Monday, November 30, 2009

Vasovagal Aetiology

I got an 'ology'! Well, possibly maybe an ology...and a P2 murmur just for extra special benefit! Nope, I have no idea what it all means either...Apparently the fainting episodes are linked with vasovagal syncope, origin as yet undetermined. Have just had the cardiac tests with the results pending - once through I can hopefully rule out cardiac issues as the cause.

It's a bit spooky, seeing inside your own heart. Well, for the first five minutes it was fascinating. The technician was excellent - she talked me through everything on the screen and showed me all the valves - as my heart was going at 130 beats per minutes, the sight of my flappy valve thingies going at speed was just a little bit too much...I decided to close my eyes for the rest of the test. Either that or barf...

I then had a 24hr ECG. Simples? Nooooo, oh no. Who knew I could be allergic to the sticky chest pads. I spent twenty of the twenty four hours desperately trying not to rip my skin off. Needless to say, sleep was in shot supply and my temper even shorter the following day. Even the ECG technician was shocked when the gaffer tape came off - red, bubbling welts all over my chest. I looked liked I'd been attacked by giant mutant suckers, probably attached to some hideous sea monster with crunchy inner teeth...

Ahem. Enough about my eel issues. Tilting tables and possible projectile vomit next - what fun!

GD: happy as a pig in muck (hmmm...actually a pig in muck?!); listening to Buffy! The Musical!; lamenting the loss of Borders UK - fecking global capitalism really doesn't work.

Friday, November 06, 2009

Broken Doll

Paloma Faith - Broken Doll (takes a minute for her to start so bear with it)

First round of tests yesterday - not so bad apart from the vomiting pensioners all about us. Positively streaming green bile. Modesty sent flapping into the breeze as usual, with them sticky little ECG pad things. They then dumped a tea towel over my salient assets - really, I wouldn't have bothered. They'd withered with the cold already.

Heart rate: excited. Heart murmur status: still present but presumed innocent. Actually, the registrar was wonderful, very thorough considering I'd lost my voice completely and had to suck soothers throughout the examination in order to squeak on demand. I have to go back for an echo cardiogram, 24 hour ECG and the topsey turvey tables but they already suspect they know what it is. And it's nothing majorly serious which is a relief. No formal diagnosis until the tests are complete but naturally the advice still precludes me from having beer, chips or chocolate (though I was so thoroughly sick of myself today I had a skinny latte and ginger loaf cake from Starbucks when I got sent home from work yet again...ok, so I'm probably infectious but I'm also lonely. My germs are lonely!).

I'm positively fed up, if you can be such a thing. I think I need to write my manifesto and a new design for life. I'm going to end up sacked if my health doesn't improve, and whilst my manager is absolutely wonderful about everything, I am genuinely concerned.

Still, it's the weekend. I am getting marginally better, and I have had cake. I bought tickets to go see the lovely Paloma. I'm slightly obsessed and would quite happily swap my scraggy old bones for hers. Doubt she feels the same somehow...

GD: in bed but still managing to have cold feet; listening to Paloma, Eden House and Incubus Succubus (eclectic mix but hey! I'm bored). Lonely.