If you were to pick him and shake him he would probably sound like a baby rattle.
I would rather he sounded like a money box, but there you go.
I received a text yesterday lunchtime. “I’m not going to panic or worry, but I have a really bad pain in my lower leg” (paraphrased) … Being the dutiful wife with no timetable, I rang him back and prodded him into making the decision that only he could make; to go to the Emergency Care Centre at the local hospital. He was recently diagnosed with Nephrotic Syndrome, and a possible complication of it is DVT. Due to his being in hospital earlier in the year with both pneumonia and a pulmonary embolism (funnily enough he saw the consultant on Wednesday and was given the all-clear *sigh*) it’s best that we don’t take any chances (even though he’s on medication to thin his blood) …
So, we toddled off to the hospital. The consultant threw a lot of questions in his direction, the nurse took three vials of blood (he’s given so much blood over the last twelve months it’s a wonder he has any left), and we were asked to wait in the waiting room for the results. Those pesky lab folk weren’t on the ball and we had to sit and wait for three hours. Tsk.
It wasn’t too bad. I got to do a lot of people watching, which I love. It wasn’t like ER or Casualty though; there was very little drama or excitement. The Blokey admitted that in the past he’s kept things from me, bad things. You worry too much. I don’t want you to worry, he said. It doesn’t matter. I worry too much anyway. But I love him for thinking that by not telling me things he’s making my worry issues less! He’s a banana.
Today The Blokey probably sounds like a louder baby rattle.
He’s been prescribed more bloody tablets. Thankfully, these ones are only a week long course of antibiotics and the doctor is quite sure that he doesn’t have a DVT. No, instead he has an infection which has something to do with those nasty flesh-eating bacteria that tend to chomp on people. Yikes! And a look on the Internet makes me wonder if this will be something he’s likely to get again. Double Yikes! But I shouldn’t believe everything I read online …
I will spend the rest of my married days (which could quite easily be the rest of my life) worrying about my husband. I don’t mind this. I do mind watching him suffer, and I do feel his emotional pain as he keeps getting smacked down just as he feels he’s making progress. It’s horrid.
Of course, there is a positive to all this. The Blokey gets free prescriptions because of another medical issue he has … he’s the chap in front of you at the pharmacy who just has to wave an exemption card around whilst you have to pay £7.10 per prescription. Sorry about that.
please God thank you that The Blokey didn’t have to stay in the hospital again xxx Elsabeth