In the main, it's because I have been out living my life and having fun: I had two consecutive weekends off which was splendiferous: I spent the first one in London with my friend. We got the train down on Saturday morning, had a mooch around the shops on oxford street/regent street and then went to a gig at the O2 arena. I went when it was the dome, complaining bitterly and loudly about wastage of public money; but thought it made a great gig venue. Its massive! Then on the sunday we went to Camden and a bought a teapot which looks like a VW Camper Van. We retired to Soho about 4pm for some beers, nearly missed out train home; ended up buying booze at an extortionate price from the on-board shop; and then decided to go out (overnight bags and all) when we got home. I crawled into bed about 2am. I was on nights the week of june 8th so could have a lie in, but my friend was up and in work for 8am. I just couldn't do it.
So I did a week of nights, and then that weekend I went away as I was doing some vountary work for a charity. Saw loads of friends who I'd not seen for over 6 months so that was fun, although I fell asleep on the train on the way there and ended up a little further south than I needed to be. Sigh. The train people were very nice to me and let me ride the two stops back for free!
On 16th I had an appointment to see the insulin pump nurse. I had arranged it the week before, knowing I needed a kick up the arse. I have kept the pump connected for the most part; although blood sugar testing is sparce and I'm just randomly bolusing in units when I feel high (as in hyperglycaemia) I told her the truth about my adversion to testing, my adversion to raising the basal rate, my adversion to insulin full stop; and my gaining weight fear due to lack of exercise.
Speaking of which, I have gained weight. I'm a size 12. I have now not been to the gym for 3 weeks because I have horrible horrible back pain and when I curve my spine I click, loudly. Fortunatly; the rest seems to have done the trick. Starting tomorrow it is strict and restrictive diet; and major exercise regime.
I left feeling inspired to get my act together. And for the next 48hrs my blood sugars were normal. And then, like the greedy oafus with no self discipline or willpower that I am, I began to eat like a horse and the regular insulin bolusing went out of the window
Tuesday 23rd I had a job interview. It was for a years secondment into a specialist nurse post. I thought it went well; I was pleased with my presentation and my questions; but I didn't get the post. They told me it was for 2 reasons: my sickness record; and that they felt I was too experienced for the job?!
As far as the sickness record goes: they asked me about my sickness interview; and given that they could always look it up if they were so inclined I wasn't going to lie. I explained that due to recent hand surgeries I was on formal sickness monitoring; but that it was due to end in 3 weeks [its 3 months long] and that I hadn't been sick in that time. However I had had 4 episodes in the past year (my mentalness last august, a 2 day DKA in september, my hand saga in Nov-Dec, and another 2 day DKA in feburary. I neglected to mention the hand related episode in March because I was told at my last sickness review that wouldn't count - see this post http://blogofcrazynurse.blogspot.com/2009_04_01_archive.html )
They asked how many episodes were related to the hand. I lied and said 2 out of the four; even though it was only one. But that they could never find out.
I was gutted when they told me I hadn't got the post, totally gutted. I cried; and I hardly ever cry these days. This year I can only remember crying once which was when my Gran died. I can see it from their point of view: its a secondment for 12 months. If I'm sick for a month of that, thats their secondment money gone, and no one working for them.
The second reason they gave me was that they felt I wouldn't be challenged in the band 5 role: they said I should apply to a band 6 post they are advertising in the autumn (I am a band 5, and this interview was for a band 5) They were unable to provide any negative feedback regarding the interview or the presentation. They are recommending me to do my masters (a post grad course) in this area; and have fully funded places available.
I can't really get my head around this; I mean; how can you turn someone down for a band 5 post but recommend them for a band 6? And how am I supposed to get a band 6 with no experience at band 5 in that area? It would have been easier to take if they had just said 'sorry you were shit' but to say I was too qualified for it? I can't buy it
And to that end I convinced myself that it was in fact because I was shit, and that they were just softening the blow, as it were with all this about the masters and the band 6. But they have e-mailed me all the details and arranged a meeting for next week to discuss it all in more detail; so who knows?
I was upset, confused, pissed off, but most of all disapointed in myself. If I hadn't put myself in DKA in September or in February and just got a grip; then I might have got the job. Am I just completely stupid? Who makes themselves acidic? People die of DKA.
My initial reaction to all of this was to do nothing. Which might sound like denial, or dissassociation; but I thought it was a good thing, a positive step forward on my mentalness scale. At least I didn't put myself at risk from me. I didn't fast, or binge, or disconnect the pump. I didn't self harm, or overdose, or get voices in my head. Like I said; nothing.
Initially. That was Wenesday. Thursday night, I decided I didn't get the job because I was shit, and I was not just a shit nurse, I was a shit person. I mean seriously, what is the point of me? I am shit, because I have no self control or willpower, and you can see that when you look at me because I am fat.
So I injected some furosemide (a diuretic) into myself IV. I'd bought it online on a well dodgy site about a year and a half ago; but never had the nerve to take it; and it had been festering with my other collection of tablets ever since. But I thought if I could drop a few pounds fast it wold be worth it. I took 40mg IV, neat. I was awake all night, peeing. And I thought 'fantasic, its working'. Oh, mistake . . . read on
On Friday I was supposed to be working a bank shift. I know I'm not supposed to because of being on formal sickness; but having to sell this house is becomming a serious possibility and I don't want to do that; so overtime it is.
I woke up at 11, feeling horrendous. My blood sugar was normal, but my heart was racing, and I was really sweaty. I felt ridiculously weak. I got on my bike at 12:30, the shift was starting at 13:30 and it takes about 25mins to get there normally; but I knew I wouldn't be going at full speed.
I knew something wasn't right as soon as I began cycling. Everything sounded really far away and my vision was blurry. All I was thinking was 'just get to work, have a lie down in the staff room and everything will be fine.' Somewhere en route I must of fainted into the curb because I came round on the pavement in town. I felt like I was struggling for air, it was truly horrible. I lay there for ages, but managed somehow to get up and carry on. About 5 mins after that I knew I was going to faint; so I managed to pull over onto a grass verge. I was in the process of getting off my bike. I came round lying on the grass, my bike kind of on top of me. I was only 5 mins from work by this point. I lay still until my breathing felt better and my heart didn't feel like it was about to burst out of my skin; then got up and managed to get to work.
I didn't even lock the bike up because I couldn't co-ordinate my hands. I was walking through the corridors; and went to go up the stairs but had to stop to catch my breath at the bottom. Someone stopped me to ask if I was okay. I was like "oh, I'm fine, I just need to lie down for a minute or two" they suggested I got the lift, so I backed out of the stairway and was making for the lift. The next thing I remember was waking up and I was being carried like a baby by a matron I didn't recognise; who put me onto an A+E trolley. They kept shaking me saying "hello? Hello?" and I was like "I'm so sorry, I'm fine".
Long story short, I had collapased. My ECG was fine, my bloods were fine, my BP was in my boots so I had a couple of litres of fluid and then I was free to go. Needless to say, I neglected to mention the furosemide to them; but that is SO the end of my foray into duretics as a weight loss mechanism.
My only saving grace is that it was a bank shift and so at least I didn't have a day off sick. I can't believe that its nearly been a year since that whole 'voices-in-my-head-bridge-jumping-police-sectioning' incident. If I can get to September 29th without being sick my record will be vastly improved.
So, tomorrow is the first day of the rest of my life. I am going to eat well and drink no alcohol and exercise lots and get fit and healthy and thin