ten thousand tablets later…


3 a day

21 a week

84 a month

1008 a year.

10,080 in ten years

So, if I carry on taking my small little 3 tablets a day of Azathiaprine, then potentially by the time I am abour 30 years old I will have taken over ten thousand tablets in just the last ten years alone. Adding to this any antibiotics I may have to take because of a reduced immune system from the medicine. And the normal like paracetemol. It both amazes and disgusts me.

I am amazed that modern science can remove the crippling pain that I felt for so long last year, I am disgusted that my body couldn’t sort it on its on. I am amazed that this is relatively new technology, and what else could be achieved in the future, I am disgusted that it was my body that failed to function properly on its own, I am amazed, but I am also disgusted.

I am lucky enough to be getting my treatment done privately, through private health care my dad receives with work; although I am only covered another 3 months until I turn 21..but I am still paying for all my medicines myself. Every time I go to get a prescription it is at least £8, and due to the changing medicine and the amount at which I get through them..I am going regurlarly. I don’t even want to think about how much that will add up to.

 

I was looking at the British Museum website for part of my studies, and found this exhibit:

https://www.britishmuseum.org/explore/highlights/highlight_objects/aoa/c/cradle_to_grave.aspx        called “From Cradle to Grave”,  about the number of tablets the average person has in a lifetime. It follow a male and female story. Both contain over 14,000 pills / tablets / lozenges etc – which doesn’t include the ones that we take over the counter. If so it would be about 40,000 pills each (according to the website). just re-read that number in your head, forty thousand. That is a huge, a ridiculous number. But for me, and others like me, that number will be oh so much higher. I will be taking 1/4 of that number in the next ten years of my life alone – and ontop of that many other potential pills -antibiotics, contraceptives , etc. That boggles my mind.

 

I am so grateful to live in a time when this medicine is available to help my body to cope, and to allow me to live once more a normal life. But I am also a little disappointed in myself, in my body, for not being able to cope. Why does it need THIS much help? Why couldn’t it just…well, work?! Regardless, it doesn’t and life goes on. But that number of pills in my body, each releasing a little something which affects how my body should naturally work…. I know I need them, but it feels a little weird.

 

Full of reflections today,

 

H x

 

one month ago today


I might do a longer post later, I’m not sure.

But, 20/12/2013 I had my operation, one month ago today. I cant believe it, seems so long ago, another lifetime that I was waiting in that hospital ward holding my mums hand and watching the minute on the clock tick by and waiting, waiting. I remember waking up in recovery. I remember being given my morphine button. I remember getting wheeled back to my room – we had to go in a lift and the bed bumped in and out of the lift doors. I remember seeing my mum for the first time. I remember asking if I got a stoma bag. I remember it. But it feels so long ago.

 

Im nostalgic about it in a weird way I guess, I feel like a big thing that was in my life is over, in terms of the operation. A huge step in my life has been taken, forwards I hope; and of course I am glad, but it is a weird feeling. I hope that, in a weird selfish way, my scar remains visible for a while longer (which I know it will) but because I get caught in this weird place – one where I am stuck between not wanting people to treat me differently and treat me ill, but also wanting them to know I am ill (or was ill – hopefully its mainly in the past) and accept that fact when I have a bad day and not just think I am moaning. With the hospital and the surgery and the scar I was no longer in that place, I was accepted as having been ill and weaker and needing to recover, and I am not trying to say I want that, or need it in my life; but it felt good to have proof and to not be constantly trying to justify how I felt when I was down. Its the weirdest feeling, and one I never thought I would have, or struggle so much in expressing. It seems an almost childish desire in a way; a need to be recognised and supported with sympathy when I need it, but not to be pandered to when I don’t… is that possible? I hope to find that balance.

 

Maybe I wont need another post later…I hope that those ramblings make some sense to some of you, I never feel like I write in an eloquent fashion compared to many bloggers out there, but my aim is more to get honest thoughts and feelings out onto this space, as opposed to well written ones with good sentence structure!

 

One month can change a lifetime.

 

H x