Once the fear of ‘something really serious’ had passed and I had strong painkillers to ward off any future discomfort, the whole nature of dealing with the disease became easier. It was simply a gall bladder problem, so aside from an operation which needed to be negotiated, there was little to inconvenience me.
I didn’t want to spend a long time on painkillers, however, because of the risk of getting to like them too much. And, I suppose, there’s a part of me that when faced with these situations wants to get them over with as soon as possible. Continue reading
My GP had done his best, but without a scan, my illness was going to prove impossible to diagnose with certainty. Given the situation (that I was in regular debilitating pain and I had the money) it was easy enough to decide to go for a private scan. At this stage, the pain had begun to occur during the day as well as night time.
I mention this fact not to draw sympathy – which is irrelevant – but simply to point to the motivating factors that pushed this patient a particular way. It’s an idea that is getting a lot of media attention these days, but rarely is the problem discussed in terms of people rather than in cold, hard data. Continue reading
We are supposed to be ‘learning from illness’ in this series, but so far I’ve been concentrating on my personal experience. Despite the fact that I have many skilled and experienced doctors reading this blog, no-one reading the blog has, of yet, come up with the answer to my problem. That, in itself, is not surprising. My own doctor – and he is also a skilled, experienced and caring professional – did not come up with my diagnosis. In fact, I prevented him. Continue reading
I remember precisely the moment when it occurred. Like people say they remember hearing about the death of JFK or 9/11, I can see, sense it, even now, clearly and vividly. I can be back there in that moment as easy as flicking the channel to the Magruder tape or the towers in flames. Perhaps the moment had less significance for geo-politics, but it was, for me, like those events – the turning point from which there was no coming back.
We had finished dinner (Chicken Castrol, as the five-year-old would have it) and all the preparations for the kids going to bed had been done. They had even brushed their teeth, and (theoretically) gone to bed, though, as any parent knows, that’s merely the start of a process, not the end. Continue reading
When I said at the start of this series that I didn’t want it to be ‘a sentence without a period, a tale without a conclusion’ I hadn’t bargained, as most of us don’t, on anything happening to me in the future. That was a couple of weeks ago now, and my then future is now my past.
I had wanted to tell this story chronologically, because that’s the way it seemed to make the most sense, but even that wasn’t possible. I had to be ‘rushed’ (as they say) to an A&E Department last Tuesday in extreme pain, and therefore it was not possible for me to continue the story on the blog. Continue reading
It didn’t kill him. I am not sure it made him stronger but it didn’t kill him.
After many days of unexplained pain, puzzled faces and sleepless nights Terence went back to theater today to have the iatrogenic problem removed. It seems to have worked, but the last solution seemed to have worked too. Continue reading
We celebrated, and then the stuff that I am going to leave him to tell you happened and he came out the other side and we celebrated again. This time we celebrated by enjoying no pain, by going to sleep knowing that we would not be woken until small people asked if it was time to get up yet, by silently nodding to the knowledge that sitting down to watch a movie was not a fool’s errand because we would get to watch it all the way through. Continue reading
Some of our most ordinary days can be so sweet and happy, yet the world fails to notice the smile that radiates from our hearts. That morning, when I was a student, walking back from her flat, down a sun-drenched Leinster Road in Rathmines, with no lectures all day, and the thought: “She loves me, she loves me, she loves me.”
The first time I saw that little head, that vulnerable little child, and the knowledge that he was perfect. Ireland scoring that try in 1985 against England after Fitzgerald has asked the team about their pride. When I got my journalism qualification. The day of no pain. Continue reading
In the last post I talked about the willingness (with some it’s a compulsion) to put a name on the thing that ails you. I tried to keep that in a humorous vein, but in this post I want to talk about my actual experience with amateur (and professional) mis-diagnosis.
I don’t exclude myself from this examination in retrospect – I was as guilty as anyone else in terms of getting it wrong, and, this is key, to wanting the diagnosis to be one thing, and not the other. Continue reading
Guessing the Diagnosis
There is no illness until the symptoms of the illness begin to impact on your life. Until that time, there is a golden period. That’s life. A golden period. We are all dying slowly, so why think about it? If there are no symptoms, there is no disease. It’s a simple as that. Continue reading