Dad died on the 21st March. I cannot write about it now. It has taken nearly two months for the tears to properly come and now they won't stop.
On 27th December I was in a nasty car crash. I had just dropped Mum home and was returning to Mother-in-law's house. As I was making a right turn, a taxi driver sped into the driver's side of my car. The impact was terrifying.
So much has happened since, that I have managed to forget most of the fear and upset and can now hopefully give you a quick version of events. A young lady appeared in the passenger side of my car and said she'd seen the other driver speeding in the previous village. Another lady had seen him jump the lights and drive into me and between them they swapped details. I was in pain, neck, back, shoulder, leg.
An ambulance arrived and I wasn't allowed to move. It took over three hours to cut me out of the car and take me to hospital. I was strapped to a board and put in an inflatable full body splint.
Finally after multiple xrays and some heavy pain relief I was allowed to leave in the early hours of the morning.
I have been treated for whiplash and my treatment for that and the rest of the soft tissue damage is ongoing. I am also attending counselling sessions prescribed by the NHS to try and deal with the last couple of years. The insurance company have assessed me and recommend a further 8 months of treatment and have requested a psychological examination to assess the damage the crash has done to my mental health.
I'm still driving, obviously had the fun task of finding another car. I drove over 2000 miles in 4 weeks during February and March, backwards and forwards from Dad. I still think someone is going to drive into me at junctions and I am a more nervous driver now than I was before. But compared to everything else, the crash was a minor hiccup.
The other driver has been prosecuted and has been on a safe driving course which he had to pay for.
Dad's illness and death has been all encompassing, because I don't feel ready or in the mood to write about it, it's left me very little to write about which is why it's taken me so long to get back on the keyboard. I thought today that I would just give myself an hour and see what comes.
I guess this has been a blog about my health so I will carry on with that.
I've been trucking along, not really with any time to consider how I was feeling physically. I have had periods of intense frustration at my lack of physical strength , especially my left arm and my stamina. I get tired very easily and by the time the children are in bed I'm often on my knees. I started to feel very dizzy but none of us was eating or sleeping properly so I put it down to that and the emotional stress of Dad being so unwell.
I finally went to the doctor after Dad's funeral. I couldn't ignore the fact that I felt so faint so frequently. My blood pressure is very low. This is normal for me but it's extremely low at the moment. There is probably no reason for this and there isn't really anything that can be done about it. I am trying to get as fit as I can to counteract the effects.
The doctor also took some bloods to check my iron levels. I had a call a week later on Thursday 8th May saying that my iron levels looked fine but they had incidentally found that my white blood cell (neutrophil) count was very low and could I come in immediately for another blood test.
I went in on the Friday morning and had another test. There are very few things that can effect your white blood cells, especially over periods of time as our body replaces them constantly. Drugs can do it and did for me when I was on chemo. (but I finished that over a year ago) Other than that, there's AIDS, Leukaemia or Blood Cancer. I know I don't have AIDS and tried not to worry about the other possibilities. It was a hard weekend.
On the Monday I couldn't take it any more and went to see the GP for reassurance. My results were already back from the second test and unfortunately hadn't changed. They are at 1.3 (normal range would be somewhere from 4 to 11). Under 1 is considered neutropaenic and I would have to be in hospital or at least in quarantine. The GP thinks its a side effect of my Tamoxifen and they will keep a close eye on it.
I felt elated and buzzed through the week. On Thursday I emailed my breast care nurse at Guys the good news (I'd texted her at the weekend fearing the worst). Last Friday I received an email back from her. It said that low WBC count is a very rare side effect of Tamoxifen. She is arranging an appointment with an oncologist. Another weekend of worry.
Yesterday I called her for a chat, and to chase the oncology appointment. She thinks the low WBC are as a result of the chemotherapy last year. This isn't a common occurrence but it does sometimes happen. The bone marrow gets such a hammering that it can, in rare cases take a very long time to recover. I guess this is what I'm hoping for.
So I suppose I'm a bit in limbo. I'm hoping the appointment will come through quickly but it can take time. I think next Wednesday would be the first possible time so fingers crossed it will be then. In the mean time I'll carry on painting the house and trying not to worry. (and thinking of fun, positive and optimistic things to write about in my blog!)
