I'm still undiagnosed, a mystery to modern medicine. I do still expect to be fit and well again at some point, I just have no idea when. From a distance, I look mostly fine I guess, a bit overweight and slow perhaps but if you don't know me, you'd probably assume that I'm fit and healthy. Get closer however, and you'll hear my laboured breathing. I get fluid where there is not supposed to be fluid, on my lungs, around my heart, in my stomach and down my legs, it comes and goes but seems to really stick around my right lung, hence my breathing difficulties. It took me an hour or so to get my breath back from having a shower this afternoon. Sometimes I struggle just to get out of bed. I've had countless tests for everything imaginable, some very painful, some just uncomfortable and a few that don't really bother me at all anymore. Someone took blood this morning, I barely noticed. I've been given various medicines in the hope that one of them might just work but so far nothing has had any meaningful effect, with the exception of a regular steroid dose. So, here I am, in hospital, where I have been for over 4 months out of the last 22. Still ill, still a mystery.
I do just about anything to pass the time, including writing this blog post. I'm not doing it just to complain, writing stuff down helps a lot, it even becomes medicine in a way. Letting it all out instead of keeping it all in is good for the soul, or so it is said.
A couple of days ago, I was visited by a couple of young doctors. They are in the last few months of their training and as part of their course they need to speak to real patients as if they were that patients consultant. It makes sense when you think about it, within a year, they will be doing it for real after all. I was happy to oblige, I told them the whole story and went through my entire health history, as best as I can remember it at least. I'm happy to help where I can and it passed some more boring hospital time. Then at the end of our chat, they told me why they came to speak to me.
They'd been in a meeting with my consultant and he'd told them that I would be an 'interesting' patient to talk to. They said thanks and left but that word stuck in my head. Interesting!
I really don't want to be interesting, I'm literally and metaphorically sick of being 'interesting' now. I want to be uninteresting to all medical staff, I want to go back to being someone who sees his GP twice a year at most, I want to go to clinics only to get my flu jab every autumn, the only time I want to ever see the inside of a hospital again is when I'm visiting a sick friend or relative. No offence intended doctors, but I really don't want you to find me interesting at all.
Until January 2014, I was a reasonably fit middle aged man, then my fitness was just turned off, I can't express just how frustrating that is. There are do many things I used to just do without giving it a second thought, now even taking a photo can be difficult. I get worn out by almost anything, even talking. I know they don't mean to be annoying when they call me interesting but that is exactly what I now feel when I hear that word.
Please, stop finding me interesting, find me a pill that fixes me and send me home where I can be uninteresting again.
