Hospital Times

So, yeah. I'm in hospital at the moment for some routine treatment after my last checkup didn't go too well. My lung function had dropped to 25% (a bit shit) and I was called for a bed after waiting a week. It's all very routine as I expected to need treatment after finishing university which drained me.

I've been thinking about writing a blog about it as time in here is difficult in many ways and time itself passes incredibly slowly indeed. Sometimes, seconds and minutes seem like hours as we await the IV drugs doing their thing to slowly aid our bodies back to a decent level of health.

So what happens when I am admitted into hospital for a two week period of treatment?

First of all I'll head to my room and unpack all my stuff, make things slightly more homely.

We're incredibly lucky at our CF Unit in Leeds as it was purposely built for us a few years ago at a cost of about £2.1 million if I remember correctly. It is comprised of 13 in-patient beds, 5 out-patient rooms along with several admin offices and conference rooms for the staff and doctors who work tirelessly to nurse us back to health after bouts of bad infection.

A lot of hospitals with CF Units around the UK are pretty dire from what I've seen and been told via other CF patients on Twitter and Facebook. This is due to a lack of awareness and facilities. There's currently around 9,000 people with CF in the UK and that makes it a minority disease, which in turn means lack of funding and facilities that have a knock on effect to patients care depending on where you live.

The CF Trust and NHS are doing sterling work though to make sure all hospitals have a good standard of CF care facilities. I am very grateful I live in Leeds as ours is a recognized centre of excellence so I'm in good hands. We have about 400 patients registered at our unit which is astounding so again I'm grateful for the high standard of care we recieve here.

Anyways, enough with the ass kissing. Once all my crap is unpacked and I check that everything is working in my room and then we are usually seen by a doctor who will assign the various treatments that we are going to undertake during our stay. Sometimes it is done by junior doctors (usually don't have a fucking clue as they are still learning) and sometimes by senior consultants. It all depends on how the cookie crumbles.

I'm prescribed high strength IV antibiotics to combat the bacteria growing inside my lungs which I take through a drip at 10pm, 6am, and 2pm and boy do they kick the shit out of you in all manner of ways.

You see, they have side effects. The ones I'm on make you incredibly tired and just generally make you feel weird but it's a necessary evil. Most of the side effects from the drugs and from having CF itself I can handle but the tiredness is something else. Spending two weeks constantly drained no matter how much sleep you may get is just no fun whatsoever and leaves you feeling quite emo eventually which is where I am with them now. I'm tired. I sleep. I wake and am still tired. It's a relentless cycle. And, combined with the fact that I have daily exercise that tires me out further as part of my treatment and some deliciously hot and muggy weather at the moment then I am not a happy bunny at all.

That's the bit that winds me up. I'm usually one happy bastard despite my rantings on Twitter and Facebook and I'm pissing myself off now at not being very cheery and constantly feeling like I want to tear everyone's heads off for the slightest little indiscretion. I miss being my happy normal (ish) self.

It's a neccesary evil though as I said, I have to endure this as it is just how it is and at least after 10 days of treatment I only have 4 left until I can go home and have my freedom again. The light is at the end of the tunnel. I can finally see it. Thank fuck.

I should in all honesty just shut the fuck up and deal with it as there are friends who have had to endure months in hospital whilst being severely ill and I sometimes wonder how I will cope when those times come for me in the future. I live nought but a 20 min bus journey away and have plenty of things I can occupy myself with whilst many patients are from farther away from their homes and loved ones. The tiredness has claimed me though. My concentration is shot and I don't have the energy to do normal stuff. If I manage to then I'm usually a muted druggy mess which frustrates me further as I feel like I'm being shit company If I do spend time with mates and loved ones.

It's even taking a while to organize my thoughts into something coherent whilst typing this. Lame.

I honestly cannot wait to get home. The first thing I always do is drop my bags as soon as I'm inside my flat and go straight to bed. That thought alone is making me so moist right now I kid you not.

*le sigh*

At least feeling like this is not permanent and after lots of sleep I will be back on top form.

I'll write something more cheerier then and may edit this as I'm sure there's plenty more I can write.

Peace out.

That Was The Week, That Was...

So, a week has gone by since my last blog and nothing much exciting has happened really... oh wait, I only went and graduated motherloving University on Tuesday didn't I?!

It. Was. Ace.

My official title is now Andrew Ward BA (Hons) in Media and Popular Culture. Fuck yeah.

I had two graduation ceremonies to attend as myself and one of my closest friends had bagged some prestigious awards. We were nominated by our tutors and won The Dean's Prize for Outstanding Student Achievement which was nice. I also bagged the Best Dissertation Award and The Alan McGregor Award too which is given to the mature student who has made an outstanding contribution to University during their time there - go me ey, a hat-trick of awesome!

We were slightly worried that our prizes were something like Boots or Poundland vouchers but instead we got a cheque for £50 each, and then I also got two £50 Book vouchers. Maybe I'll purchase 50 Shades of Bullshit or Twishite with them eh girls? Nahhh, I can't see that happening in all honesty so they shall go toward my impending Master's degree book buying activities. So all in all a good haul I think.

The main graduation ceremony lasted about an hour. University dignitaries congratulated us all and gave speeches and so on, then our moment of glory came as we ascended the main stage to shake the Dean's hand. This bit was really surreal as I think everyone was concentrating so hard on not faceplanting the stage and tripping up over their gowns that it now seems a bit of a blur looking back. This was especially true of the girls as most wore the most ridiculous shoes ever and yet they all managed to cross the stage without faceplanting (good skillz girls!). I scooted over without any mishaps too and gave the waiting audience and my family the thumbs up (classic celebratory stylee), before slapping a firm manshake on the Dean so he knew how I rolled and then went back to my seat.

After that, it was time to drink! I hung around for a few hours seeing tutors and chatting to friends for what will be the last time, or not for a very long time again anways and I was really chuffed to see everyone so happy and celebrating with their families. Once everyone had snapped and papped us all to death we ditched our caps and gowns (it was sweltering in them with the heat!) and we all made our way seperate ways home to prepare for evening drinkage in Leeds once everyone had gone for their family meals and such like.

I had a quick log in to Faceache once home and was chuffed to see friends from America had logged in to watch the ceremony which was streamed live along with countless congratulatory messages and compliments stating that I apparently looked handsome in my gown even though I was sweating like Katie Price at an STI clinic. Ewww, what a horrible comparison I just made.

So yeah, here's me being all proud and shit with my first class honours degree:

I guess I am really proud in all honesty. I had the worst time in my final six months of university which makes my final grade all that more special as I really doubted I would get there at one point. I split with The Girl right before New Year's Eve, did the whole heart broken thing, lost loads of weight (yeah, it happens to guys too) and was then struck down with a serious CF-specific virus in early May on top of all of that.

I remember when I was in hospital at that point, my lungs were down to 25% which for those that aren't aware is pretty serious and I was just finding everything a little bit difficult if I do say so myself. I wondered if that period of ill health at that time would drag my grades down and also scupper an exam I was trying to prepare for whilst I was in hospital.

But, thankfully it didn't. I somehow managed to write my dissertation from my hospital bed in 10 days with zero rewrites and I gained an 84 mark for it too. I also aced the exam I had to prepare for as well which was a shock as I thought I was done for and really didn't want to sit it. I remember walking into the exam room the day after discharge from hospital and thinking, ''there's no fucking way I'm passing this one after being a druggy mess in hospital for the past two weeks.''

Guess what though? I got a 74 mark for the exam. Fucking get in *victory fist punches the air*

I'm just glad I didn't give in and battled through. I worked hard in some of the worst circumstances i've had to endure, both in my personal life and my academic life and made that shit my bitch. Fuck yeah.

The night out round Leeds was more low-key than previous post exam drinkage, I think everyone was knackered as it had been a long and draining day but we still managed to smash some champers:

All in all it was an ace day. I even got a cheeky snog too from someone who I was supposed to go on a date with a few weeks ago as she was out in Leeds that night, which was nice. That reminds me of the Fligh of the Conchords song 'A Kiss Is Not a Contract' haha. YouTube it if you don't know what I'm talking about.

So, what else has happened this week?

One of my good CF mates I've gotten to know on Faceache only went and got her call for transplant on Thursday which is AMAZING news as she was seriously ill indeed. She's ace and has been fighting so hard like a trooper to stay positive despite being so seriously ill at end-stage, so it was brilliant to hear she had recieved the call for some shiny new lungs. She is recuperating well and her blog can be found here which chronicles her journey: http://kimberleyliane.blogspot.co.uk/

It is definitely worth mentioning that thoughts go out to the donor's family who had to lose a loved one in order for this to happen. If you want to join the organ donor register and help save lives then here's the link: http://www.organdonation.nhs.uk/ukt/default.asp




Saturday was a mixed bag. I attended a soiree at my good friend's house in Wakefield. A family BBQ to celebrate her achieving first class honours and the award I mentioned earlier. I had to leave earlyish as my back was aching from my chest being bad at the moment which pissed me off a treat as I was all set to party for a few more hours. I'd already necked some painkillers at the party and they didn't even touch it so I knew it was best to go home and get some rest. Fuck you CF.

It is SO frustrating at times when it starts fucking over you doing stuff you enjoy and I was in agony by the time I'd got back to Leeds so I necked more painkillers and hit the sack. In bed for just after 11.30pm on a Saturday night. Fuck my life!



I'm feeling pretty vile mood-wise today as a result so think it is time for more IVs as I am in need of a boost. My spirits and energy levels have been flagging for weeks now so I should be admitted to recharge my batteries. I have my checkup on Friday so I'll get that sorted then. Handy timing so I will be back to my normal cheery self and ready to party for my 34th birthday in September which is another achievement, and then the start of my Master's degree which I'm gonna' rip that bitch's panties off and ride her on the love length train to success - fuck yeah!

Whatever that means.

Peace out motherlovers.