Come on! Let me train!!!

Well, as you may guess, I’m starting to go a little stir crazy! This infection is relentless. I’m now on another type of antibiotic, Co-amoxiclav. The Flucloxacillin ran out the other day. It was very strange. I went to bed feeling a bit better. Then by lunch time the next day, after not having any antibiotics, I was back to feeling awful again. My heartrate was over 100 again, known as Tachycardia. I felt extremely tired, to the point that I couldn’t stay awake. I felt very sick and had no appetite at all. I also felt quite shakey. I had no temperature, but have not had a significant temperature (pyrexia) throughout the whole period of my illness. There is a common misconception that you have to have a temperature to have an infection or sepsis. My consultant said he thought I was septic when I finally received IV antibiotics. There is such a thing as hot sepsis, where you have a temperature (a temperature above 37.6) and cold sepsis, where your temperature is normal or below. Normal is different for everyone, but in general the normal range is 36-37 degrees. I am normally 36-36.5 when I’m well, so I know if I’m at 37.5 I’m usually not too well. We’ll my temp was a bit up bit not into the 38 plusses, which is where worrying begins. So at first they just focused on that. Until they finally realised that my other observations, like high heartrate (over 100 bpm) and low blood pressure was telling a story. Normal blood pressure is 120/80. Low is considered 90/60 or below. High is considered to be 140/90 or above. Mine was 60/40 at one point. My heartrate was 140-160 at rest, whilst laying in a bed. So there was no doubt I had a problem.

So, observation lesson over, I was basically feeling rubbish again. I decided to try 111 first before going to A&E, hoping to speak to an on call Dr. I spent over an hour with the phone on hold, and eventually gave up. So we were off to A&E again. We’ll bloods were taken and my platelets were high, my red blood count was low, and my crp was up. All showing infection. So I started on antibiotics again! The next day I felt a little better. Then on Monday these ran out and I fortunately spoke to a great GP at my local Dr surgery who decided to try another one. So here we are. Awaiting more blood results today! But still feeling rubbish to be honest.

So here I am. Still feeling to rubbish to train. We now have access to a new pool and gym. My wifey, who is amazing joined us up to David Lloyd whilst I was in hospital, as she knew how desperate I was to swim again, and start training for a Triathlon. So now I’m at home, my handbike now accessible, my wheelchair itching to get going, the new pool and gym waiting for me…and I’m still stuck to the sofa. Finding it difficult to eat more than a bowl of cereal and a piece of toast in a day. My muscle mass is deteriating, and I’m feeling absolutely rubbish. No energy at all. Then I’ve been sat watching the Olympics, which makes me want to train more than ever. I want to do my half marathon, but now I know I can’t. I want to do a marathon. I want to start training to do Triathlons. Hopefully one day an Iron-man. I have so many ambitions, and yet being glued to the sofa, is not one of them! It is quite depressing to be honest. I’m not too patient at waiting to do things I love! I just wish this infection would listen to me, and GO AWAY!!!

So for now, it’s fingers crossed. Try to eat, and be patient 🤣. One day I will be back out there…and that day will be amazing!!

So good to be home.

I’m home, as you may have guessed from the title. I finally made it home at 7pm on Tuesday. I think it was probably the longest discharge in history! Saw the Dr’s o Tuesday Morning at approximately 9am. They said they’d have me ready for lunch time!!! My wife made her way after work at 2pm. I ended up sending her home before she even made it to the hospital, knowing I was nowhere near discharge. I had gotten myself dressed, and my bag was packed. By 3pm I gave up, and my pyjamas were back on!! 🤣 My wife then remade her way at 5pm, as we were told that things were ready! At 7pm finally I was discharged. I waited 10 hours for a discharge letter and a few tablets! But, to be honest, I didn’t care. By the time I got through my front door, and into my pyjamas again, and was cuddling my little Lily, nothing else mattered.

My experience on Wynard ward was thankfully very different to the disastrous 13 hours on AMU. All of the staff were lovely. I had a fantastic student, and I wish I remembered her name, (I’ve always been useless with names!), but she was incredible for her level. She’s only a few weeks away from qualifying, and I’ve met nurses who have been qualified for years who don’t sho her professionalsm, level of caring or expertise. She will make a fantastic nurse. I do know she had a job already, and will be mentored in it by my best friend from university, which is amazing. The Nurses were all lovely. The endless cannula attempts. I think I counted 24 attempts in total! My veins completely gave up, and ran for the hills!!

I am still a little weak, and on antibiotics. Am very much looking forward to getting back to training. My lovely wife joined David Lloyd whilst I was in hospital, so I can swim again. In a pool which will not be overcrowded. It also has a handbike in the gym. I’m hoping to do my first swim on Saturday, all being well. I’m also going through classification for Triathlon for next year. There’s one in May which I’d like to do. As for my half marathon on the 5th of September! I’m going to have to see how I get on with training. I’m desperate to do it, but I know I’ve been through alot in the past 6 weeks, so have to build up slowly, and accept it if I can’t do it. I will find another to do instead! So for now, I’m trying my best to eat when I can, and stretching. The antibiotics make appetite a challenge, and make me very nautious, so the only thing I can stomach at the moment is toast, cereal and midget gems!! Not the best diet for fitness!!! But again, I’m home…. 😁😁

And I’m in again….

So, it’s been a few weeks. Finally made it home on the 19th of July from East Grinstead QVH hospital. They were incredible. Their treatment and kindness blew me away. Unfortunately on discharge, and just before I started having pain in the back of my leg where the nerve catheter was situated. We hoped it was just bruising and swelling from the sheer quantity of fluid that had gone into my leg. So after a couple of days at home, the pain got worse, and a tennis ball sized lump started to form in my hamstring (muscle in the upper back of your leg). I couldn’t sit on it, or even touch it. Systematically I also wasn’t doing too well. My heartrate was permanently over 100bpm which is known in the profession as Tachycardia, and my blood pressure was very low. These are all signs of infection. After a few days I put through an econsult with my gp. I was told they would phone between 1-6 on the Friday, but no one called. By 8pm the pain was so unbearable that we made the decision to go to A&E.

So after a bit of a wait I was trialed, and seen by a lovely Dr, who said I had to be admitted. They were very busy, and I was told that when I got to AMU, which is an emergency ward, I would be given pain relief, and they would scan my leg or do an ultrasound, and would be started on antibiotics. She reassured that they would get to the bottom of it. Well, none of this happened. I spent over 12 hours in a bed begging for pain relief, and no one would listen. Not only that, but they took my own medication from my bag, without my knowledge when I was in the bathroom. I have a chronic pain condition, and can’t go without my usual medication, and they wouldn’t even give me those. They did no tests, gave no treatment, and basically ignored me completely. I asked why, and was told they were busy. There were 5 other people in my bay and all 5 relieved treatment. Yet I was treated like I was a junkie asking for meds. They made a judgement and that was that. It wasn’t until 13 hours when I had asked repeatedly to speak to the ward manager that she showed up. She was lovely, and had no idea of what I was suffering. She immediately gave me my own medication back and I told her I wanted to go home. The crps was out of control by that point. I was briefly seen by a Dr, and despite the overwhelming symptoms pointing towards an infection, he refused antibiotics. Over the weekend I deteriorated further. I saw my gp on the Monday, who said I needed immediate treatment. But I had to go back to the same place. Well I just broke down. I couldn’t bear to be treated that way again. But she was amazing and spoke to the manager. Told her what had happened, and asked if I could be seen in the other part of the ward. So I was. There I had an ultrasound where they found a large sack filled with fluid inside my muscle. I was started on antibiotics and let home with an appointment for a scan the next day. I had my scan which showed a huge amount of swelling and a large fluid filled sack. The next day I was admitted for treatment. I ended up on the sister ward of amu and they were much nicer. I ended up being moved to Wynard ward where they’ve been wonderful. I had the lump drained by an amazing consultant in radiology. It was filled with what he called, pea soup… lovely puss. He took one look at my observations and said that I was septic. I was immediately started on IV antibiotics and oral antibiotics… and here we are. They know there is stafflococcus in my leg, but not sure as yet if its the MRSA (MRSA is a type of bacteria that’s resistant to several widely used antibiotics. This means infections with MRSA can be harder to treat than other bacterial infections) or another type. So I’m in isolation just incase, and awaiting news from microbiology, hopefully tomorrow.

They have been lovely on this ward. All the nurses and Dr’s have been fantastic. My veins are all rather rubbish now, so if my antibiotics need to continue longer, I may need a more permanent solution, like a long line or central line. Pretty scary stuff to be honest. So now I’m just waiting for news. Crossing all fingers that I can go home soon, and finally be on the road to recovery. The access and infection are a very rare complication of having a nerve catheter. So of course, being the Queen of rarities, it was bound to happen to me 🤣. Still, onwards and hopefully upwards. I’m busy watching Nurse Jackie box set, and my wonderful wifey has been to see me every day, so can’t grumble too much. The TMR surgical wound is so neat and I think it’s already helping. So, hopefully good news for tomorrow 🤞

20 days and counting …

As you may have gathered, I’m still in hospital! I mistakenly thought I’d be in and out within 5 days. I was pre-warned that it could take a couple of weeks, or possibly longer, but I thought, I’m tough, I’ve been through lots already, I have a very high tolerance to pain… None of those things make any difference to any hospital stay. It is impossible to predict how you will recover, or how long it will take. I can say, that previous to this experience, I was certain that I had reached the very hight of my pain level. That pain couldn’t possibly be worse that CRPS flares with neuromas… I was wrong. CRPS flares, with surgery is far worse. I was warned, so it wasn’t lime I went into this not knowing that things would be tough. But usual me… I shrugged it off, and thought to myself ‘oh well, what’s a little more pain?’ Well, I can tell you… a lot!!! I’m feeling battered, bruised, sore, sick, tired, and missing my babies. All that said, however, things are steadily improving, and the care and treatment I have received here at the QVH hospital in East Grinstead has been just incredible. All of the staff are just to kind, and caring. They have been there for me through night and day. I know you must be thinking, well thats what is supposed to happen in hospital, well let me say… it doesn’t always happen. After being a Nirse myself for 14 years, I’ve seen a substantial lack in compassion within the field. Yet here, they all have oodles of it. They are warm, and friendly. They make me cups of tea in the night when I’m awake in pain. My surgeon Tania Cubison, the genius, always comes by every morning to check on me. The pain nurses have been in every day, trying everything they can to see me through the tough times. The anaesthetists have been to see me every morning and evening to administer boluses into the nerve catheter in my leg. I am honestly, truly amazed.

So, we have lowered my intravenous pain medications now, and are lowering the local anaesthetic meds going into the nerve catheter in my leg. The pain is rather bad a couple of times a day, which is when the anaesthetists step in. But we’re making improvements in that respect as well. The plan is that the nerve catheter needs to come out by the weekend, as its been in too long by that stage, and could increase risk of infection, which I definitely do not need. So watch this space. Hopefully I will be home by early next week, if not sooner 🤞

It’s a Neuroma!!!

Finally, after two years of saying that I have pain, other than my crps in my stump, I finally had an MRI. The results showed a neuroma and a second area of thickening around my stump. Finally, after being rebuffed, ignored, made to feel awful… I was right. So, I recieved a call from Bristol to tell me the news. They said that there was a few treatments, but we’re still reluctant to do surgery or even touch it because of the CRPS! This is despite the fact that it would seem that the Neuroma(s) are setting of my CRPS. People are so focused on not setting off the crps, that they are prioritising it over long term treatment, basically confiding me to my wheelchair for life! Luckily for me, I had my appointment in East Grinstead, and the amazing team there see things differently. They believe in treatment, with the realisation that my crps may get worse, but they inform and let me decide.

During my visit, I had an ultrasound, which was thoroughly explained, and had the consultant present. I then saw my consultant, Dr Tania Cubison. She was amazing. She explained everything. I saw videos, photos, and was told the actual facts and statistics of probability of recovery. I felt fully informed, which I have to say, I’ve never had before. I don’t know if it’s because I’m a nurse, or weather others have had such treatment, but at my local hospital, I’ve never had as good a treatment as I did at East Grinstead. After I saw my Dr, I then saw a anaesthetist, who was again very thorough, and explained everything. Now this is a big thing for me, as when I went in for my amputation, I was taken into hospital 4 days before the surgery to have a block by the pain Dr, who didn’t show up to do it! As a possible consequence of this, my CRPS came back! The anaesthetist resured me that he will show up, and couldn’t believe that someone, or a service would be so unprofessional. He plans to put in a block the day before the surgery, and then they will place two other blocks when I’m unconscious. He stressed the importance of doing this so that they can ensure it works, and doing it right before having surgery, doesn’t give you a gauge of weather it is placed correctly, which is what happened to me!

Above is a picture of a neuroma.

So then I was off to see a pre op nurse. They were also very nice, and seemed quite knowledgeable. The were very thorough. I have never had bloods taken before in a pre op assessment either. I have also never been made to feel so welcome. I have to say, I am very glad I will be going there for my surgery. The thought of going to the Roayl Devon and Exeter again, where they’ve ignored me, treated me like a sub human, and neglected me, wasn’t very favourable. So this should be happening in August, we think. The plan is to do TMR surgery on three of my nerves. There will be an approximately 8-10 inch scar on the back of my leg. I have been told to expect a hospital stay of 3 days to 2 weeks, and their goal is to ensure my pain is under control before they kick me out. Another refreshing change…

We have a plan… I couldn’t be more relieved, and grateful to my friend Maggie, who without her referring me to this amazing specialist Doctor, I would not be in this fortunate position. It is amazing that I’ve had to go so far away, just to be taken seriously, and to have treatment. It angers me, as I’ve worked at the RD&E for almost half of my life, including doing my nurse training there. I’ve been a registered nurse there for 14 years. Yet I received such diabolical neglect, that they were just going to leave me in pain for the rest of my life. I still have not received an appointment with the pain team, despite 2 years of urgent referrals being sent. This is how poor the treatment has been for me… having none! Anyone with a Neuroma will tell you, it is excruciating, as is CRPS, and one sets off the other.

All I can do now, is wait for the date. I couldn’t be happier with East Grinstead. Just wonderful.

Dying for treatment!!

What crps look’s like! I’ve always been against showing stumpey, but to show people is to help them understand. I am not ashamed of stumpey!

Anyone with a chronic pain condition can testify that the road to successful treatment can be somewhat of a minefield, when you have more than one condition. This minefield becomes even more chaotic when Doctors can only see one condition, and deny the possibility, or sheer presence of another. Case in point – I have CRPS in my left stump. I also have this other, yet to be diagnosed issue. I saw a lovely Doctor (finally!!) Who I must say, seemed a little out of his depth, but couldn’t see past the CRPS. No matter how many different ways I explained the different types of pain I’m in, he just kept going back to the CRPS. Frustration doesn’t cover how I felt! On the day, I had my wife with me; and my Blesma representative (amazing veterans amputee charity) wrote a detailed email prior to my appointment, explaining the circumstances. Yet with two advocates, he still seemed to be blinkered to the possibility of something else. I started to feel like an orange ribbon, like the emblem of CRPS charities, and that’s all people see. The prosthetists, the physio, and now the 1st Doctor I’ve seen face to face (other than my GP, who is amazing!).

I am a registered nurse, and throughout my career I have been used to the medical terminology used, and how things work within the NHS, and am yet to receive any tests, or treatments, or interventions of any kind. Instead, I’ve been passed from pillar to post, around the roundabout and house’s, getting nowhere! Meanwhile, the pain and effects of pain, are taking away the enjoyable parts of my life. So I can’t help but worry what happens to those who don’t have an advocate, or a realisation of what should be happening? It’s not easy to speak up, and describe your own condition when your Doctor is telling you that what you are saying is rubbish! When they can’t see past your ‘other’ condition; or are simply out of their depth. How many people out there are desperate? Desperate for treatment? Desperate for someone to listen; really listen to them, so they can have their pain investigated and have a chance of a meaningful life. I have been a nurse for 14 years and have had the privilege of working with some magnificent Doctors and specialists, but I know first hand that anyone can slip through the cracks, or be ignored, or even not believed! This, despite the mantra which all us care givers are taught to abide – “pain is what the patient says it is”. Not all health professionals remember this! Instead we often get labeled as ‘junkies who are just after medication’, or they sometimes go to the other end of the spectrum by medicating, and medicating some more; chucking a plaster over it, instead of diagnosing it!

How many people with pain conditions have reached the point of absolute frustration? If a person is telling their care giver that they are in pain, isn’t it their duty to investigate why? And to treat them. If they refuse to do so, or ignore them; isn’t this pure medical negligence? When, my Mum was in agony with a variety of conditions, she said to me “If I was a dog, they would put me down”, yet we are left, suffering! These people who are responsible for leaving us with such suffering are basically condemning us to death, One way or another! When your pain is horrific and no-one will listen, or help… what else can you do? I was extremely worried and shocked when I learnt that according to a web based survey, 20% of CRPS sufferers had attempted suicide, and 46.4% reported suicidal intentions. This is shockingly 6x higher than those with depression, according to a psychiatry study. With statistics such as these, for my condition alone; can Doctors really justify their ignorance to people who are in pain? I would be lying if I said I hadn’t considered it. Especially with the pain of flare ups, and frustration of no intervention and poor treatment!

According to oatext.com, and I should imagine, anyone with a chronic pain condition – “chronic pain patients are at elevated risk of suicide”. Shouldn’t those who refuse to treat, refuse to listen, refuse to test, to diagnose, to intervene, be held accountable for their actions? Instead of leaving us to suffer? Shouldn’t they be referring us to those who do know how to treat our conditions? Those who may be interested! Isn’t that the definition of ‘proper care?’. Not condemning us to a life of suffering!

Happy times…

A few months ago; at college; in my English lesson, my teacher asked us to write a piece of creative writing about a time when we were happy. Usually my assignments have followed a similar path of 19th century crime; but this time I decided to use my own experience and share one of my happiest times. So I thought I would also share this with you. So this is a short story of my happiest times, by me; Lexi Alyx Chambers.

When you dream at night; or even have an afternoon daydream; what is it you dream of? For me, it’s simple – running. The feel of running along soft sand, dampened by the early morning tide.

I used to run at the first blush of each morning. From one end of the ocean front to the other, and back; in one continuous unbroken effort; culminating in a charge up and down the rolling dunes.

Years previous, I would have balked at the idea of running so far, so often; but at the time, I relished the prospect. Donning my ritualistic combination of runners apparel. My Asics Gel running shoes, and double layered, hyper-absorbent 1000 mile socks. My favoured, somewhat garish shorts made from tangerine coloured shell suit material; lightweight and easy to run in; although unfortunately rather decadent of 80’s fashion. More of a reminder; a level of familiarity to where it all began.

Thick beads of sweat would drip down my face; leaving a salty sting as they dampened my eyes; leaving behind a salty taste of the sea. My gate, almost silent; as my shoes kissed the sand beneath. Each step became miles; which passed in a wonderful, exhilarating blur. Movements so often practiced that they had become an automatic sense of perfection.

Some like to listen to music, traveling to the beat of an inspirational tune. I loved to run and think. Daydream of a better life. If only I had known back then; that I was already living it!

Each delightful morning would follow the same trajectory, culminating in roosting upon the ridge of the tallest dune. I would kick off my tight, suffocating running shoes and peel of my nasty socks dampened by the lather of my run. Feeling the morning breeze caressing my face; my feet; slowly drying the beads of effort from my expelled energy. Breathing in the salty flora; that fragrance which conjures a sense of delight, of peace, or joy to soothe the soul. The light would rise upon the horizon. A gift to anyone who dared to open their eyes to see the world awaken. Growing brighter with every passing moment; welcoming a brand new day.

Walking forward from the hills; the large masses of sand formed by aeolian processes. From the ridge of energy; standing to feel the steady warmth from the crystalline blanket of white. A million molecules of muted earth beads, massaging and exfoliating my weary feet; whilst sinking between my toes.

I would make my way to the darker hue of sand; dampened by the morning tide. The cool water soaked sediments relieving the heat. Waves crashing upon the shore with a soft hiss. Retreating slowly; inhaling. Then peeling away and reworking sediments; exhaling; spewing the torrents in an undulating surge and swell of the tide. As if the earth itself were breathing.

There stood I. Alone, content. Barefoot upon the sand. Breathing deeply the ocean carried air. Miles of dune fields amidst vacant pearl and copper sand. Hypnotised by the percussion, rhythm and steady roar of breaking waves. Feeling the cool breeze, within the pallet of colours, which grew brighter; dappling the sky; imparting their warmth, and comforting my tired sensibility. Hearing the happiness within, without uttering a word. Lost within the atmosphere; within my thoughts.

I was yet to find that life would decide to augment itself, with a lesson which I am yet to fathom. I was to learn a cruel sense of irony; to have surgery for pain in my foot; caused by the very thing I loved most; running. Only for the very thing which was supposed to be my cure; meaning the end of running for me. The multitude of surgeries were supposed to get me back there; back to running; albeit with the assistance of a carbon fibre half-leg, to replace the obsolete one which I was born with. Now, over a year later, I could not be further away.

At first my dreams felt shattered, but if the very activity I dream of taught me anything, it was to never give up. So although my dream will always be to run along the sand, and feel the cool water upon my feet / foot. Temporarily, I shall embrace the reality of my racing wheels, replacing my running legs; racing from afar, upon the beachfront.

The simplicity of running taught me about life. Every little thing can be broken down into one step at a time. If you look ahead at the whole journey, you remain lost in its longevity; but if you just take that first step, you never know how far you will be able to travel. It let me escape reality and gave me a focus to give everything my all. The past which I took for granted, has now become the dream which I long for. But for the time which I had it, I was happy.