Glucose test fun.

Well I clearly have plenty to say these days(!)

I had an appt on the 26th, which involved me waking up at the ungodly hour of 7.30am so I could leave the house at 8am and sit through rush hour to get to the hosp for 9am. Traffics shit through Newcastle at rush hour times - normally it only takes 25 - 30 mins to get there. 20 mins if you push your luck and bolt down the roads. The appt was just a normal check up entwined with the fun that is a glucose test. My Dad sort of told every nurse in sight that I'm not too nice when I'm hungry (in other words, don't piss me off). In truth, I wasn't that bad. After 30mins, the nurse finally got started, stabbed me with a trusty butterfly needle and checked my sugars, which were 5.6. Apparently that's good. I don't follow all these sugary numbers and terms b/c I've been a lucky shite to avoid CFRD so far.

Then I had the joy of that gross glucose drink. I've had worse, but it was hardly something I'd ask for more of. Two minutes later, the nurse came back and said she had to take more blood, b/c she'd accidentally let the first vial clot. Lovely. I didn't care b/c taking bloods doesn't even bother me anymore (when I was a kid, I'd scream merry hell if you even though of going near me with a needle. Obviously Tobra levels were fun times.) I have a slight feeling it could have had something to do with the fact that there's student nurses looking like lost little fawns everywhere. I don't mind the student nurses cus they can be endearing to watch sometimes. Cept, there's never any fit male nurses around. Northumbria, you disappoint me...

So. After the gross sugary drink, and having the nurses alarm untangled in case I do the clever act of having a dodgy turn to the pure sugar I'd just downed, I pretty much just assaulted the four walls of the room I'd been plonked in by spinning up and down the floor on the wheelie desk chair, and whacking into the walls whilst I refined my chair skills. And pushed my luck by going up and down the corridors too, which pissed off at least three nurses and a lung function tech or two. I just got raised eyebrows off the students nurses though (and my Dr when he walked past). I was told by all the nurses, and my dietitian and physio that I was supposed to be 'sitting still'. Eff that, I can't sit still if you paid me. In fairness, I was actually sitting down.

I got a bit cold and shivery for about 5 or so mins after I'd had the glucose crap. No idea if that was related or not. If it was, it was probably just a tiny thing whilst I adjusted to the amount of sugar that was in there, and went back to normal. I have no fucking clue how you CFRDers do it, b/c I'm betting that didn't even scratch the surface, and it unnerved me. I saw the dietitian, who was all pleased with my weight and my ability to eat half the food products that dare to be near me. My weight was actually down .3kg, but I'm betting that'd be the lack of breakfast. Stupid fasting rules for glucose tests.

My LF is actually the best it's been in 14 or 15 months now. My FEV1 is 79% and my FVC is 80%, which is frankly, awesomeness personified, b/c I really wasn't expecting an increase. My Dr kept saying how my LF is really good, especially as I rarely have random increases when I've not recently had IVs. With my cough being a bitch, IVs are on the cards though. I point blank refused any cipro at all, and had a total little rant about how he needs to find something else that works on me, b/c I'll walk out the room and not look back next time Cipro's even mentioned. Plus, the whole fact that I think my normal IVs are being less effective, cus I've had ceftaz for every dose, ever, at least since starting regular IVs 12 years ago, and colistin isn't being as effective as it was even a year ago, which fucking sucks. I'm not really sure what the Dr said about me wanting to find anything else. But I have the pissed off feeling he's not gonna try. Grrr.

Basically, IVs in two weeks time, obviously of ceftaz and colistin. I worked it out and it'll be 9 1/2 weeks since finishing that 3 week course. Erm... yeah. That pisses me off b/c I'm still not back to the old way of IVs every 3 months - this time I'm just over 2 months. Plus, with having my awesome LF, needing IVs sooner rather than later doesn't add up. Until you get to the part where my cough is a bastard that hates me, and I'm getting exhausted easier. So yeah, IVs.

After that moment of joy, the two hours of the glucose test were up and I needed to be assaulted with a needle again. The results were still normal I think. I wasn't listening when the nurse said what my sugars were the second time. My trusty vein in my right arm got stabbed a total of three times that day, and co-operated each time, so yay. I think I saved my veins from fucking up by getting a port at 11, and the fact that they used my wrist veins for lines too instead of always using my arms, for the 6 years until the port thing came about. Speaking of my port, I had that flushed, and it was all fine and dandy. Which I was particularly happy about considering the whole nightmare of fun I had last time with that lovely(!) nurse. She wasn't on duty on weds (that I'm aware of) but apparently she 'feels terrible about it'. Not to sound like a bitch, but good. Cus whatever she did fucking hurt.

I got a hold of my notes for 5 mins whilst they were left on my door, randomly opened them and ended up on a page of notes from when they put this port in. If I read it right, I'm pretty sure they've always had trouble taking blood from it (I read something along the lines of 're-inserted catheter, and tried again, with no blood return') so that's completely confused me beyond words why it bled back that one time when it was last flushed. It didn't this time, as usual. I don't care b/c I'd rather they use my arms for blood takes rather than the port. No idea why, I just hate having blood taken from it.

Ok, I think that's the whole thing. Nothing else much has happened. There's college stuff but that's verging on really getting personal so that's strictly off the blog. Sorry, ha. I'm no gossip about my own shiz.