Archives For zopiclone

The 13th of August. 

I love Zopiclone. I had some last night and for once it actually worked; it wasn’t hours before I fell asleep, and I stayed asleep all night long. Curiously, I remember one of my dreams, which I don’t normally when I have drugs – we smeared Grandma’s head in jelly to make her warm. 

So I slept in, which was delightful, and after breakfast, I wrote up a blog post. And now we know we saw the last race Usain Bolt won. Even if it was a heat. And Mommy is extra glad she’s got tickets to see Mo next weekend at the Alexander Stadium. 

This afternoon, I needed to get away from the horrors of life (if you don’t know what I’m talking about, you’re not paying enough attention), so I went upstairs, and I listened to James Acaster being interviewed by Richard Herring at Edinburgh which made me laugh so much, I can’t wait to see him again this autumn. Then I went to watch the final episode of Orphan Black with Betty, which made me do a small cry, but it was for happy reasons, not sad. 

I have felt much less terrible today. Less tired, less pain, less burping. All round improvement. 

The 14th of August. 

Normal sleep service has resumed, it seems. No drugs last night. Suddenly realised this morning that Becky and James’ wedding anniversary is tomorrow and we hadn’t got them cards. So, after Mommy had been to do the food shop that didn’t happen at the weekend, we went into Sutton to get some. While there, I bought some lip balms because mine is about to run out, and some nail varnish remover, then we got cards. 

Back home, we had lunch, then Becky and Jamie appeared with gifts to say thank you for feeding their cats while they’ve been away. Jamie should have been on his way back to Strasbourg, but he missed all his trains. He should be on his plane now, if everything this afternoon went to plan. We can but hope. 

Since then I have been crocheting a tiny teddy with the remaining pretty baby wool. I’ve actually finally had a good idea for what to give Pete and Sophie for their twins, and after talking to her this morning, I have a very up to date idea for when they’re likely to be born, so I don’t need to rush. 

The 11th of August. 

I have felt like total shit all day. It took me hours to go to sleep again, although at least I had no headache this time. 

This morning, I did a blog post, and I tidied up the blanket. Generally though, I have been curled up, trying to decide what to make for Pete and Sophie’s twins, and trying to ignore the fact that I am cold, tired and still full of wind. Indelicate I know, but it’s so frustrating how you can start burping after breakfast, eat multiple Rennies, yet still be massively uncomfortable come the evening.

I am considering taking Zopiclone tonight – maybe just one tablet, because I have to get up at stupid time tomorrow and I need to be properly conscious. I really hope I don’t feel quite so terrible in the morning, because I would like to enjoy the trip. 

The 12th of August. 

Phew. Pooped. Been up since five but it has been worth it. I have been a bit burpy and in some pain but I’m okay. 

So yes. The same way as last week, we bought breakfast and coffee at the station, and our journey down was largely uneventful, save for us having to move the man who was in our seats. Obviously the Euston people were nowhere to be seen when we arrived, so we got off on our own and sped down the road to St. Pancras. We almost missed our javelin train, but I got a seat, then a lot of evil looks from older women who had to stand. 

No messing about with the lifts in Westfield today; we went up in the car park and found Christine in the same place as a week ago. We made our way to our seats, but upon arrival, found the space full of fridges, so we had been reallocated. However, that was absolutely fine because we moved to seats halfway down the home straight which were way better!

First up we had the 110m hurdles in the decathlon, and in every single race at least one person fell over. Then we had some important races – the 4×100 and 4x400m relays, men and women. Our team got through to the finals of all, and we did lots of shouting and clapping, but what was most exciting was seeing Usain Bolt come out to do the heat, because he wasn’t expected to. Mommy absolutely lost her shit – I have never seen her more thrilled. It’s so funny, listening to the cheers follow the runners round the track. Less funny is when they tried to make us all sing Hey Jude, because nobody knew the words. Argh. 

We left after the 4×400, once we knew our guys were through as fastest losers. Since we’d had so much time spare last week, we went to Westfield for a leisurely lunch, and had pizza at Francis Manca. I would recommend, because their crust is soft, doughy and delicious. 

Needed some green juice and caffeine so went to Pret, then bade farewell to Christine and began the trek back across London. Euston team actually got us on the train in a timely fashion, and I listened to the new Kesha album all the way home. 

The 23rd of April.

Oh god I have never been so excited about the fact that it is Monday tomorrow. Maybe my four month long saga of the fat right arm will be over soon.

Somehow I managed to press the snooze button this morning without my knowledge, but I didn’t continue to sleep for too much longer. I think I was slightly less coughy, but I had Zopiclone so it’s hard to remember. Thankfully the rest of the day has not been necessary to remember anyway.

Shockingly, it’s been mostly tv. Sunday Brunch in the am, Netflix this afternoon. I had a break in the middle for my traditional Gardeners’ Question Time and a lie down/pretend nap, but that was pretty much my only non-screen-based activity. On Netflix, I watched the first two episodes of 13 Reasons Why. I think I’ll download the next several to watch while I’m having to lie flat in ambulatory care tomorrow.

The 24th of April.

So it is done. I am praying so hard that it has worked this time but honestly I’m expecting to be disappointed.

Mommy woke me up for toast at quarter to seven, and then I couldn’t go back to sleep. I managed to kill time until we had to leave by redoing some crochet that I’d done wrong, and we set off just after 10:30. Parking was a nightmare, but we drove round enough times to chance upon someone leaving. Before going to ambulatory care, we went up to 516 to give Jenny her bear. She was delighted and put him in her pocket. We couldn’t stay too long, so we had a brief chat, then we went back downstairs and she went to check patients’ blood sugars.

I checked in at the desk at ambulatory care, then had to wait until the afternoon patients were let in. While we twiddled our thumbs, we saw Vash, the mother of a girl I was treated with at BCH. Turned out she was in a cubicle in there with some mystery virus. She did not look well, poor thing.

I had a very nice nurse who liked my hair (actually nearly every person I met commented on it) and got admitted pretty quickly, then a nurse from angio came for me because I was the only one on their list this afternoon. When we got down there, I went through the theatre check list again, and Andrew came for a chat. He explained what he was going to do, and we talked a lot about gadolinium (the dye he has to use instead of the iodine-based contrast he normally would), because I have so much during these procedures, more than a patient who’s had a lot of MRIs, more than anyone he’s ever seen and there are no studies on how this much of it can affect a body so he has concerns about that. I am just tired, I want it fixed.

We went round to the suite we were going to use. I shuffled across onto the bed and there was a who, then Andrew went to scrub in and the nurses prepped me. Covered in iodine. Once everything was set up, Andrew ultrasounded the edge of my groin to find the vein, then one of the nurses came to distract me while he got stabby with the local anaesthetic. He tunnelled up as far as he could, then he put some local in my fat arm and drove a wire up the vein in there so the two nearly met, and he used them to measure the blood pressures in those vessels, and he did a run of contrast so he could see if any strictures were there. The one he blew up in January had returned, so he was going to have to inflate that again, but with a better balloon this time. Before doing that, he wanted to use the IVUS to make sure there weren’t any more, and to get some more information about my superior vena cava. I could see the screens today, so I can tell you that an ultrasound inside your veins looks like the title sequence of Doctor Who. Like going into a black hole. From this, he was able to glean that there isn’t any more narrowing, but it is scarred. Lines for seven years will do that to you.

Satisfied that I only needed the one inflation, he gave me some sedation (they are not comfortable experiences) and I had a tiny nap. Then all the tubes and wires got pulled out and I had to lie there while he pressed very hard on the puncture site to stop the bleeding.

In recovery, I had some water, then the nurses took me and my notes back to ambulatory care. Mommy was coming back in at the same time, so we both returned to my bedspace and I told her what had gone on. Andrew came round too, and we talked through what he’d seen. He also explained that there’s no point in strenting the vein he inflated because it’s surrounded by bones and fibrous tissue so would probably just get crushed. I have to keep wearing the sleeve and squeezing the stress ball, and hope that this time it’s had the desired effect. I’ll get an appointment for his clinic. Maybe I’ll be able to wear something that doesn’t drown me.

The 7th of April. 

Oh man, it has not been a good day. I barely slept, had to keep turning over, but every time I did, my back was agonising. It has been horrific all day. If I move in even slightly the wrong way, I make involuntary noises out of pain. I have not been able to go and pet Spike because I cannot get on the floor.

First thing to filter through from the Today programme was that Trump had suddenly decided to send a load of missiles to Syria. Oh, good. World War 3 probably imminent. 

When I managed to get downstairs, I wrote up a blog post, and rang up the spa I’m going to tomorrow. I’m having a “body polish” and I just wanted to talk to them about my current condition before I turn up tomorrow. The lady I spoke to thought it should be fine, but she would check with her boss and call me back. She said it was fine, so I shall go a bit early tomorrow so I have time to talk to them and climb the stairs. 

After lunch, I was at the GP to get the pain patches prescribed (finally). I have to cut them in half to start off with and apply them weekly, so I’ll start them on Sunday. Really hoping they don’t make my breathing even worse. 

The 8th of April. 

So tired. Had Zopiclone last night to override the pain, but it didn’t really work so instead I had a bad sleep and I’ve been desperate to curl up in a ball and nap all day. Stupid brain and pain. 

This morning I had my appointment at the spa for my body scrub. I climbed the stairs (with help from the oxygen) and got taken into a little side room. Fran (the therapist) left me in there to get changed into the paper pants and underneath the towel on the heated bed. She came back in, and I lay face down with my face in the hole, and she systematically exfoliated all of my limbs and my back. Then I turned over, and she did the other side. I could tell she was wondering why my knees are so wrinkly or how I got the scar on my stomach but I didn’t feel like launching into the whole story. She did compliment me on the flatness of my tummy but it really only looks that way when I’m lying down and the scar is deceptive. 

When it was finished, she left so I could get dressed, but when I tried to sit up, my back screamed and I really thought I might be stuck. I had to fight through it, because I had to get off the bed and put clothes on. I’d just got my pants back on when she knocked to come back in so I had to put a stop to that. Then I just had to contend with getting my dress back on. When I was finally clothed, I opened the door, and she helped me back out. 

I am still tired. Bed soon. Please. 

The 28th of February. 

Happy Secret Surprise Day! Looking back, I actually booked this in August, so well done me for having the foresight to check so far in advance. 

No entertainment on the trains this morning, just the policeman I saw surreptitiously tucking a spoon into his jacket. Was he expecting some kind of cereal emergency later on? I will never know. 

The Euston chap arrived promptly with the ramp, so Christine wasn’t waiting to meet us for long. We all got in the lift, and went down to the taxi rank, where I asked the taxi driver to take us to The Ritz! Surprise!

The doorman had to get a minion to let us in (ramp issues), so we got to go in the back way, seeing the private cars parked there (including an orange/gold Bentley 4×4 with the numberplate “I GLO” which was hideous) and the “private quarters” on the way to the afternoon tea area. Our coats were taken, and then I rather awkwardly had to take the arm of the maître’d as he took us to our table, because I am obviously infirm. 

We sat in the corner, so I oversaw the rest of the diners, and Mommy and Christine watched the people who were having some sort of reception behind me – honours were being given out at the palace today and we think Kirsty Young may have received one. Unfortunately, to confirm, I would have had to turn around (and quite blatantly stare) so we were forced to speculate. 

We ordered our teas (I was intrigued by a chocolate mint one, but settled on Assam Tippy Orthodox, so it wouldn’t fight any food flavours). 

The tea stand arrived, full of sandwiches and cakes. It’s a funny procedure – you eat your sandwiches (ham with grain mustard mayonnaise on sliced brioche, cheddar cheese with chutney on tomato bread, cucumber with cream cheese, dill and chives on granary bread, chicken breast with parsley cream on malt bread, scottish smoked salmon with lemon butter on sourdough bread and egg mayonnaise with chopped shallots on white bread), then when they are gone, they bring you more, plus the (still warm) scones with jam and cream. Scones are the best part – when they break apart without the need of a knife, they are perfect. I hate jam, but I like a very thin layer of cream, so it’s like butter. 

The cakes were a tad disappointing, but that was only in my opinion, because they all contained cream and/or some kind of fruity crap, which I do not like. Thankfully, my experience was saved by the cake trolley which came round, and I had a slice of chocolate and hazelnut loaf i.e. Nutella cake. 

By the end of this, we were all suitably stuffed, and we had to vacate the table by 3.15, so we retrieved our coats from the cloakroom and get one of the many waiting cabs to the V&A. 

We arrived a little early for our allocated slot in the Undressed exhibition, so we wandered around the free area, looking at the tombs of knights and stained glass until it was time to go to the fashion gallery. The exhibition was all about the history of underwear, so started from the earliest forms of corsets, up until the present day, which included the waist trainer. Funny how things come full circle like that. There were also historical pyjamas, dressing gowns, underwear as outerwear – Kate Moss’ infamous see-through dress was there, and one of Dita von Teese’s corsets. There was a beautiful gold crocheted dress; something I would love to be able to make. 

When we were finished with the exhibition, we had a chat about what to do next, and it seemed that the most sensible thing would be to stay at the museum until it closed, looking around the rest of the free exhibitS, when we would get a cab back to Euston. 

So for an hour we bimbled about, looking at Raphael’s cartoons (not that kind of cartoon) and learning about Lockwood Kipling, father of Rudyard, but a man of whom I had never heard. 

When we left the museum, Christine went to get the tube home, and Mommy and I climbed into another waiting taxi. Very lucky with them today. Then it took us a good half an hour to get back to Euston, where we purchased magazines and beverages, then took up our usual spot in the assistance office until it was time for our train. 

No waiting in the cold on the platform today, and no delays getting back, so this time we were home by half past nine and I am happy to have given Mommy a nice birthday treat. 

The 1st of March.

Argh. Had Zopiclone last night but it did no good, just feel crap today without having had any extra sleep. Breathing has been dreadful. 

Mommy and I were both at the chiro this morning, with her going first. When it came to my turn, I got her to work on the thing that happens across my back when I lie on my right side (which I have to do to sleep), and she stretched out the abdominal muscle that has been spasming multiple times every day. We shall see tonight if it’s had any effect. 

This afternoon, I’ve been writing about yesterday, trying to talk to Imelda/anybody that can tell me what’s happening with my arm, and agonising about the Old Hallfieldian Society meeting tonight. My breathing has been so awful that I really didn’t feel like I could face it, but I didn’t want to be the reason behind another cancelled meeting because there wasn’t a quorum. 

I decided I would go, and if they needed me, I would stay. Then, when Celia answered the door, she said just to stay for half an hour while Mommy read the paper. So I stayed for most of the agenda, not contributing much but that didn’t matter.

Now, back home, and I’m going to have pancakes.  

The 27th of January.

Long days and late nights do not suit me. It took me ages to go to sleep because I was so cold, so I’ve been absolutely exhausted today. 

I got up at half past nine, very reluctantly, and stayed in my pyjamas all morning. I didn’t have the energy to engage with This Morning so I let BBC 2 burble in the background while I wrote about yesterday. That took a long time because I was just feeling useless and wretched, and that is why I have not typed it up yet. 

After lunch, we changed the dressing on my arm (small puncture wound, very little to report) and I put on some warm clothes. My arm has not even started to deflate yet and even my big jumpers are getting a bit snug. I had a bit of a lie down but lacking the capability to nap in the day, it doesn’t really help, so I came back downstairs and have just been a big floop. 

I answered some Cats Protection emails and spoke to Shaki, but I can’t even remember what about now. I might take some Zopiclone tonight and try to have a big sleep. Feel like garbage. 

The 28th of January. 

A sleep has helped. Not back to normal yet but getting there. Another early night will be required. 

Having had Zopiclone, I can barely remember what I’ve done today. I know I wrote up my blog post about London and my venoplasty (update: still no improvement, fairly sure it’s actually getting worse), I went upstairs to unpack my new hairdryer, but other than that, I’m not really sure how I managed to while away the day. 

Definitely no watching of any tv that had to be paid attention to, nor any reading of books. I finished The Man in the High Castle on Wednesday, and I’ve got The Invention of Numbers out to read next but I haven’t started it yet. 

I got in touch with the gym to pause membership again and they’ve done it for five months, although I can resume it at any time. Frankly I’ve got no idea when I’ll be fit for any kind of activity; I can barely walk from room to room without getting distressingly breathless.

New body please. 

The 1st of October. 

Even more pain tonight, but for a good reason – London trip for Christine’s birthday! Had to be awake ridiculously early so we could be at New Street for 8:40. I bought a Guardian and a Pumpkin Spice latte for the train because I am so very basic, and we sped down the country to Euston. 

Christine met us there, and we got a cab to Berner’s Tavern. Had it not been pissing it down, we would have walked/wheeled. Not today. The restaurant is within The London Edition Hotel and it is niiiiice. Very fancy. We were early for our reservation, so sat in the lobby, had coffee and gave Christine her presents. Just token things because we’re giving her a voucher for a fancy cooking lesson of her choosing, so I gave her a crocheted mini manatee and whale. She is going to add them to her crochet corner at work. 

We moved through to our table, and I already knew what I was having, so while everybody else perused the menu, I just looked at all the pictures on the walls and watched the other people coming in. I was the only one who went for a sweet brunch dish – buttermilk pancakes with Nutella and bananas (no hazelnuts, I had those omitted). They were so good, but I couldn’t quite finish them. Curse my tiny stomach. I had a curly kale, apple, cucumber and lime juice to go with it, so I had some of my five a day. Plus the banana of course. Then everybody else wanted pudding, which I most definitely did not, so I had a flat white while they ate their desserts. I’m fairly certain Liam Gallagher came in while we were there – I tried to take a stealthy photo but it didn’t work out very well. 

By the time we left, the rain had stopped, so we decided not to get a cab to the theatre, where we were seeing Ian McKellen and Patrick Stewart in No Man’s Land. On the way, we happened to pass a Crosstown Doughnuts, so I went in to buy a cinnamon scroll to eat later, and while in the queue, I petted a dog called Cherub who was a chihuahua/Japanese Chin cross and I was happy as a clam. 

We arrived at the Wyndham’s just after two, so we stashed the wheelchair and found our seats. We had an excellent view, but it is an old theatre, and the seats were not good for my back. For the most part, I managed to forget about the pain, because the play was so good. I have not seen any Pinter before, so being introduced to his work by two of the world’s greatest living actors was pretty cool. Obviously it was an incredible performance from all the four actors involved (there are two younger men as well), sometimes uncomfortable, sometimes funny (and some lines taking on new meaning in current context) and overall amazing. Standing ovation at the end, and I found myself welling up for no reason that I could think of. Maybe because I just felt so lucky to be there. 

From there, we went to Picturehouse for a drink and a nibble before returning to Euston. I just had a St. Clements because I still didn’t want any food, but I did get a Mini Egg cookie to take home and eat tomorrow. We talked about the play, found that Daddy had nodded off a couple of times but not missed too much, tried to work out why the man sitting in front of us had left in the interval, and before we knew it, it was time to get a taxi back to the station. Hailing one wasn’t yielding results, so I whipped out my phone, and within five minutes we were on our way home. 

We were sat in the quiet coach on the train, but I put my earphones in anyway, and listened to a Flatshare Slamdown podcast while wishing the journey faster so I could lie down. 

So much fun, but so much pain. 

The 2nd of October.  

I don’t feel quite as awful as I thought I would, but still not great. I think I was helped by the Zopiclone I took last night, and I made no effort to get out of bed before I wanted to. I was up by ten though, I’m not an animal. 

I threw on my huge green polo neck for the first time this year, and spent what was left of the morning curled up in the armchair, writing about yesterday. Long post ahoy. I did get it finished by the end of Sunday Brunch, and to take my mind off my stiffness, I had scrambled eggs on one of my rainbow bagels for lunch, then my Mini Egg cookie. It definitely helped. 

This afternoon, Mommy took Grandma to get her hearing aids adjusted, and while I waited for her to return (so we could watch last night’s Strictly), I have just sat and crocheted. It is not super interesting to write about but I’ve made a good amount of progress and I don’t think it’ll take much longer to finish. I do look forward to being able to reveal it after Christmas. 

Going to lie down on the floor again now. I am going to be doing lots of stretching until I see the pain team.