Well part 3. Who knew it would take me so long to be able to write this up. Perhaps this is why I dread writting in here any longer. Things get complex and I begin to rmable and the entry suffers by getting longer and longer.
So Monday I was admitted to hospital and Tuesday I went to theatre.I spke to my surgeon in the anesthtic room, where I usually seem him. He said he would like to have a try with a T tube. Which is kinda what it sounds like, the tube is shaped like a T, with the long piece coming out of my neck where my trach currently sticks out. The thing being is they tend to block easier and are a smaller opening. I had a lot of trouble with it last time we tried.
We are short on options, so we decided to go with the usual steam of laser and dilation and anything else he thought may help whilst he was there. With the aim that in Januaury, we will review things and review the T tube again.
With that, they knocked me out with the gas, as they couldnt get any lines in so they were going to do it once I was out of it. Good job really, I came around black and blue where there had been at least 7 attempts, plus at least one tissues and flooded the skin instead. I had one cannula in place in the end, down the back of my wrist and up the inside of my thumb.With many many layers of tape on it to support it.
But none of this I took in at first. The first thing I remember wastrying to scream in pain. I never scream in pain, but this was intense. I also have very little vocal function right after surgery and so my scream was probably more of a squeak. They gave me pain meds, then doubled what I had, but I was still unable to breathe properly through the pain. I was panting, hands clenched into fists. It was exhausting and trying to make myself heard, was frustrating. It was almost as if they didnt believe I was in pain. They kept saying things like, you have had all we can give you, so you just have to wait now and we will get you back to the ward. The thought of being stuck on the ward, were I wait hours at best for pain meds terrfied me even more. But I felt so vulnerable, so just noded in agreement. The recovery staff kept speaking to the ENT team who increased things for me. She came to check on me at one point and just said, you do not look comfortable at all, at which point I just broke down, at last someone was listening to me. I almost begged her to knock me out because I couldnt deal with it. I have done painful procedures, but this was only meant to be laser, easy surgery.
At last pain was under control and so recovery rang the ward for them to come up and collect me. And this is where the wait hit in. They did this to me last month. They kept me waiting two and a half hours last month, because they were too busy to come and collect me. Sitting in reocvery for a prolonged time is so frustrating. There are no toilets, so you have to cross your legs or go down the bed pan route. Then you miss your meal, because your not on the ward and once they have phoned the ward they cant give you any more pain relief as the ward could come at any time. This time I waited just on 2 hours. Same nure again. I get on with all the staff apart from this one nurse.
Finally on the ward and my pain was building up again. No sign of my nurse, no one could find her. My pain levels were reaching maximum and I was feeling like crap. I came so close to just packing my stuff up and walking out. My thinking was that at least if I were at home, I would be able to control my own meds. Just then, hand over staff came on and as I say, I know most of the staff now, they know I dont complain, so walk in on me with tears streaming down my face, mutttering about self discharge. The nurse soon figured out that it was pain that was driving me that me and within a few minutes, she had gone and goten my pain meds. Even though she should have been in handover she sat with me for 20 mins while the meds kicked in and my heart rate came back down. I have never been like this before. I have never needed anyone, but then I had never had pain like it and I admit that the whole thing scared the crap out of me. As has the following week really.
Wednesday I spoke to my team fully. They are still shocked at just how much my airway scars up and closes in the short space of a month. They know that in between I have no real quality of life. I guess that is a subject that has come up a lot recently, quality of life.
They were not sure if the breathing tube pushing up is causing the scar tissue to appear faster. Though we have tried keeping the tube tied down before, it still tends to break through the tissue or strings. So this time, they have dug a channel out, the lower end of which they think is much stronger than the rest of my trachea.
They have put the trach tube into this channel and stitched it in several places, very close to my collarbone in order to hold its place. I go back Wednesday for them to see what has happened, with the aim of taking the stitched out.
Personally I dont think that it will stop the tube heading up, but I am willing to go with it with my fingers crossed. In the mean time however, my pain has lesseend, and yet I am still in a great deal of it. Inside my neck, along my glands and across the front where it is stitched. All causing there own variety of pain. This is making it difficult to cough and to add to the baf, my chest is sore and my chest muscles ache. But fingers crossed that will all settle Wednesday.
And that brings me to my current issue. In recovery, they pump me full of all kinds, most of which has no effect these days. Morphine, fentanyl and tramadol. And of course the wonderful back up of ketamine.
But when I am home, pain meds are a little harder to control. There are so many of them that do strange things to me. For example oral trammadol, is like taking smarties, I dont get any helpful effect at all. Other meds like Oxynorm, send me crazy, to the point where I dont know who I am or where I am. This leaves me with my go to meds, mainly oralmorphine. But the side effects get worse each time I use it. The itching was always the biggest problem, but that could be managed with enough creams and piraton. But now, the oralmorphine, leaves me with insomnia. For this admission and to get me through, they have prescribed me some zopiclone sleeping tablets. so I can keep the pain under control as well as getting some sleep.
But now, I am finding it harder and harder to stay awake. Today, I got up just before 12. By 2 I had gone back to bed and didnt wake 8. Had some tea at 8:30 and proptly fell asleep with my fork still in my hand.
tonight, I am droping the sleepers, in hopes that I can spend some times awake tomorrow.
And apart from that, heres hoping Wednesday brings good news. for my body can not take anymore.
And know you know why my writting is so awful. I find myself falling asleep mid typing or mid conversation or just in general. My head cant help but think, is this what the end will feel like? And how long would I hjave till I hit that point.
I mean, how much and how long would you carry on fighting if there was no chance of change.
Delieghtful thought to sign off with, but always good to show my brain is still workin.
Showing posts with label sleeping. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sleeping. Show all posts
Monday, November 11, 2013
Thursday, May 05, 2011
sleep
I dont think I portrayed myself very well last night.
I came across as a spoilt brat and thats not it. I dont hide away as a punishment or way to avoid things, well i a little I guess.
More so, my self esteem is very low and I am acutely aware of that. When I put a lot of effort into something only to be put down, it feels like a huge personal knock every time. I hide in my room as a form of protection. I just cant face any one out of fear of more knocks.
Today, I have paid for yesterday. I knew it would take it out of me, but I guess I didnt anticipate just how much.
I woke today, with a struggle at about 12:20. Nobody was home, so I made a piece of toast, while struggling to keep my eyes open. Ate my toast, checked my emails and such and by 1:30, I had fell asleep again, in the sun on my bed.
I was so comfortable, lying on my pillows with the warm sun on my body.
Next thing I know its 6:30 and the phone was ringing. Mum must have answered the phone, and with a struggle, I forced myself to wake up. I think I could easily have slept right through till tomorrow morning.
Scary dreams though. Trying to put stuff away in my dreams, but struggling to move them. Light things weighing a ton in my arms. Later on in the dream, I find myself in some freak accident. Going down a hill fast, shooting off the side, unable to stop myself. People looking for me but not able to find me. Unable to do anything about it. The search for me, lost within the clean up of the rest off the accident.
blah.
The bottom of my left lung is giving me pain again. Stuck between a rock and a hard place. To go to the doctors now, feeling unwell, would probably effect the surgery as I would need anti biotics. But to risk it getting worse is also a risk. I play a dangerous game. I am going to ignore things, hopefully they wont notice either. And after surgery, I will be on anti biotics anyway, so it should clear up. I know, not the best idea, but I will in the mean time work on keeping my chest clear. Now if I can just stay awake long enough to go through my treatments.
I came across as a spoilt brat and thats not it. I dont hide away as a punishment or way to avoid things, well i a little I guess.
More so, my self esteem is very low and I am acutely aware of that. When I put a lot of effort into something only to be put down, it feels like a huge personal knock every time. I hide in my room as a form of protection. I just cant face any one out of fear of more knocks.
Today, I have paid for yesterday. I knew it would take it out of me, but I guess I didnt anticipate just how much.
I woke today, with a struggle at about 12:20. Nobody was home, so I made a piece of toast, while struggling to keep my eyes open. Ate my toast, checked my emails and such and by 1:30, I had fell asleep again, in the sun on my bed.
I was so comfortable, lying on my pillows with the warm sun on my body.
Next thing I know its 6:30 and the phone was ringing. Mum must have answered the phone, and with a struggle, I forced myself to wake up. I think I could easily have slept right through till tomorrow morning.
Scary dreams though. Trying to put stuff away in my dreams, but struggling to move them. Light things weighing a ton in my arms. Later on in the dream, I find myself in some freak accident. Going down a hill fast, shooting off the side, unable to stop myself. People looking for me but not able to find me. Unable to do anything about it. The search for me, lost within the clean up of the rest off the accident.
blah.
The bottom of my left lung is giving me pain again. Stuck between a rock and a hard place. To go to the doctors now, feeling unwell, would probably effect the surgery as I would need anti biotics. But to risk it getting worse is also a risk. I play a dangerous game. I am going to ignore things, hopefully they wont notice either. And after surgery, I will be on anti biotics anyway, so it should clear up. I know, not the best idea, but I will in the mean time work on keeping my chest clear. Now if I can just stay awake long enough to go through my treatments.
Friday, March 04, 2011
content
Right now, I am filled to the brim with feeling content. This is what happiness feels like, so calm and peaceful.
I love waking to the sun in my eyes. I am really lucky, in that, my bedroom window faces the afternoon sun, so from about 10 am it gets really bright. I wake around 12 and it was nice, to just stretch my muscles in the sun for a short while before I began to move.
Two other residents in my house love the sun even more than me. My two tortoises. I spent time snuggling with them, holding them close, chatting away to them. Its wonderful, they once again recognize my voice and listen intently when I talk to them.
We sat in the conservatory together playing, bathing them, spoiling them by hand feeding them. They continually make me laugh. Each essentially the same, yet oh so different. Tiny who is small and gentle, loves cuddles and wouldnt hurt a fly. And Hermy, boisterous and into everything and anything he can reach. I swear they must be the most spoilt tortoises around.
After dinner, I was waiting for my painkillers to kick in, so sat on my bed to check my emails and such. The sun was fully coming through the window bringing a nice breeze with it. I ended up falling asleep on my bed in the sun. I really do love day sleep. I awoke 3 hours later, feeling wonderfully refreshed, more so than I have in a long time.
Since then, I have tidied more of my to the point, that I would say apart from my washing, that it is tidy. Finally, after it being in progress for weeks.
It wont last ha.
I just feel like I have done some productive stuff today. Despite a few pain and headache issues, I feel at ease. Useful and independent. I feel the love oozing out me. Oozing into my room, to my tortoises, to my dad in the back and forth humor and sarcasm we project to each other, the inside jokes and his expression when he is trying his hardest not to grin. To my mum, who I appreciate so much, just the little things, the ability to put up with me and do things for me when I am unable. Music that speaks to me of better days to come, of memories from the past, hope for the future.
I love waking to the sun in my eyes. I am really lucky, in that, my bedroom window faces the afternoon sun, so from about 10 am it gets really bright. I wake around 12 and it was nice, to just stretch my muscles in the sun for a short while before I began to move.
Two other residents in my house love the sun even more than me. My two tortoises. I spent time snuggling with them, holding them close, chatting away to them. Its wonderful, they once again recognize my voice and listen intently when I talk to them.
We sat in the conservatory together playing, bathing them, spoiling them by hand feeding them. They continually make me laugh. Each essentially the same, yet oh so different. Tiny who is small and gentle, loves cuddles and wouldnt hurt a fly. And Hermy, boisterous and into everything and anything he can reach. I swear they must be the most spoilt tortoises around.
After dinner, I was waiting for my painkillers to kick in, so sat on my bed to check my emails and such. The sun was fully coming through the window bringing a nice breeze with it. I ended up falling asleep on my bed in the sun. I really do love day sleep. I awoke 3 hours later, feeling wonderfully refreshed, more so than I have in a long time.
Since then, I have tidied more of my to the point, that I would say apart from my washing, that it is tidy. Finally, after it being in progress for weeks.
It wont last ha.
I just feel like I have done some productive stuff today. Despite a few pain and headache issues, I feel at ease. Useful and independent. I feel the love oozing out me. Oozing into my room, to my tortoises, to my dad in the back and forth humor and sarcasm we project to each other, the inside jokes and his expression when he is trying his hardest not to grin. To my mum, who I appreciate so much, just the little things, the ability to put up with me and do things for me when I am unable. Music that speaks to me of better days to come, of memories from the past, hope for the future.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall
Today, the world feels a little easier.
I feel more comfortable in my own skin.
I have finished the anti biotics so maybe my head can have some space once again.
For some reason, I turn into such a cow on them, bitching at everyone.
But today I say goodbye to them and begin to feel more myself.
I didnt sleep last night.
I accidentally saw something that was not nice for me to see.
It was in my mind all night.
Everytime I drifted off, I woke pretty soon after with a jump.
So after dinner, I was sitting on the couch.
I felt more grounded. Mum sitting next to me, dad on the other side of the room.
I felt safe. I curled up and I slept.
Real sleep. Sleep without dreams, sleep without rude awakenings.
I slept on for 3 hours, but I felt so much better afterwards.
I had the energy to do some of my laundry.
I tided, dusted and vacuumed downstairs.
I finished setting my dads new phone up with ringtones and games.
I taught him how to use it.
I finally emptied my bin (Been promising to do this for like the past 3 days)
And I replied to a load of things I have been putting off.
Im feeling more how I used to feel now.
Breathing still isnt great, but I am determined not to let it get me down.
I have prospects for the future.
There may eventually be an end to this, a cure.
It may result in lots of surgery and hospital time.
It may eventually result in a transplant.
But, if it means I can breathe, if it means I can live without the nebulisers, dressings and tubes.
Then, it will all be worth it.
And if it dosnt work out that way, then least I know that I gave it my best shot.
I found a letter the other day.
I wrote it when I first got out of hospital the very first time.
It was about a hallucination I had had while in ICU.
Mother Christmas was there, she was tucking me up in a patchwork quilt on the sofa so I could see the christmas lights on the tree.
She asked me what I wanted most.
And I replied that I wanted to have one last real Christmas with my family.
To tell them all what they mean to me.
Well I got that chance. And though I doubt I have told my family what they mean to me enough.
I have done it to a degree.
And I still have time to do more.
I hope they know that I love them and appreciate them all.
My family, my friends, my friends who I consider family.
Everyone who has influenced my life in some way.
My thanks go out to all of them.
Mentally, I am getting better.
I just have to keep fighting a little longer to fix the physical.
This is going to be a good thing.
And who knows where I go to from here.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Remember me?
..Because its to long since i posted. oops.
I guess I have been neglecting this blog lately but especially this week. (sorry about that) and I still havnt made a full post about london.
I dont know, I just feel at the moment like I am existing rather than living. Does that make sense?
I think back and I can remember times when I would just go out for the sake of it, or work on something or other be it computer games, photography of developing projects and sites. But lately, I seem to dig my heels in where I can to avoid going out. Everything is just too much effort, getting dressed, getting washed, generally just doing things that should be habbit.
Once I am out of the house, I am fine and most of the time cope fine with the being out. But once it hits heading back time, exhaustion kicks in, I struggle and battle to stay awake till I get home and then till a time when I can get to sleep. For the next day or two, I feel like I have not slept for a week.
For example, one day last week, I slept through the night prob 10-11 hours. Got up, went out for an hour. Came back and fell asleep for a further 3 hours. Was awake for about 3 hours just sitting around and went to bed and fell straight asleep again. 14 hours of sleep in 24 hours can not be normal can it.
The time I am awake however, is not wasted.
I do some (well a fair amount) of voluntary work on a website. At the moment, everybody on the site seems to be struggling with one thing or another and unable to put much into it. The site still has to run, so I have spent as much time as I have been able to manage trying to keep on top of things there. I dont mind doing this, but its one of those things when you have something planned to do before you go to bed and you sit down and get an email, you think oh this will only take a couple of minutes to do so you log on and sort it out. But then you get bogged down and 4 hours later at stupid o'clock you decide enough is enough and go to bed, leaving the original plan untouched.
I need to start setting some boundaries and time management stuff.
I did eventually decide to keep all my entries in the one journal. Well most of them, there are a very rare few that I dont want anyone to read yet and so they are stored on a different site with no link to me hehe. I also have my other place to get stuff out. Its generally not read by many, but there are a few that do read it and im ok with that. Its not in a place where just anyone can find, which i think gives me a bit more ability to ramble and not be coherent (not that I ever am) I can just jot down random things that might not make sense. But here, feels kinda more like good quality paper.
When I was young, I used to get bought writing sets and stickers. I always refused to use them as they were to pretty and I didnt want to spoil them. Of course they just sat there until they were thrown out one day and so ended up wasted anyway. But this feels more like that. I dont want to waste this space. I want it to make sense and be a logical record of things. I want fully formed thoughts in here, not half hearted ones.
Blah, enough ramble about that.
So the real reason for the title.
Tonight I went to see the film remember me.
Im not entirely sure what I was expecting, but the film was good, if a little predictable at points. There were fun parts and sad parts and I related somewhat to most of it. The sex scenes where a little drawn out for my liking, and Robert Pattinson was a little too withdrawn, but then films are dramatic.
Emilie de Ravin, better known for her role in Lost and the hills have eyes, played a good part. Her character was the right level of funny and brooding and I liked her philosophy on always eating desert first as anything could happen and she wants to know that she didnt deny herself what she wanted most.
There were a few bits that struck a nerve so to speak.
Just shows how different each life is, depending on your focus and time.
This one, kind of reminded me of my family and how I felt for so long about my parents. It still happens at times now, but I am better at dealing with it. But it does get hard, when im trying to talk, and mum knows how hard it is for me to talk and yet she starts talking over the top of me about something completely differnt, or finishing off what im saying. But more than that, about what I have wanted from life or what I have needed to get by. Self harm became my way of communicating for a long time, except no one ever saw. I think it was more a communication with myself.
But the bit that stuck with me most was this:
It is true. People leave a lasting impression. People who I have not heard from in years, or people I dont know very well, still affect my life and the way in which I deal with things. Its actully pretty amazing the effect one person can have on the other. But its pretty lame when it is abused also. But at this point, im not going to get sentimental.
I enjoyed the movie and when it comes out on dvd, I will more than likely get it as I wouldnt mind re-watching it.
I guess I have been neglecting this blog lately but especially this week. (sorry about that) and I still havnt made a full post about london.
I dont know, I just feel at the moment like I am existing rather than living. Does that make sense?
I think back and I can remember times when I would just go out for the sake of it, or work on something or other be it computer games, photography of developing projects and sites. But lately, I seem to dig my heels in where I can to avoid going out. Everything is just too much effort, getting dressed, getting washed, generally just doing things that should be habbit.
Once I am out of the house, I am fine and most of the time cope fine with the being out. But once it hits heading back time, exhaustion kicks in, I struggle and battle to stay awake till I get home and then till a time when I can get to sleep. For the next day or two, I feel like I have not slept for a week.
For example, one day last week, I slept through the night prob 10-11 hours. Got up, went out for an hour. Came back and fell asleep for a further 3 hours. Was awake for about 3 hours just sitting around and went to bed and fell straight asleep again. 14 hours of sleep in 24 hours can not be normal can it.
The time I am awake however, is not wasted.
I do some (well a fair amount) of voluntary work on a website. At the moment, everybody on the site seems to be struggling with one thing or another and unable to put much into it. The site still has to run, so I have spent as much time as I have been able to manage trying to keep on top of things there. I dont mind doing this, but its one of those things when you have something planned to do before you go to bed and you sit down and get an email, you think oh this will only take a couple of minutes to do so you log on and sort it out. But then you get bogged down and 4 hours later at stupid o'clock you decide enough is enough and go to bed, leaving the original plan untouched.
I need to start setting some boundaries and time management stuff.
I did eventually decide to keep all my entries in the one journal. Well most of them, there are a very rare few that I dont want anyone to read yet and so they are stored on a different site with no link to me hehe. I also have my other place to get stuff out. Its generally not read by many, but there are a few that do read it and im ok with that. Its not in a place where just anyone can find, which i think gives me a bit more ability to ramble and not be coherent (not that I ever am) I can just jot down random things that might not make sense. But here, feels kinda more like good quality paper.
When I was young, I used to get bought writing sets and stickers. I always refused to use them as they were to pretty and I didnt want to spoil them. Of course they just sat there until they were thrown out one day and so ended up wasted anyway. But this feels more like that. I dont want to waste this space. I want it to make sense and be a logical record of things. I want fully formed thoughts in here, not half hearted ones.
Blah, enough ramble about that.
So the real reason for the title.
Tonight I went to see the film remember me.
Im not entirely sure what I was expecting, but the film was good, if a little predictable at points. There were fun parts and sad parts and I related somewhat to most of it. The sex scenes where a little drawn out for my liking, and Robert Pattinson was a little too withdrawn, but then films are dramatic.
Emilie de Ravin, better known for her role in Lost and the hills have eyes, played a good part. Her character was the right level of funny and brooding and I liked her philosophy on always eating desert first as anything could happen and she wants to know that she didnt deny herself what she wanted most.
There were a few bits that struck a nerve so to speak.
Tyler: You know what day I'm staring at, Michael. By 22, Ghandi had 3 kids; Motzart, 37 symphonies; and Buddy Holly was dead.
Just shows how different each life is, depending on your focus and time.
You have a daughter who sincerely believes that you don't like her. She's communicating. Why aren't you listening? Why aren't you *riveted?*
This one, kind of reminded me of my family and how I felt for so long about my parents. It still happens at times now, but I am better at dealing with it. But it does get hard, when im trying to talk, and mum knows how hard it is for me to talk and yet she starts talking over the top of me about something completely differnt, or finishing off what im saying. But more than that, about what I have wanted from life or what I have needed to get by. Self harm became my way of communicating for a long time, except no one ever saw. I think it was more a communication with myself.
But the bit that stuck with me most was this:
If you could hear me, I would say that our finger prints don't fade from the lives we've touched.
It is true. People leave a lasting impression. People who I have not heard from in years, or people I dont know very well, still affect my life and the way in which I deal with things. Its actully pretty amazing the effect one person can have on the other. But its pretty lame when it is abused also. But at this point, im not going to get sentimental.
I enjoyed the movie and when it comes out on dvd, I will more than likely get it as I wouldnt mind re-watching it.
Friday, April 02, 2010
London Free Hospital
So I have been a little out of it of sorts since I got back from London. Think I was over tired and it kind of amazed me how long it took me to recover. I mean I am what, 24 and 1 day trip, where I was only really walking around from about 4pm till 9pm, so 5 hours and it took me 2 full days just to recover enough to wash my hair. When I think that it was only last July that I was down in London and going for about 5+ hours day for 3 and 4 consecutive days. I thought i was recovered yesterday, with being in a good mood, but today I can barley keep my eyes open. Went the shop with mum earlier and fell asleep in the car just driving to the shop.
Anyway, onto other things.
So whilst I was recovering I didnt want to sleep permanently (though I pretty much did) so I began making the video that I said I had the urge to make. I have done the bulk of it, just needs about another hour spent polishing it up, playing with sound levels and fixing a couple of transitions.
Tell me what you think so far please. I know it will never do Eva justice, but as I said in an earlier post, this is more for me, to remember her by so Im not even sure if it is going to go anymore public than this blog. Plus there is the whole copyright thing to think of.
My next challenge if I decide to go public with it, is to get around the filters on youtube as it keeps muting the audio. It wouldnt be such a bad thing, but it mutes all the audio, not just the music, so I lose all the voiceovers too. I either need to find different music (but im kinda attached to the stuff I have, especially the last bit) or find a way around the detector.
So seeing as I am working backwards in time pretty much, im going to put down what happened at the hospital in London. I will eventually post a second post of what I did in London, but I am still in the middle of fixing the pics I took. (No tripod and it was wet and miserable so there are not many good ones)
So we get to the hospital, and it dosnt look like a hospital, it looks more like an old fashioned shop (again look out for pics.) I saw the consultant he is supposedly the best surgeon who deals with tracheas in the UK. He had not read through the letter so he glanced down it while we were sitting in the room. Then he asked to see all my medications. He laughed when I pulled out a big bag and was a little shocked at the amount of them.
Once that was done with, came the icky part that I knew would happen but was hoping it wouldnt. He decides to put a scope down while I'm sat there. So first off he sprays my nose with the icky tasting stuff that numbs it and up goes the camera. Now I have had this done a fair few times in the past and it always feels like I am chocking on it, however it was gentler this time as he couldnt go very far down due to my trach (bonus!) I was a little disappointed still though. In my usual hospital when they put the camera down, the images are displayed on a big screen behind me, so I usually ask to be turned around before they start meaning that I get to see the screen myself. (Yes I am a fan of gore) This one however was only a little one with an eye piece.
Anyway. he basically said that my upper air way is very red and very inflamed and it shouldn't be. He therefore thinks that something must be causing the inflammation. He agreed that I should have as much gunk on my chest as I do and that it shouldnt be as thick as it is. So he thinks that something is irritating my throat, creating the inflammation and the gunk. He asked if I had had a swallow assessment (which I hadnt) as it could be something like food or drink going down the wrong way causing it.
He has asked my surgeon here to organize a video fluoroscope, which is where you have to eat and drink different things while being observed and x-rayed. He also wants to get me in for another Bronscopy with an over night stay so he can get a better look. And if the professor person I emailed is free he wants him to sit in on it.
Ultimately, further action will depend upon the outcome of those 2 tests. He did talk a little about tracheal transplant as he knew that was what I had spoken to the other surgeon about. He said if nothing else works, then the transplant will definitely work to fix it (YAY!) However, it is not yet a licensed procedure in the UK. Which means that it could be years before the can legally perform the surgery on me, but im still hopeful. He also said that the success rate is much better if I lost some weight. So thats something I am going to have to work on.
He also looked at my neck, where it has been red and sore. He said it looked like Pseudomonas which is a bacteria that is fairly resistant to treatment. He said if it was this, then the chances of treating it would be extremely rare as it is hard to get rid of given its position. The next morning the nurse swabbed it and sent it off for cultures anyway just to be sure. I do have some bactroban there, but I am reluctant to use it. The bactro ban is a cream that can help clear things like MRSA up, however if you use it to much it wont work any more, so I am only going to use it when it gets to the point of being to sore to manage with normal painkillers.
And I think thats everything. so its all a waiting game at this point. It will probably be June when I next go down to London as the surgeon is away for April and I am away during May.
Anyway, onto other things.
So whilst I was recovering I didnt want to sleep permanently (though I pretty much did) so I began making the video that I said I had the urge to make. I have done the bulk of it, just needs about another hour spent polishing it up, playing with sound levels and fixing a couple of transitions.
Tell me what you think so far please. I know it will never do Eva justice, but as I said in an earlier post, this is more for me, to remember her by so Im not even sure if it is going to go anymore public than this blog. Plus there is the whole copyright thing to think of.
My next challenge if I decide to go public with it, is to get around the filters on youtube as it keeps muting the audio. It wouldnt be such a bad thing, but it mutes all the audio, not just the music, so I lose all the voiceovers too. I either need to find different music (but im kinda attached to the stuff I have, especially the last bit) or find a way around the detector.
So seeing as I am working backwards in time pretty much, im going to put down what happened at the hospital in London. I will eventually post a second post of what I did in London, but I am still in the middle of fixing the pics I took. (No tripod and it was wet and miserable so there are not many good ones)
So we get to the hospital, and it dosnt look like a hospital, it looks more like an old fashioned shop (again look out for pics.) I saw the consultant he is supposedly the best surgeon who deals with tracheas in the UK. He had not read through the letter so he glanced down it while we were sitting in the room. Then he asked to see all my medications. He laughed when I pulled out a big bag and was a little shocked at the amount of them.
Once that was done with, came the icky part that I knew would happen but was hoping it wouldnt. He decides to put a scope down while I'm sat there. So first off he sprays my nose with the icky tasting stuff that numbs it and up goes the camera. Now I have had this done a fair few times in the past and it always feels like I am chocking on it, however it was gentler this time as he couldnt go very far down due to my trach (bonus!) I was a little disappointed still though. In my usual hospital when they put the camera down, the images are displayed on a big screen behind me, so I usually ask to be turned around before they start meaning that I get to see the screen myself. (Yes I am a fan of gore) This one however was only a little one with an eye piece.
Anyway. he basically said that my upper air way is very red and very inflamed and it shouldn't be. He therefore thinks that something must be causing the inflammation. He agreed that I should have as much gunk on my chest as I do and that it shouldnt be as thick as it is. So he thinks that something is irritating my throat, creating the inflammation and the gunk. He asked if I had had a swallow assessment (which I hadnt) as it could be something like food or drink going down the wrong way causing it.
He has asked my surgeon here to organize a video fluoroscope, which is where you have to eat and drink different things while being observed and x-rayed. He also wants to get me in for another Bronscopy with an over night stay so he can get a better look. And if the professor person I emailed is free he wants him to sit in on it.
Ultimately, further action will depend upon the outcome of those 2 tests. He did talk a little about tracheal transplant as he knew that was what I had spoken to the other surgeon about. He said if nothing else works, then the transplant will definitely work to fix it (YAY!) However, it is not yet a licensed procedure in the UK. Which means that it could be years before the can legally perform the surgery on me, but im still hopeful. He also said that the success rate is much better if I lost some weight. So thats something I am going to have to work on.
He also looked at my neck, where it has been red and sore. He said it looked like Pseudomonas which is a bacteria that is fairly resistant to treatment. He said if it was this, then the chances of treating it would be extremely rare as it is hard to get rid of given its position. The next morning the nurse swabbed it and sent it off for cultures anyway just to be sure. I do have some bactroban there, but I am reluctant to use it. The bactro ban is a cream that can help clear things like MRSA up, however if you use it to much it wont work any more, so I am only going to use it when it gets to the point of being to sore to manage with normal painkillers.
And I think thats everything. so its all a waiting game at this point. It will probably be June when I next go down to London as the surgeon is away for April and I am away during May.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Its been a while
opps So I just relised that I have not updated in like 9 days.
Its been busy and very tiring.
I have mostly been spending the night on the ward, going to physio/gym first thing in the morning (which is a killer on its own as I have to be up, showered, dressed, medicated and had my breakfast all by 9:30 and I really am not a morning person) Then I have been mostly going home after dinner which is when people have coming out to the house for assessments such as fitting a panic alarm and such. And when the afternoon is free, generally being dragged out shopping 'to give me some fresh air'. Back to the ward about 7 and trying to fit in some wii when i feel upto it as more physio.
Then Friday was my birthday. The nurses woke me up mega early to sing to me and give me a present. They bought me some lovely pjs with like a hooded top to go over them and slipper socks. Was really nice of them. Then my parents took me out at dinner time. We went to a new buffet place in town called red hot, it was really yummy and I cant wait to go back again! Then when I got home my sister and her kids visited and then after that my friend. So it was a very long day and I was absolutely shattered. So much so that I felt really rough and flu like all day saturday and most of sunday.
I have spent the last couple of nights drafting up a email to one of the surgeons who was on the news last week after successfully managing a tracheal transplant. One of these would turn my life around! It would get rid of the trach, it would sort my voice and upper airway out and hopefully fix my breathing. And with it being your own tissue should mean that I would get less crap and junk on my chest so limit the meds/treatments/cleaning and infections from it. But it is a very long way off from becoming a standard procedure. My current surgeon says that it wont happen in his lifetime as a surgeon so where talking 20+ years. So I thought by emailing this guy, I might just get my name in early hehe. Although im not getting any hopes up and doubt that I will even get a reply off him. But it was worth an email.
Today I had surgery again. They basically did the same op that they performed on the 23 December. He says what he has done will not last and it will collapse again pretty soon and to be honest I think it already has. Apparently he removed a lot of thick fibrous tissue, more than he was expecting too. But he dosnt know what to do next. He seems to want to get my trachy out and restore my airway, but my other surgeon who has been trying all kinds of different things, wants to restore my voice and get me home to recover. I dont know who to put my faith in.
Todays surgeon claims he knows someone with an intrest in tracheal reconstruction and is going to talk to him and see where to go to next, but my other surgeon said there is too much damage for reconstruction. urgh I just feel like I am going around in circles and not getting very far. Maybe I will just let them fight it out.
Or at least give it a few days as coming around from todays surgery was very very off putting. I was in so much pain I was practically crying (If you know me you will know this is rare) The pain meds they were giving me where making me want to throw up and i was shivering and shaking so violently they asked me if I had an history of epilepsy. Overal not nice. Then I spent the rest of the afternoon sleeping, even refussing drinks right after surgery, which again is odd for me as I usually drink gallows, especially when I first come around.
So maybe more sleep pretty soon I think. And review when im feeling a little bit better after today.
Its been busy and very tiring.
I have mostly been spending the night on the ward, going to physio/gym first thing in the morning (which is a killer on its own as I have to be up, showered, dressed, medicated and had my breakfast all by 9:30 and I really am not a morning person) Then I have been mostly going home after dinner which is when people have coming out to the house for assessments such as fitting a panic alarm and such. And when the afternoon is free, generally being dragged out shopping 'to give me some fresh air'. Back to the ward about 7 and trying to fit in some wii when i feel upto it as more physio.
Then Friday was my birthday. The nurses woke me up mega early to sing to me and give me a present. They bought me some lovely pjs with like a hooded top to go over them and slipper socks. Was really nice of them. Then my parents took me out at dinner time. We went to a new buffet place in town called red hot, it was really yummy and I cant wait to go back again! Then when I got home my sister and her kids visited and then after that my friend. So it was a very long day and I was absolutely shattered. So much so that I felt really rough and flu like all day saturday and most of sunday.
I have spent the last couple of nights drafting up a email to one of the surgeons who was on the news last week after successfully managing a tracheal transplant. One of these would turn my life around! It would get rid of the trach, it would sort my voice and upper airway out and hopefully fix my breathing. And with it being your own tissue should mean that I would get less crap and junk on my chest so limit the meds/treatments/cleaning and infections from it. But it is a very long way off from becoming a standard procedure. My current surgeon says that it wont happen in his lifetime as a surgeon so where talking 20+ years. So I thought by emailing this guy, I might just get my name in early hehe. Although im not getting any hopes up and doubt that I will even get a reply off him. But it was worth an email.
Today I had surgery again. They basically did the same op that they performed on the 23 December. He says what he has done will not last and it will collapse again pretty soon and to be honest I think it already has. Apparently he removed a lot of thick fibrous tissue, more than he was expecting too. But he dosnt know what to do next. He seems to want to get my trachy out and restore my airway, but my other surgeon who has been trying all kinds of different things, wants to restore my voice and get me home to recover. I dont know who to put my faith in.
Todays surgeon claims he knows someone with an intrest in tracheal reconstruction and is going to talk to him and see where to go to next, but my other surgeon said there is too much damage for reconstruction. urgh I just feel like I am going around in circles and not getting very far. Maybe I will just let them fight it out.
Or at least give it a few days as coming around from todays surgery was very very off putting. I was in so much pain I was practically crying (If you know me you will know this is rare) The pain meds they were giving me where making me want to throw up and i was shivering and shaking so violently they asked me if I had an history of epilepsy. Overal not nice. Then I spent the rest of the afternoon sleeping, even refussing drinks right after surgery, which again is odd for me as I usually drink gallows, especially when I first come around.
So maybe more sleep pretty soon I think. And review when im feeling a little bit better after today.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Brief history of time [Part 2]
So I ended up back home where I hated being. Things were ok for the first 2 weeks or so.
I decided seeing as I was home I should make the most of things and so with my GCSE results, I headed back to college. The one I went to, I was amazed that I got in, it was classed as the best one in the North West and in my true style, I took on as much as I could in one go. So the first week in September (Two weeks exactly after getting home) I started studying AS level Maths, higher Maths, Physics, English combined and technology and then took on an evening course studying computers.
This was all very well, It meant I had to be in college for 8am and most evenings finished at about 6. At a push Im sure once I got into routine I probably could have managed this, but of course you then have to take into account that it took about 80 minutes in each direction to get into college and 2 buses. Again, cope able with as long as the buses were on time and I had a smooth transfer between them. Of course the first bus I had to get from college was one of the most popular, so the days I got out at the same time as everyone else, you have to add a 20 minute walk on to get to a further away bus stop or else wait about an hour in a queue for a bus with room on it. Add to that the mounds of homework and I think I was bound to fail from the start.
What was more, because of the area the college was in, the students were alot more 'upper class' than me, generally had more money and mostly knew each other from their past schools. I stopped sleeping again, at most getting about 3 hours a night. Going into college and living on energy drinks, caffeine tablets and chocolate.
Of an evening I was regularly 'bunking' on the train as I had no money to go visit Kieran over the water. (The lad I had back at my flat) and by the second week in college, I started leaving after first lesson too go visit him too. most of the time just going back to one of his friends house (he didnt have a place of his own) and either watching tv or making out.
The week after that my parents went on holiday. Kieran pretty much came and lived in my house. Ha my mum had asked my sister Tracey to keep an eye on me while they were away. She came in at about 9 one morning and found us in bed together. She was not best happy at all and kicked him out. Of course I screamed at her and as soon as she left he was back anyway. But that was the end of talking to my sister or even escaping to her house. She worked in the same school that a lot of my friends had gone to and kept quizzing them over me, which of course I took as an invasion of privacy and so things between us got worse an worse.
My parents got back from holiday and things resumed back to normal. Mum and I argued and refused to speak to each other. She would tell me I was grounded except for college, so I would leave for college in the morning and not come back till about 11 at night. She would yell at me again, I would go to bed and get up the next morning and do exactly the same thing.
One day, Kieran introduced me to his friend Dave. Dave was a bit older (26, I was 16 at the time.) He had just gotten out of prison, he said for stealing a car and holding a post office up. Well who was I too judge, the person I was closets to (my brother) had recently gotten out for something similar.
A couple of days later, I had gone around to Daves, thinking i was going to meet Kieran there as had become normal that week. When I got there Kieran was no where to be found and his phone was off. Then Dave told me that he had gotten back together with his ex. Just what I needed. So rather than do the sensible thing of going home, I spent the day drinking flat cider with Dave and playing playstation. It came to being time to go home, I knew I had to leave as the last train was in 15 minutes and it was a 10 minute walk to the station, but I just could not be bothered moving. I asked Dave if he minded if I slept on the couch that night and he said no, so i turned my phone off and didnt bother going home.
That night Dave gave me the bed while he slept in the chair. A true gentleman I thought. But the next day I still didnt feel like going home. So I decided to move out. Dave said I could stay at his till I got a job and my own place sorted and that he would help me with it all. So I put my phone on and text my dad. Told him I was fine and not to worry about me and that I would not be coming home but would ring and make some arrangements to come pick my stuff up at some point, then turned my phone back off.
Over the next few days I managed to sort out a job interview and from that a job working for a catalogue company taking customer orders over the phone. Next to sort out was a place to stay, unfortunately, I kept coming to dead ends. Nobody wanted to rent to a 16 year old in a new job. Dave said to just stay in his as he didnt mind and liked the company. I said it was stupid that there was a double bed and he was sleeping on the sofa so he might as well share the bed and such.
We started drinking... a lot. He got me into weed and I got him in to Ecstasy. Pretty soon we were spending more time wrecked than we were not wrecked. I was even going in to work still off my head with no sleep. A lot went on in that few weeks. While off my face, I went after Kieran with a knife, I met his girlfirend, who was lovley and who hid in our bedroom one day when Kieran knocked and tried to talk me into getting back with him, while he was still going out with her. I met Peter. He lived downstairs and quickly became friends with us. He had a daughter somewhere, and spent most the day off his head on coke and most the night sleeping on his sofa. He was kind and sweet and often ran errands for us. When we were too off our heads to roll up the weed, we used to knock on his door (usually about 4am) and he would roll for us and share it with us. And of course, im sure you saw it coming but I ended up sleeping with Dave, which became a regular thing. Dave one day went to my parents with me so I could pick up my stuff, which wasnt really fun.
After a few weeks the novelty soon began to wear off though. Where I used to think Dave was being nice walking me to work and back, I noticed that he hardly ever let me out of his sight and I began to feel crowded. One day I was texting a male work friend. There was nothing to it, we were merely chatting about work but Dave demanded to see the messages, me being stubborn refused to show him. That might my phone managed to get smashed against the wall, a lot of furniture got thrown around and a table went through the window.
Alarm bells were ringing, but I had no where else to go so the next day Dave apologized profusely and things went back to normal. Until one night we had an argument over something stupid. I refused to go to bed with him that night and instead sat on the sofa reading. He ripped the book out my hand and knocked me across the room. Things continued to go downhill. Dave locked me in the flat a few times and other such fun things. He was a self harmer and if he didnt get his own way or we argued, he often took out a blade and would make me watch while he slit his arms open, telling me it was my fault and it was because he loved me so much. It wasn't merely small wounds either, they would often require stitches and would leave a terrible mess on the floor, sheets, clothes whatever. I knew I had to get out.
I told Dave I was working a long shift so needed to be in work early, but I had arranged to meet Peter. He said he would go with me to get some legal advice and such and see if I could find a way of getting my own place. Something set Dave off that morning walking me in. He ended up pinning me up against the wall and punching me in the stomach a few times. Some passerby dragged him off and I ran to work. 20 mins later came out of hiding from the bathroom and went to meet Peter. The place made an appointment for me to go back in a couple of days while they researched the info for me.
I went into work for my afternoon shift but could not stop shaking and crying so they sent me home early. I went to Peters rather than home. Dave kept calling me all day, I ignored his calls. When the time came that I had to head back, I couldnt face it. Peter said to stay in his and get rid of dave so I did. And went to work the next day, though I had altered my shifts to make sure Dave didnt know when I was in and security were told about the situation incase he turned up.
Halfway though my shift, Peter phoned, said Dave had come down to his and pretty much collapsed on the floor with his arms a bloody mess. Peter had called an ambulance and made him go to hospital for stitches where he had needed over a hundred. He said Dave just wanted to talk and that if i was willing we could meet in a public place or in peters and he would stay to make sure nothing happened. Me feeling guilty agreed and so we meet in peters flat that night.
Dave tried to get me to go back but I refused, he got angry, he got sad and then he gave up, or so i thought. Said I should come get my stuff from his place and implied that he wouldnt be around tomorrow or again after that night. Again Peter agreed to help me and so I started shifting my stuff. What I found out later was that As I was putting stuff in the lift to go to peters flat, dave was taking it back out and hiding it. Daves flat was a mess. It looked like a murder scene, all the windows had been put through, most the furniture was lying around broke, there was blood everywhere and the smell of it was disgusting. Just incase, while taking all my stuff out, I removed every sharp object I could find from Daves. All the knives, razors and scissors I packed up and sent them down to peters too. After all it was me who had made him cut the last few weeks so I didnt want it on my conscious if he killed himself.
Peter got called away right at the last minute, I said he could go as Dave had been behaving and I only had the last few bits to get. I just assumed Dave had given up and was wallowing. He had locked himself in the bedroom which was fine by me. I went into the living room to get the last of the stuff and then I heard a loud band and a click. There by the front door stood Dave with the keys in his hands and a grin on his face. He had taken all the bandages off his arms so all his stitches were on display. I knew this would not end good.
He came into the living room, begging me to spend just one last night with him. I of course refused. I shouted at him to let me go. He just stood there calm as anything. I began shouting for help, I hoped that the windows being broke the neighbors would hear me. He obviously had the same idea and so he grabbed me, and put his arm around my neck and pulled tight. I was gasping for air. I tried to kick him, I tried to scream, I tried to escape, all with no luck. I awoke a few mins later on the floor.
Once again, i tried to get to the door and scream, once again the arm went round my neck till I passed out. The third time he did it, I tried to out smart him. I thought perhaps if i faked passing out quicker he would let go quicker so i just went limp and stopped moving. He didnt let go. I woke a while later. I could tell it had been longer than the last two times, the room was darker and Dave was sitting on the other side of the room crying. I dont think I will ever forget that night or the feel of his arm around my neck. The feeling of the stitches rubbing and irritating my neck, the gasping feeling, believing it was the end.
Through the night he kept telling me how easy it would be to kill me, how he could do it now and then finish himself off to. How it would be the perfect ending. How it would prove his love. How if he couldnt have me he would make sure that no one else could either. I sat on the sofa feeling rather dazed. I remember giving up at one point and telling him to just kill me and get it over and done with.
He made me lie down on the sofa while he sat on the chair. Kept saying if i just spent one more night with him he would let me go in the morning instead of killing me. I kept refusing. We sat in silence for a long time. After a while he fell asleep. I got up quietly as i could and tried to get to the phone. I dont know who i would have called as im sure he would have woken up at the sound of the phone.
Turns out he did wake up as i was getting across the room. He dragged me back to the sofa and decided that he would lie on the sofa with me so he would feel if i moved. He fell asleep on my shoulder. It was one long night. I watched the through the small window as the sun came up over the skyline. It was so cold, the flat smelt so strongly, that rusty blood smell and the dawn seemed to take forever to come. I lay there not daring to move, trembling and crying. I truly believed that I wasnt going to get out of there alive.
He awoke about 6 and tried to cuddle me. I didnt move.
I eventually plucked up the courage to say well I spent the night with you now can I go. To which he laughed. He moved the goal post. He said if I slept with him one last time then he would let me go. I knew there was no end to this. After a few more threats to kill me, I eventually just said do what you want. So he did. He took me right there in that smelly cold room while i lay there not moving, tears running down my face.
He must have been aroused by it all, it didnt take him long, maybe 3 or 4 goes. When he was done he just lay there still in me and laughed, flashing those manky teeth. I just looked at him. He said after all that it was harldy worth it was it. He withdrew and went and got washed and changed.
When he came back I asked him if I could go now. He told me I had to go change my top (my current one was covered in snot an wet from tears) and that I had to clean myself up, wash my face, brush my hair and teeth and such. He wanted me to get a bath but I wouldnt.
Once i had done as he asked I asked if i could go, he shrugged. I begged. I promised him I would not say a word to anyone ever about that night. Told him I didnt want anyone to know so wasnt going to tell anyone. That I would get back with him, but that I needed a few days to sort my head out. That I wanted to go stay with a friend for a short while and then i would come back and live with him again. He eventually agreed to let me go and said he would walk me to the train station.
We got downstairs in the flats and he suddenly decided that he had to give me his mobile so he could get in touch with me and so he made me walk back up to the flat. I didnt think he would let me go again, i thought here we go again. But he got the phone and walked me to the train station, bought me a ticket and waited on the platform with me. It was still early and the place was dead. He put his arms around me, trying to cuddle me. I just stood there.
As the train came, he said on second thoughts, better give me that phone I need it and he took it back as I got onto the train.
I decided seeing as I was home I should make the most of things and so with my GCSE results, I headed back to college. The one I went to, I was amazed that I got in, it was classed as the best one in the North West and in my true style, I took on as much as I could in one go. So the first week in September (Two weeks exactly after getting home) I started studying AS level Maths, higher Maths, Physics, English combined and technology and then took on an evening course studying computers.
This was all very well, It meant I had to be in college for 8am and most evenings finished at about 6. At a push Im sure once I got into routine I probably could have managed this, but of course you then have to take into account that it took about 80 minutes in each direction to get into college and 2 buses. Again, cope able with as long as the buses were on time and I had a smooth transfer between them. Of course the first bus I had to get from college was one of the most popular, so the days I got out at the same time as everyone else, you have to add a 20 minute walk on to get to a further away bus stop or else wait about an hour in a queue for a bus with room on it. Add to that the mounds of homework and I think I was bound to fail from the start.
What was more, because of the area the college was in, the students were alot more 'upper class' than me, generally had more money and mostly knew each other from their past schools. I stopped sleeping again, at most getting about 3 hours a night. Going into college and living on energy drinks, caffeine tablets and chocolate.
Of an evening I was regularly 'bunking' on the train as I had no money to go visit Kieran over the water. (The lad I had back at my flat) and by the second week in college, I started leaving after first lesson too go visit him too. most of the time just going back to one of his friends house (he didnt have a place of his own) and either watching tv or making out.
The week after that my parents went on holiday. Kieran pretty much came and lived in my house. Ha my mum had asked my sister Tracey to keep an eye on me while they were away. She came in at about 9 one morning and found us in bed together. She was not best happy at all and kicked him out. Of course I screamed at her and as soon as she left he was back anyway. But that was the end of talking to my sister or even escaping to her house. She worked in the same school that a lot of my friends had gone to and kept quizzing them over me, which of course I took as an invasion of privacy and so things between us got worse an worse.
My parents got back from holiday and things resumed back to normal. Mum and I argued and refused to speak to each other. She would tell me I was grounded except for college, so I would leave for college in the morning and not come back till about 11 at night. She would yell at me again, I would go to bed and get up the next morning and do exactly the same thing.
One day, Kieran introduced me to his friend Dave. Dave was a bit older (26, I was 16 at the time.) He had just gotten out of prison, he said for stealing a car and holding a post office up. Well who was I too judge, the person I was closets to (my brother) had recently gotten out for something similar.
A couple of days later, I had gone around to Daves, thinking i was going to meet Kieran there as had become normal that week. When I got there Kieran was no where to be found and his phone was off. Then Dave told me that he had gotten back together with his ex. Just what I needed. So rather than do the sensible thing of going home, I spent the day drinking flat cider with Dave and playing playstation. It came to being time to go home, I knew I had to leave as the last train was in 15 minutes and it was a 10 minute walk to the station, but I just could not be bothered moving. I asked Dave if he minded if I slept on the couch that night and he said no, so i turned my phone off and didnt bother going home.
That night Dave gave me the bed while he slept in the chair. A true gentleman I thought. But the next day I still didnt feel like going home. So I decided to move out. Dave said I could stay at his till I got a job and my own place sorted and that he would help me with it all. So I put my phone on and text my dad. Told him I was fine and not to worry about me and that I would not be coming home but would ring and make some arrangements to come pick my stuff up at some point, then turned my phone back off.
Over the next few days I managed to sort out a job interview and from that a job working for a catalogue company taking customer orders over the phone. Next to sort out was a place to stay, unfortunately, I kept coming to dead ends. Nobody wanted to rent to a 16 year old in a new job. Dave said to just stay in his as he didnt mind and liked the company. I said it was stupid that there was a double bed and he was sleeping on the sofa so he might as well share the bed and such.
We started drinking... a lot. He got me into weed and I got him in to Ecstasy. Pretty soon we were spending more time wrecked than we were not wrecked. I was even going in to work still off my head with no sleep. A lot went on in that few weeks. While off my face, I went after Kieran with a knife, I met his girlfirend, who was lovley and who hid in our bedroom one day when Kieran knocked and tried to talk me into getting back with him, while he was still going out with her. I met Peter. He lived downstairs and quickly became friends with us. He had a daughter somewhere, and spent most the day off his head on coke and most the night sleeping on his sofa. He was kind and sweet and often ran errands for us. When we were too off our heads to roll up the weed, we used to knock on his door (usually about 4am) and he would roll for us and share it with us. And of course, im sure you saw it coming but I ended up sleeping with Dave, which became a regular thing. Dave one day went to my parents with me so I could pick up my stuff, which wasnt really fun.
After a few weeks the novelty soon began to wear off though. Where I used to think Dave was being nice walking me to work and back, I noticed that he hardly ever let me out of his sight and I began to feel crowded. One day I was texting a male work friend. There was nothing to it, we were merely chatting about work but Dave demanded to see the messages, me being stubborn refused to show him. That might my phone managed to get smashed against the wall, a lot of furniture got thrown around and a table went through the window.
Alarm bells were ringing, but I had no where else to go so the next day Dave apologized profusely and things went back to normal. Until one night we had an argument over something stupid. I refused to go to bed with him that night and instead sat on the sofa reading. He ripped the book out my hand and knocked me across the room. Things continued to go downhill. Dave locked me in the flat a few times and other such fun things. He was a self harmer and if he didnt get his own way or we argued, he often took out a blade and would make me watch while he slit his arms open, telling me it was my fault and it was because he loved me so much. It wasn't merely small wounds either, they would often require stitches and would leave a terrible mess on the floor, sheets, clothes whatever. I knew I had to get out.
I told Dave I was working a long shift so needed to be in work early, but I had arranged to meet Peter. He said he would go with me to get some legal advice and such and see if I could find a way of getting my own place. Something set Dave off that morning walking me in. He ended up pinning me up against the wall and punching me in the stomach a few times. Some passerby dragged him off and I ran to work. 20 mins later came out of hiding from the bathroom and went to meet Peter. The place made an appointment for me to go back in a couple of days while they researched the info for me.
I went into work for my afternoon shift but could not stop shaking and crying so they sent me home early. I went to Peters rather than home. Dave kept calling me all day, I ignored his calls. When the time came that I had to head back, I couldnt face it. Peter said to stay in his and get rid of dave so I did. And went to work the next day, though I had altered my shifts to make sure Dave didnt know when I was in and security were told about the situation incase he turned up.
Halfway though my shift, Peter phoned, said Dave had come down to his and pretty much collapsed on the floor with his arms a bloody mess. Peter had called an ambulance and made him go to hospital for stitches where he had needed over a hundred. He said Dave just wanted to talk and that if i was willing we could meet in a public place or in peters and he would stay to make sure nothing happened. Me feeling guilty agreed and so we meet in peters flat that night.
Dave tried to get me to go back but I refused, he got angry, he got sad and then he gave up, or so i thought. Said I should come get my stuff from his place and implied that he wouldnt be around tomorrow or again after that night. Again Peter agreed to help me and so I started shifting my stuff. What I found out later was that As I was putting stuff in the lift to go to peters flat, dave was taking it back out and hiding it. Daves flat was a mess. It looked like a murder scene, all the windows had been put through, most the furniture was lying around broke, there was blood everywhere and the smell of it was disgusting. Just incase, while taking all my stuff out, I removed every sharp object I could find from Daves. All the knives, razors and scissors I packed up and sent them down to peters too. After all it was me who had made him cut the last few weeks so I didnt want it on my conscious if he killed himself.
Peter got called away right at the last minute, I said he could go as Dave had been behaving and I only had the last few bits to get. I just assumed Dave had given up and was wallowing. He had locked himself in the bedroom which was fine by me. I went into the living room to get the last of the stuff and then I heard a loud band and a click. There by the front door stood Dave with the keys in his hands and a grin on his face. He had taken all the bandages off his arms so all his stitches were on display. I knew this would not end good.
He came into the living room, begging me to spend just one last night with him. I of course refused. I shouted at him to let me go. He just stood there calm as anything. I began shouting for help, I hoped that the windows being broke the neighbors would hear me. He obviously had the same idea and so he grabbed me, and put his arm around my neck and pulled tight. I was gasping for air. I tried to kick him, I tried to scream, I tried to escape, all with no luck. I awoke a few mins later on the floor.
Once again, i tried to get to the door and scream, once again the arm went round my neck till I passed out. The third time he did it, I tried to out smart him. I thought perhaps if i faked passing out quicker he would let go quicker so i just went limp and stopped moving. He didnt let go. I woke a while later. I could tell it had been longer than the last two times, the room was darker and Dave was sitting on the other side of the room crying. I dont think I will ever forget that night or the feel of his arm around my neck. The feeling of the stitches rubbing and irritating my neck, the gasping feeling, believing it was the end.
Through the night he kept telling me how easy it would be to kill me, how he could do it now and then finish himself off to. How it would be the perfect ending. How it would prove his love. How if he couldnt have me he would make sure that no one else could either. I sat on the sofa feeling rather dazed. I remember giving up at one point and telling him to just kill me and get it over and done with.
He made me lie down on the sofa while he sat on the chair. Kept saying if i just spent one more night with him he would let me go in the morning instead of killing me. I kept refusing. We sat in silence for a long time. After a while he fell asleep. I got up quietly as i could and tried to get to the phone. I dont know who i would have called as im sure he would have woken up at the sound of the phone.
Turns out he did wake up as i was getting across the room. He dragged me back to the sofa and decided that he would lie on the sofa with me so he would feel if i moved. He fell asleep on my shoulder. It was one long night. I watched the through the small window as the sun came up over the skyline. It was so cold, the flat smelt so strongly, that rusty blood smell and the dawn seemed to take forever to come. I lay there not daring to move, trembling and crying. I truly believed that I wasnt going to get out of there alive.
He awoke about 6 and tried to cuddle me. I didnt move.
I eventually plucked up the courage to say well I spent the night with you now can I go. To which he laughed. He moved the goal post. He said if I slept with him one last time then he would let me go. I knew there was no end to this. After a few more threats to kill me, I eventually just said do what you want. So he did. He took me right there in that smelly cold room while i lay there not moving, tears running down my face.
He must have been aroused by it all, it didnt take him long, maybe 3 or 4 goes. When he was done he just lay there still in me and laughed, flashing those manky teeth. I just looked at him. He said after all that it was harldy worth it was it. He withdrew and went and got washed and changed.
When he came back I asked him if I could go now. He told me I had to go change my top (my current one was covered in snot an wet from tears) and that I had to clean myself up, wash my face, brush my hair and teeth and such. He wanted me to get a bath but I wouldnt.
Once i had done as he asked I asked if i could go, he shrugged. I begged. I promised him I would not say a word to anyone ever about that night. Told him I didnt want anyone to know so wasnt going to tell anyone. That I would get back with him, but that I needed a few days to sort my head out. That I wanted to go stay with a friend for a short while and then i would come back and live with him again. He eventually agreed to let me go and said he would walk me to the train station.
We got downstairs in the flats and he suddenly decided that he had to give me his mobile so he could get in touch with me and so he made me walk back up to the flat. I didnt think he would let me go again, i thought here we go again. But he got the phone and walked me to the train station, bought me a ticket and waited on the platform with me. It was still early and the place was dead. He put his arms around me, trying to cuddle me. I just stood there.
As the train came, he said on second thoughts, better give me that phone I need it and he took it back as I got onto the train.
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