I should never have remarked on the behaviour of Cute Ute the Despoiler. Last night, at about three in the bloody Goddamned morning, she woke me with ferocious cramps and a gush of blood and clots. Oh, hurrah.

I eventually woke the (exhausted, half-dead-with-stress) H while fumbling helplessly about for the co-codamol (I was in the wrong room altogether). H found the pills, fetched me a glass of water, and made me up a hot-water-bottle to ease the pain in my lower back, and I fell asleep with his hand resting comfortably on my shoulder. H did not fall asleep again, not for a while. I really need to stop doing that to him.

Anyway, I was rather better this morning (though we have ordered a great many more sanitary pads in our next supermarket delivery (we live in a big big city. We are spoilt)). So I wrestled my way into my anti-embolism compression socks and H took me for a little walk around the local park, where all the conveniently-placed benches are. My leg still hurts like a bastard’s bastard son-of-a-camel, so some of the sitdownathons were about me trying to get my leg up and cussing under my breath as my knee spasmed. I was also surprisingly (no. Not surprisingly. You have a pulmonary embolism, you dumb bitch) weak and out of breath. But H took my blood-pressure and pulse when we got home (he has had a machine for years for his own purposes) and my blood-pressure was ‘excellent’ and pulse only 90, which after the sitting-the-fuck-down somersaults of Tuesday and Wednesday we have decided is acceptable.

But, Gentle Readers, compression socks oh my horsey God. I have to wear these for two fucking years. Every day. All day. Compression socks. You know the devil-octopus socks they stick you in if you’re immobilised by surgery? More so. These are not prevention devices, they are medical devices to treat existing DVT. And by ‘eck, but they are devices. The Haematology Nurse warned me I wouldn’t be able to tolerate them right away when she first handed them to me on Wednesday, because of the emming-effing pain I was already in. I managed to get them on for a few hours yesterday, and my poor leg felt like a boa-constrictor was slowly squeezing it to mince. They’re not so bad today, but oh, the pressure. I am under such pressure. Ugh.

I am only grateful this pair are green, and not dead-leg-beige.

To do –

  • GP Monday, to say thank you for taking my whiny leg-cramps seriously, please can I have a spare pair or two of compression socks, and now I need a new improved sick-note for work.
  • Contact work. Explain. Holy crap on a cracker, explain.
  • WTF appointment with Dr George on Tuesday.
  • Make appointment with Riverside’s counsellors. Because sheesh.
  • Echocardiogram Wednesday.
  • Haematology consult on the 12th.
  • Have nervous breakdown.

26 responses to “Indignity

  • sheila

    Two years? Wowsers….

    Very impressed with your GP – please tell him the t’internets like him muchly for looking after our May. Now please sign her off work for at least a month.

    Lots more hugs to you May….

  • Dr Spouse

    I think no explanations. Or maybe just “re-admitted to hospital” (been there, done that, but have no t-shirt or compression stockings. Great excuse for new knitted socks to cover them up though).

  • Amy P

    I couldn’t find what I was looking for, but I suppose this could be attached to a sock…

  • MFA Mama

    I wear compression socks at work in hopes of avoiding the (unavoidable, most likely, per genetic condition) varicose veins, and while they are the preventive sort, not the industrial-strength TREATMENT sort, I can tell you that after a couple of weeks I’ve stopped even noticing the weirdness of them.

  • a

    My phone is really interfering with my commenting mojo. Good thing I have my laptop with me.

    The dead-leg-beige compression stockings are THE WORST! Why do manufacturers assume that anyone would want that color? They should be striped or polka dotted in very loud colors – the better to elicit sympathy.

    Sorry to hear that Cute Ute got all uppity again. Thank goodness H is there to help – the man is a treasure, which I’m sure you know. (Except, of course, when he’s not. I know that must happen sometimes as no one is perfect.)

    • Robyn

      Totally agree about the beige colour choices. I see a business opportunity – I plan to make them in primary colours with a graffit like – DVT can bite my arse – tattoo winding around the leg.

  • Robyn

    And, if it is any consolation, my very own, much beloved, rockstar GP failed to diagnose her own DVT earlier this year. So enough with the dumb bitch comments because…well, I hate hearing my friends called names. And yes, compression stockings, the ultimate indignity.

  • V

    Hi May, I’ve been following for a while and have never commented before, so hello! So, so sorry to hear about this latest turn of events. You couldn’t make this up.

    Also, to share with you two things I learnt from my own compression sock experience –
    – different makes/models vary hugely so see if you can get properly fitted. Where I live we have shops called ‘bandagistes’ which sells all sorts of medical equipment and they measure your legs at different heights to find a pair that compresses just as they should, without painful creasing and cutting off the circulation.
    – the best way to smoothe out the painful creases is to stand on a chair while H, wearing rubber gloves for washing up, smoothes them out evenly.

    Very undignified I’m afraid…

    Look after yourselves. You have each other and that’s so important.

  • Mina

    Sweet lord, I am gone one week, and during that ONE week, May has been in the hospital, bloody cute ute is doing its best, bleeding and being a pain, even more than usual it seems, life threatening condition developed and avoided, and a lond-term medical plan had been set and implemented already. May, I swear I will think twice before booking a vacation for longer than a week, if that, I am truly afraid of what I might get to read about after that…
    Sweet, too long suffering, much too tried and battered lovely people, May and H, I am honestly at a loss for words. I cannot believe you have gone through the fucking tenth miscarriage. And that you have had to go through the entire pandemonium with the DVT and such. My heart aches for you. I wish there were something I could do. Thinking of you and wishing you all the best.

    • Blanche

      Me too. Go away for a week and the universe unilaterally dumps once again on May on top of everything fucking else. Inconceivable. And awful and so so so very not deserved.

  • Twangy

    Two years? ..!! Words fail me. I wish I could come up an adequate response but my mind is stuck on: BUT THIS CAN’T HAPPEN TO MAY, she is too NICE. Which is not helpful.
    I was so sorry to hear about the DVT. It is utterly petrifying. (Again, brain not up to producing proper response. Thanks, brain.) I am thinking of you and wishing you peace and health – also, the energy and forbearance to deal with the appointments this week. Be extra kind to yourselves.

  • Anonymous

    Hey there.

    I don’t know what to say in support… I’m awe-struck at what is being thrown at you both. May this madness pass pronto.

    Do be good to yourselves. Together you’re stronger, as the unions say. Wishing you calmer days, as soon as is possible.

    On the compression socks: argh.

    K x

  • Amy

    I’ve just now caught up on your last four posts and…I don’t even know. I can’t even. I am so so so sorry that you’ve had to endure all this on top of losing 6AA. It’s makes the phrase “too much” seem like a joke. A sick, sick, horrifying joke. I am so glad you got competent treatment with sufficient timeliness, but for the love, Universe, KNOCK IT THE FUCK OFF WITH MAY ALREADY. I hope the compression socks become more bearable quickly, and that nothing else at all is added to your enormous pile of things to be dealing with and having a nervous breakdown over. Always abiding, and wishing you as many moments of peace as possible.

  • Anonymous

    I suppose there is still room to hope that you’ll avoid the nervous breakdown bit, so hope I shall. And I do hope that you plan to email Dr. George in advance of your Tuesday appt., if you haven’t already. While it could provide some mild amusement to take in his virginal reaction to the shock and awe of it all, you are going to him for medical advice, and the DVT/PE encounter was an adverse medical event, if there ever was one. He may need to consult with his colleagues in advance of your appt.

    Like everyone else posting and lurking here, I am sincerely sorry that life has been so damned difficult for you, and how relieved I am that you are still with us on the planet! I just read your previous post too — how absolutely galling is to know that the next generation of docs is being trained to be insensitive to patients and their families. And how I wish your mum could have acted like a proper grownup and picked up her daughter ON TIME in her hour of need, and that you and H didn’t feel the need to take care of her, when indeed, she should be taking care of you both.

    My unhelpful assvice is that my own hormone-induced elevated blood clotting episode resulted in a level of exhaustion that went on for more than a year. I hope that the quality of blood thinners you are on will help you avoid that fate –there’s got to be some silver lining to all of those injections, right? I imagine that 2 years from now you might feel positively naked without compression socks! And with luck, you’ll find some very fetching ones.

    Do take very good care of yourself, May.

  • Betty M

    I also second the email first idea. It’s the opp to give him the details of all your new haematology docs etc as well as hopefully getting a considered view at your appt. The has to be a source of fetching compression socks? If not there bloody well ought to be two years of green or dead leg is not good.

  • Anonymous

    Good grief, you poor pair seem to be a veritable crap-magnet right now! Am shaking my fist at the universe on your behalf and hoping brighter days are coming your way x.

  • Jenny F. Scientist, PhD

    I inquired mightily of the Internet for argyle compression stockings but – as you’ve doubtless already discovered – by the time you get to the “DVT/ PE/ ALMOST DIED” level, they seem to think you’re beyond all that. I did find one with a zipper, which looks like it would be extremely uncomfortable.

  • Emily Erin

    While I have no input on finding fun compression socks (only black and beige here, sorry), I do suggest arnica for your lovely bruises if you haven’t already tried it. While it doesn’t make them go away completely immediately, it doubles healing time in my unscientific estimate. Hugs, prayers, wine, chocolate, a long holiday, and a Feckin’ break– these are the things I’m wishing for you two right now.

    • Jenny F. Scientist, PhD

      I would, on the other hand, be deeply hesitant to use arnica gel, which has non-homeopathic, anti-inflammatory, bioactive components (henalin, sesquiterpenes, etc.) in equally non-homeopathic quantities and which has been shown to inhibit platelets in vitro. I don’t know if it will actually fuck with your coagulation in vivo, but on the other hand, neither does anyone else. Also, chocolate and wine. Scientifically proven to help, right?

      • Emily Erin

        Yipes! Had not looked into the potential clotting issues. Only had my very own bruise fighting prowress to report on.

        • Jenny F. Scientist, PhD

          It is *fantastic* for bruises! It actually does something! It’s totally not really homeopathic so much as ‘herbal remedy’! Under normal circumstances I’m all for it! 🙂 Just in this particular case…. maybe chocolate instead.

  • sheila

    Best of luck for your appt with Dr George this morning….. Hope you get to have a constructive chat wi him.

  • Emily Erin

    Hoping that this morning’s appointment was illuminating, and not as depressing as it could be? Sending chocolate.

  • chickenpig

    If this were my list it would read: have nervous breakdown/crying jag/drink loads of booze.That’s all…repeat. There should be a special clinic where those who have lost a baby and are dealing w the medical consequences can stay. A personal assistant who takes care of all the difficult phonecalls and appointments is included. I hope that the WTF goes as well as can be expected.

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