Posted tagged ‘the prodigy’

Chopped Liver – Back My Stitch Up

February 21, 2011

Since I last spoke to you I have had an horrendous sleepless night. Not thru anything related to me and my continued progress but due entirely to the calamitous noise and lack of control of bodily functions of the confused and sickly old man next to me.

Those noises continue as I write this and I am hoping for a move.

On a more positive note I have just had half of my 33 stiches removed – that will be 16 and a half by my ready reckoner.

The plan is now to concentrate on getting my artificial weight (excess fluid) down by between 1 – 2 kilos a day and then getting my natural body weight back to normal with proteins and all that gubbins.

If all goes well I will be going home on Friday.

Maybe just for the weekend. Maybe that’s it. We’ll see.

Then a period of 2 – 3 months slow recovery – anyway getting ahead of myself somewhat.

By the way thanks to bridge peeps and BNI peeps for cards and wishes – and a big up to the British Liver Trust.


Chopped Liver – Pack My Kit Up

November 18, 2010

No no… not yet – I’m just being flippant – and wondering how I get something vaguely relevant out of that Prodigy song tune track.

But y’know, as my big day approacheth, people are saying to me that I should have my bag packed already – like as if when the call comes I’ll be in a mad panic, rushing hither and tither and no time to start thinking about bag-packing.

But let me ask you this. What does one pack for a liver transplant?

Shades? Swimwear? High-factor sun block? A good book? Warm weather clothing? Cold weather clothing? iPhone (natch!).

Ok, who's next? Got another liver ready to go...

In short, if all goes to plan, I am going to be taken straight into a waiting area, prior to theatre followed by a number of days in Intensive Care before I make my way slowly and steadily back to the normality of a ward.

So, for those first few days, what really do I need? What is there to pack that’s so urgent?

I dunno.

Now there… are 3…. steps to… carry a donor card – ooh, wap wap!
Just follow steps 1, 2 and 3.

Chopped Liver – Psycho-somatic addict insane

March 27, 2010

Well, how many songs do you know with “Psychosomatic” in the title? (Oh, and for the smart-arses I know it’s not the title – but listen – there’s hardly anybody reading this who even has a clue what we’re on about).

But this is what I want to talk about today. Y’see 2 months ago, I was my usual self. “Usual” for me was tired, sporadic bouts of nausea and jaundice – but not really enough to prevent me going about my business – after a fashion.

Then, during a routine liver appointment (where my usual consultant was away and was replaced by … someone else) it was suggested that I was due an MRI. Oh yawn, I thought, it’s going to show all the usual stuff, inflamed gallbladder , hundreds and thousands of gallstones, varicies in the oesophagus and stomach yada yada.

But no, this time it showed more sinister goings on – i.e. the blocked portal vein – leading to the decision to transplant.

Now, since that decision was made and I was released from captivity back into the jungle, I have felt pretty bad. Can’t get through the day without feeling pyeeahhh! Don’t feel like working. Don’t feel like playing. Like today, I was with Weedy, playing some board game – and it just descended on me – I could practically see it, like a cloud (big grey one) and I couldn’t speak, couldn’t keep my eyes open – absolutely no energy – just drained away – had to go and lie down.

Later on, we went across the road to our friends on the “upper side” and gradually I came back to life again -started bantering again, telling a few jokes. But what caused all this? Blood Sugar Levels? Liver failing due to lack of blood/oxygen? Lack of nutrients?

Whatever it is (and I will have to look into it and experiment with dietary habits etc) why was I not so affected prior to being told I needed a liver transplant? Is it, perish the thought, merely psychosomatic?

Nobody admits to their physical symptoms being psychosomatic. It’s a sign of … I dunno, weakness, perhaps. Something not real, perhaps. Almost like, Aw, shake yurself, get a grip, just ignore it and it’ll go away. I would (I have done!) probably say it myself to others so why should it not apply to me?

I don’t know the answer. I just thought I’d throw it in the air – and see how it lands.