.  Two hours later, my fingers were drumming on the table.  This procedure was taking its time, clearly nothing was going to happen and my thirst for a cup of tea had not abated. And then my eyes began to feel prickly.  "It'll be nothing."  I thought.  Then my ears started to get hot ... but the nurse had just shut the window so that was probably why.  "Hang on."  I thought.   "My ears don't usually go hot every time someone shuts the window .. and now my eyes are itching even more .. and now my arms and legs, and I feel really woozy all of a sudden. I'm really sorry." I said "I think something's happening."

What is it about medical symptoms that makes us apologise?  This was the sole purpose of the visit.  My specialist nurse looked sceptical and wanted further proof.  We looked at my legs.  Red, blotchy patches were developing but the nurse was still doubtful.  The itching and generally unwell feeling continued.   Then a registrar joined us.  She looked interested.  Then, finally, the consultant came in and announced that the procedure would be halted and that we had proved that I was indeed allergic to paracetamol.  Great!  Now, finally, I might get some tea.  Gasping wasn't the word.

As I said goodbye to the nurse I quipped that of course I had made the whole thing up just to get away to the cafe.  She smiled.  "I've never really known anyone do that.  But then, it's not often that I find myself in the hands of a professional."

Me neither.

And I really don't know if that was a compliment or not, and red blotches are hard to fake.   But since I now have a mug of the finest English Breakfast in my hand, I'm not that bothered.

BLOG AWARDS 2nd attempt

Welcome to my fourth follower!  Apparently the voting widget doesn't work.  Try pasting this link into your browser  link instead:
http://www.goodreads.com/book_blogger_award?category=Adult+Nonfiction

Thank you so much!

Ginny

Blog Awards

To all my members .... yes all three of us .... please use this to vote for me as blogger of the year in the Blog Awards:


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