Well gunky microscopy came back negative at the end of last week but gunky culture came back positive this morning. It's positive for a certain kind of anaerobic bacteria which 90% of the time is simply an infection of the bloodstream. Ten percent of the time it can be indicative of something that might need more treatment.
So the Mad Professor has changed my antibiotics and wants to run a host of blood tests at the end of the week, just to make sure that my liver isn't playing silly buggers and then it's just a matter of waiting for the appointment with the surgeon to come through.
I'm not really that worried about anything sinister going on, but I will admit to being a little bit fed up with it all.
Showing posts with label gunk. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gunk. Show all posts
Monday, 11 January 2010
Sunday, 10 January 2010
ripping off the plaster
I'm generally a "rip the plaster off quickly" type of gal but that doesn't work so well when said plaster is actually a wound dressing the size of one's hand, stuck to the underside of one's boob. In order to change the dressing I have to hold up my breast with one hand (hey, I'm 41 and losing elasticity), unstick the dressing with the other hand and hold down the skin it's being ripped from with a third hand. So straight away you see the problem?
On the first morning I asked Significant Other for help. He very nearly touched the pad under the dressing, ran swearing to the bathroom where he washed his hands under scalding hot water for five minutes and then applied about half a little plastic bottle of antiseptic gel because "we don't know what you've got and I might have got some on me". Charming though this display of concern for my wellbeing was, I felt it best to carry on unaided... I now have the process down to a fine art where I dispense with holding down the skin and simply rip - but I have added swearing long and loud and this seems to help.
Microscopy came back negative (yay), but it means that we don't know what the whole lump thing is all about (meh) so the Mad Professor has decided better out than in and has referred me to a surgeon (eek).
And the UK is still under a blanket of snow. Isn't this an amazing picture?
On the first morning I asked Significant Other for help. He very nearly touched the pad under the dressing, ran swearing to the bathroom where he washed his hands under scalding hot water for five minutes and then applied about half a little plastic bottle of antiseptic gel because "we don't know what you've got and I might have got some on me". Charming though this display of concern for my wellbeing was, I felt it best to carry on unaided... I now have the process down to a fine art where I dispense with holding down the skin and simply rip - but I have added swearing long and loud and this seems to help.
Microscopy came back negative (yay), but it means that we don't know what the whole lump thing is all about (meh) so the Mad Professor has decided better out than in and has referred me to a surgeon (eek).
And the UK is still under a blanket of snow. Isn't this an amazing picture?
Wednesday, 6 January 2010
ouch, ouch, ouch
FNA this afternoon and despite the gentle touch of the Mad Professor - IT HURTS!
You know that you were right to seek a medical opinion when said medical opinion mutters "oh my" at the re-vol-ting stuff that comes out of the lump in your right boob. The Mad Professor kindly offered to show me the syringe afterwards and, accustomed though I am to yucky fluids in my day-to-day working life, it's different when looking at something that has just been syphoned from your own body.
Anyway, I was patched up and sent out into the snow and a vial of vile has been sent to the lab for analysis. Now all I have to do is change the dressing each morning, not throw up the antibiotics and try to remember that I can't stretch my right arm out before I stretch my right arm out...
And in the meanwhile - this is the view from the kitchen window.
You know that you were right to seek a medical opinion when said medical opinion mutters "oh my" at the re-vol-ting stuff that comes out of the lump in your right boob. The Mad Professor kindly offered to show me the syringe afterwards and, accustomed though I am to yucky fluids in my day-to-day working life, it's different when looking at something that has just been syphoned from your own body.
Anyway, I was patched up and sent out into the snow and a vial of vile has been sent to the lab for analysis. Now all I have to do is change the dressing each morning, not throw up the antibiotics and try to remember that I can't stretch my right arm out before I stretch my right arm out...
And in the meanwhile - this is the view from the kitchen window.
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