Currently writing this blog dying a very slow death sat in the window of a local coffee shop. Sipping a triple shot DECAF, might I add. I've always said “Death before decaf” -so maybe this is the death part? As I drag myself back up to the counter to request another shot be put in my ever so weak and watery coconut latte. I'm now sipping a quad shot beverage and I'm telling you now, the placebo effect is NOT working...
Why would I do this to myself I hear you cry! Well, there is method in my caffeine cleanse madness, as I'm preparing to embark on a retreat which I've been planning for a long time. Way back since before Femur, or ‘BF’ should we say? Just like Before Christ, or Before Covid. This requires me to be cleansed of toxins before arrival, meaning I also have to cut out sugar, salt, oil, dairy, spices, gluten, red meat, amongst many other things. The list goes on as long as my arm, so I won't bore you with it. If I survive these bland tasting weeks, I'll be blogging about it all in on my return, while drowning myself in coffee, curry and chocolate cake. It's set to be a very enlightening experience!
For now, I'm just trying to figure out why my hormones have gone haywire and I'm desperately trying to get them under control before I travel. I had a great phone appointment with a Newson’s health hormone Doctor, and we came up with a temporary plan for while I'm away. I just needed to see my GP to get a prescription and all should be well. Unfortunately, this resulted in a highly unsatisfactory appointment with a dare I say clueless GP, completely void of any empathy. It's a bit scary really; how they get all arsey and in a huff when you say you've gone private and someone else has done the very job they should’ve done all along. I've never been to medical school but worryingly I get the impression they spend about 5 minutes at the end of a class before lunch covering women's hormone health, while everyone's halfway out the door to the canteen. I'm not seeing my hormone Doctor for another few weeks, but I got more out of them on a phone appointment than I seem to be getting here! If only this GP would play ball instead of disagreeing with someone more specialist than them. It's a strange power trip they're on. I've recently been to see a third Endocrinologist (almost as many now as the shots in my coffee) and I feel I liked this one the most. He agreed with the second guy about not putting me on the horrendous 'Alendronic Acid'- which would cause a lump in my jaw, harden my bones too much to the point I may shatter, depression, hair loss, acid reflux, Angioedema in my ankles (DON'T google image it). Tiredness (cos it's not like I don't suffer with that already!) - blurred vision or severe muscle and bone pain. NO thanks! Funnily enough I don't fancy taking such a mega drug and value my life enough not to destroy it in this way.
He wants to keep me on the HRT for a couple of years as a treatment for my bones and as my Oestrogen starts to rise, so will my bone density. I like that plan. I feel more comfortable with it and although HRT is no walk in the park, at least the side effects from that don't come anywhere close to those from the acid! We've tweaked my dose slightly as I've now started bleeding more than that tiny nick you got while shaving and now it won't stop. Not great for the anaemia, or the cows for the amount of organic steak I'm having to eat. Although that's currently not on the pre-retreat diet, of course. Hopefully over the next few weeks this will mean I'm less like a walking abattoir (sorry if you're eating, especially if it's steak!)
It's a shame I can't tweak my emotions in the same way, but I now know how strongly they are governed by not just our hormones, but seemingly small external factors that actually cause more stress than we realise. Like trying to park at The Christie... or should I say trying to get OUT of The Christie...
I met some wonderful and not so wonderful people on this supposedly simple journey. The first being the initial parking attendant, who moved a cone and let me park in what looked like a disabled bay but actually wasn't. He either liked me or just liked Pedro, but either way I was grateful for whatever I could get. Two lovely people inside on separate floors both helped me find my way through the hospital maze and broken lifts. My blood pressure was taken and probably rose more as I waited longer and longer past the actual time of my appointment. But then I met a delightful older lady with her tea trolley. She was a volunteer and spent all day making cups of tea for people like me. She had more sparkle and personality than anyone else in there, and after every drink served, she'd come back round with her bowl of biscuits. WHY are we not paying this woman? And handsomely too! She wasn't stood still long enough to ask, but I'd love to know her story. I wondered if she or her loved one had been nursed back to health in this building and now this was her way of paying back.
As terrified as I was to go to The Christie, a place known for cancer and quite rightly- sadness seeping through the walls, it wasn't as dark as I thought. Obviously I still cried in my appointment when he pulled up my Dexa scan results from last year, and I saw in bright yellow and 'danger red' how shockingly bad my bones were. But he listened to me, paused with me, empathised with me and agreed with me. No Biophosphonates for me! Well not just yet anyway. Agreeing with the second Endocrinologist that I was too young to be put on that! Let's stick with the hormones and see how I go. I just wish he hadn't said "because I may need to go on that drug in later years if things don't improve..."
But they will. I'll make damn sure of it!
I was beyond grateful to walk out of there and back to lovely Pedro, who was conveniently parked right in front of the entrance /exit boom. To my horror it had become utter carnage while I'd been in there, with cars queuing out onto the road just to get a space.
"I'm leaving now, so someone can have my spot!" I said to the now different boom operator, as the friendly one on my arrival had clearly gone on a break, or for the sake of his own sanity- quit his job. I smiled and went to walk through the gap in the bollards between the booms, but the man shot his arms out like a bodyguard trying to stop me getting to an A-list celebrity in a nightclub.
"You can't walk through here. You have to go out and walk around the building and enter at the other side."
It was pouring with rain might I add.
"But I came out this way and my car is literally that one there!" I pointed. Pedro was laughably close, all of four metres. I even pressed the key to unlock to prove my point.
But here was a man who took his job and little power way too seriously and seemed to enjoy watching me stand in the rain, refusing to let me walk 5 steps past him. The angry people in their cars started honking their horns as me and parking man continued our standoff.
"So let me get this straight..." I then repeated back to him what he requested I do, just to make sure it really did sound as ludicrous as it did. The fact he didn't laugh showed me he was indeed being serious, and I was tempted to limbo under his boom to lighten the mood. But I had to protect Pedro from any hate crimes, so, like an angel I skipped off into the rain, going all around the block and emerging 5 minutes later, very wet and through another doorway. I have a very long fuse so I would always have kept my cool, it's not that hard for me. But cutting out caffeine? That's a whole different ballgame.
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