Friday 28th October - key date in the mayan calander was spent at St Thomas's hospital in London. A follow up with the specialist to find out what my treatment plan was to be. Arriving early to a packed clinic, I was last on the list, last to be seen.
I was nervous but keen to learn what my treatment plan was - I just wanted to feel better and do the things I miss so much.
Firstly, the one good piece of news was that I do not have Lupus! A relief which lasted a short while and then official diagnosis of Relapsing Polychondritis and three blood clotting disorders (one of which I already knew about). The plan was to give me a variety of drugs to include methotraxate and pred together with things to help support my body, liver and kidneys in particular. Side effects were listed, many of which I had heard about but hadn't gone into in detail - I just wanted to hear that in a few weeks, I would feel so much better. However, to my dismay, what I got was there is no guarantee but it was hoped that it wouldnt get worse...my tears of disappointment began...with a sympathetic but supportive look from my love sat next to me.
The consultant then spotted my swollen leg which I had put down to my inactivity..he thought there was a possibility that I had got blood clots in my lungs! I said surely not..it's due to lack of exercise, I would know. But he insisted and ordered some emergency scans and tests and warned me that I wouldn't be allowed home if anything was found. As he brought in the senior nurse to take me away, I felt some very old patterns coming in, through my mind....my old phobia of needles, hospitals, blood etc kicked in, I began to cry, feel faint. However, I just knew that he was wrong, took a deep breath ignoring the fear and thoughts in my mind, and went with the nurse. Unfortunately, my veins failed, and it took several attempts for two nurses to take blood and insert a drip attachment. The whole while, my mind going into the old pattern, echoing voices and feeling the blackness come in.
This familiar feeling remained throughout the waiting for scans, tests and the feeling that I would pass out got stronger as tests were carried out. Shaking, hot then cold, muttering to myself - making myself laugh now typing this. You know I was amazed how strong that patterning is still in me, after all these years, same fears, thoughts and feeling in my body.
Anyway...I was right, there were no clots and I was given the all clear to leave.
Back to the original consultant to finalise the drug therapy plan. They had in the mean time got access to the previous scans undertaken weeks ago and a bit more good news is that the scans showed inflammation of my trachea but no signs of damage. This will have to be confirmed by a broncoscopy next week but hey I grabbed another piece of good news. We left the hospital around 6pm shattered.
Over the weekend, I've gone up and down with my feelings surrounding all this. I took my first Metho dosage on Saturday, doing energy work with them before welcoming them into my body. No side effects yet and it takes a few weeks to get into my system. I can't help sometimes though feeling let down and scared that I am taking a drug used for cancer patients, wishing that any of the other options I have explored over the years had worked.
I am endeavouring though to be positive and seeing this as something that I am to experience, allow. Each time I take a tablet, I go through a similar procedure, food to line stomach, energy work, quiet space and welcoming into my body something that is part of creation.
Any hints, thoughts or whatever come to any of you that I might be able to use to support my body through this are welcomed.
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