Nature’s punishment

Yesterday, I had my second and final shingles vaccine jab. Today? I. Feel. Awful. I know that this is isn’t unusual, just typical post-jab crud. In fact, this is probably only Number Three on my all-time yuckiest post-jab Hit Parade. Basically, I feel flu-like—tired, a little achy, and fever-like (I don’t actually have a fever), and the injection site hurts like a mofo.

BUT: This time they gave me a post-jab flyer from the Ministry of Health talking about most common yucks and what to do about them. For what I’m feeling, they say, “Because paracetamol or ibuprofen can interfere with your immune response to a vaccine, only take them for relief of significant [the boldface type was in the original; I guess they must mean it…] discomfort or high fever.”

I’m well aware that post-jab crud is an indication that my immune system is responding, and that’s both exactly what should be happening, and a very good thing. But I feel truly awful.

I felt okay up until evening, when everything started getting worse. I was in bed by around midnight (which by my standards is still evening…). At around 3am, Leo decided he wanted to go outside, even though I made him go outside right before we went to bed. At that moment, he was my demanding four-footed flatmate, not my much-loved and cherished friend and companion. It took me the better part of ten minutes to get myself to sit up, get out of bed, and lead him to the patio doors. Leo stood and watched me.

I gave him about ten minutes outside, while I considered taking some paracetamol, but the flyer’s words were ringing in my eyes, and I couldn’t work out how to define “significant discomfort”. I just had a glass of water (one of the flyer’s recommended things), and then had to whistle for Leo to come back inside (dogs like to stand around and sniff the air, which Nigel said was them “reading the neighbourhood newspaper”).

We went back to bed (me under an additional blanket), and we got up about 7 hours later—ten hours in all, including the interruption. As a result, I feel rested, but also awful. I feel a rebellion coming on: At some point soon, I’ll defy the Ministry of Health and take the damn paracetamol! Well, probably not: I’m a lousy rebel, and besides, it’s been a bit more than 24 hours since my jab, so it should start improving “soon”, without chemical intervention. This 2-jab vaccination costs everyone except 65-year-olds $700+, so I want to give it the best shot, so to speak, of giving me immunity to shingles. Like I said, I’m a lousy rebel.

Early this afternoon, I was feeling sleepy and tired, somI decided to have a nap. An hour or so later, I woke up, mainly because I had to go to the loo (all that water I’ve been drinking must be returned eventually). At the time, I felt a little bit better.

Unfortunately, that was the high point of the day, because the achiness became a more noticeable part of the flu-like symptoms. I surrendered at 9pm: I finally took some paracetamol in the hope it would take effect before I go to bed. I hope it does.

Fortunately, this sort of thing doesn’t happen to me very often, but every time it does happen, I wonder why I put myself through it. The not getting sick or dying from preventable diseases is my “why”, but right now it’s very difficult to remember that.

Update – July 24, 2024: The paracetamol took effect a couple hours after I took it, and I did feel better. However, I was worried the yuck might return, so I stayed up long enough to take another dose. I slept well enough last night—which kind of surprised me considering how much sleep I'd had during the affliction. This morning, I felt pretty much okay-to-good, and I only put it that way because I felt so washed out after the ordeal. Oddly enough, that feeling aside, I probably felt better than I have in weeks.

Still, I got absolutely nothing done yesterday or Monday evening, and even I was surprised at how much I had to get done today just to catch up. The important thing, really, is that the post-vaccination crud has ended.

Ordinary life continues

Ordinary life always carries on, for good or bad, and which it is probably depends mostly on our life situation. For most of us who are safe from war and natural disasters, there’s a kind of banal ordinariness to our daily lives, but that doesn’t mean ordinary events aren’t worth noting, at least sometimes (and for a personal journal blogger, that’s “most times”). Also, many of the big and significant events in our life depend on the small, ordinary, possibly even totally unrelated events in our lives, that came before. And sometimes, especially online, it’s just documentary evidence that we were here, and that’s enough.

I’ve had a lot of ordinary stuff going on lately, things that, as is often the case these days, I haven’t shared here. This is the first in a series of “catch-ip” posts, kind of like a chat with a friend, maybe—or maybe just if I want to flatter myself.

The photo montage up top is from Friday of last week, and when I posted the photos on my personal Facebook, I said:

I picked my first usable lemon (I got one last year, but the birds had pecked at it). The plant is still pretty young, and I did very little to/for it apart from giving it some citrus fertiliser. I didn’t spray, so the lemon isn’t perfect looking, and I’m fine with that because neither am I! 🤣 Also, Leo wanted to show you his toy bone. It’s a lovely, sunny Friday afternoon in Kirikiriroa-Hamilton, and we hope you’re having a great day wherever you are!

The only unusual thing about this is that I made the montage up top because that’s how the two photos appeared on my Facebook post. That’s hard to do on Blogger, so, I turned as I so often do to Photoshop. There’s a side note to this, though: I noticed recently that when I post photos of me and/or Leo on Facebook, I get more “reactions” than I get for a post where I share a link to something, or just write some words. The posts with photos of Leo usually get the most reactions. Consider that market research, I suppose.

I was supposed to see the dental hygienist on Monday of that week, but she called in sick. On Friday the office rang me to reschedule, and that was for this past Monday at 10am—what was I thinking?! I saw a new hygienist, who I have an appointment to see again in six months, along with a check-up with the dentist, who will also be new: My current dentist is leaving the practice to go to one closer to where he lives. Everything was fine with the hygienist.

After that, I went to the chemist next door for my influenza vaccination and Covid booster. As it happens, I went to the hygienist and then got the same jabs at the same place one year ago today, something that Facebook “Memories” reminded me of this morning.

After my health stuff, I went first to get some breakfast at the Columbus Coffee cafe in the Mitre 10 Mega (I’m not paid to promote either, by they way—it’s just where I went; obligatory food porn of my eggs benny, as seen on my Facebook, is at right). I wanted to check out something that the Mitre 10 website said was in stock at that location—it wasn’t. I also went to look at a new cover for my outdoor table and chairs, as I was talking about last week, but they didn’t have the size for my table, though they did have the twice-the-price one (I didn’t buy it).

My final stop was the supermarket, and that was nearly two weeks since my previous visit. This makes me think I may have successfully reduced my buying, and increased my planning, so that I can go every other week. Maybe. If so, it’d mean I’ll spend less, too. Still, early days.

By the time I was maybe halfway through the shop, I started to feel kind of unwell—the post-jab blech was settling in. I didn’t muck around after that, and so, forgot a couple things. Still, I was able to leave soon after and I went home.

That afternoon, I tried having a bit of a nap, but barely dozed. I moved to my chair and just sat and relaxed teh rest of the afternoon. At one point I looked up and toward the front window, and the photo at the bottom of this post is what I saw. Instantly made me feel better—though I still needed some paracetamol by evening.

The post-jab blech continued to some extent both Tuesday and Wednesday, especially in the evening, and on Tuesday I was particularly tired. Even so, this week has had other adventures, mostly on Wednesday, but that’s a tale on its own.

These ordinary days can have a lot going on even when they’re ordinary. Or, maybe I just notice more on those ordinary days. In any case, sometimes it’s nice to be busy just doing ordinary things.

A week of health stuff not mentioned

My week last week was filled with a lot of activity, most of which I talked about on my personal Facebook, but not here. Many of those posts were topics I’d normally talk about here—precisely what I was talking about in my post last Wednesday. However, I realised that three of the posts shared related themes, and so, this post was the result.

Two of the three posts this past week were about things that happened last week, and one was about an anniversary of another event. In each case, there was more to the post than just the subject.

On Monday, I shared the photo up top and wrote:

Leo has a special message for you: His daddy just got his results from the National Bowel Cancer Screening Programme: Negative. No surprise at all, but Leo said he’s happy, anyway. I “poo it” again in two years. 😁

I actually talked about the latest test both on Facebook and here, and that was when the test kit arrived back in August of last year. However, I didn’t get around to it at the time, and by the time I sent it back, the kit had expired (they’re only good for six months). So, I got a new kit in the mail to do it again. This surprised me, but only because I didn’t think to look up when the first kit arrived, and in my mind it was October, not August. Now, of course, I completely get why I had to do it a second time.

I posted the sample using second kit on Thursday, the week before last, and the results were posted to the doctors’ website on Monday. I haven’t yet received a copy by post—not that I need one, it’s just that’s how I got my results the first time, in 2019. I got my next one on 2021, in the midst of the Covid era, and for many reasons (including Covid restrictions), I just didn’t get around to it. That means this was my first test in five years, and my next one will arrive in 2025 (maybe August, again?). At any rate, it’s great to get that off the agenda.

One thing that's not necessarily obvious about me sharing the test results is why I shared it at all: There’s a promotion campaign designed to get people to do the screening test, and there are plenty of lighthearted “poo” jokes and puns throughout the TV ad (like I did in my Facebook post; more are in the YouTube video I shared in last year's blog post). The point of the ad campaign is to de-stigmatise the test (and subject), and to normalise people looking after their own health. The test can catch many bowel cancers early, often before there are any noticeable symptoms. By posting about my own participation in the test, I hope to do my part to encourage others to do the test and to talk about.

Last week, too, I finally made it to the vampires for my annual bloodletting (the routine blood tests I get done every year). The same day I posted my bowel screening sample, I tried to fo the vampires’ closest location to my house, but there was absolutely no parking available, so I skipped it and went to the supermarket instead.

So, I decided that Friday was the day. I thought I should to go to the vampires on the other side of the city because there’s always parking at the shopping centre where it’s located. Unfortunately, I just wasn’t feeling it (poor sleep for a week, broken by some of the weirdest dreams I’ve ever had). I decided to try the vampires close to my house again.

The parking didn’t look and better Friday, but then I glanced over at the detached shop next door and noticed it was vacant (the shop had closed and moved out), and that meant their car parks were available (a few other folks also worked that out). I finally had my blood removed, then again went to the supermarket.

There were two other things I shared about the trip on Friday. First, I added a comment that mentioned the graffiti I saw when I went to the same vampires last year (a photo is at the link). It was actually on back wall of the now-empty shop, but the wall had been repainted solid brown, possibly recently because there was no graffiti. The other thing was at the end of my Facebook post, and somewhat cryptic. I wrote:

I had one of the bagels I’de bought, and I’m pleased to report that it didn’t try to kill me, like the ones I got a couple weeks ago. I suppose I should tell that tale sometime.

I actually expect to write such a blog post, but I have a few more things to evaluate in the AmeriNZ Test Kitchen.

Finally, last week was the fifth anniversary of when I was in Middlemore hospital again. They ended up shocking my heart back into sinus rhythm, then put me on a—and dangerous—drug to keep the rhythm normal. I posted about this on Facebook at the time, writing:

So, I’ve won another all-expenses paid trip to Middlemore Resort and Spa. This time it’s for a fast irregular heart beat. Not life threatening by itself, but annoying and uncomfortable. They’ll keep me overnight to monitor me, then in the morning doctors/cardiologist will suggest way forward so the afib is under control and my heart doesn’t race. In the meantime, nurses and doctors are awesome, as always, and not paid enough IMHO. Also, today I learned that Nigel loves me more than “Game of Thrones” (he was with me all day), so apart from that racing heart thing, not all bad today. 🙂

Of course, a mere four months later, my heart was broken when Nigel died, but it kept beating despite all the reasons I really thought it might not, The fifth horrible anniversary is now only a four months away.

A bit more than 19 months after the trip to Middlemore, and just under 15 months after Nigel died, I finally got the cryoablation procedure at Waikato Hospital, and that fixed my heart rhythm problem. This means that the cardiologists were right: I really was a good candidate for the procedure, and only needed one procedure (people sometimes need several treatments. They stopped the dangerous drug I’d been on as soon as the procedure was completed.

Even though it’s been nearly three and a half years since the cryoablation procedure, I still worry, in a low-key sort of way, that the rhythm problem may return, and that’s mostly because Nigel’s no longer here to get me through it. Of course there are other folks, but that’s not the point: Nigel isn’t here, and he’s the one person I’d want with me the most. Of course. After all, five years ago he gave up “Game of Thrones” to be with me! The truth is, he loved that show and it really did mean the world to me that he stayed with me.

There was one more thing about this story, something more lighthearted than the memory of five years ago and the horrible anniversary that’s looming. That other thing is clearly vital in these modern times: I learned to take a selfie the right way around, so everything’s not backwards in the photo I shared on Facebook five years ago, but not here. Actually, “learned” is a bit generous: I googled it—and then promptly forgot what I did. Some things don’t change. The photo as it should have been posted in 2019 is at right.

My health is sound at the moment—and all we can ever count on is one moment at a time. I’ll take that good thing. There’s a very good update to this story: So far, that 2019 stay at Middlemore was—again, so far—the last time I was in hospital, after several different stays—so far (I don’t want to tempt fate!). The cryoablation procedure was just a day procedure.

Last week I made several different posts on my personal Facebook about things related to my health (among other things). There will be more health stuff this week. Maybe be I’ll actually post about them here, and on time. Even I’m curious to see what happens.

Tooth telling

Today was part two of my most recent adventures in dentistry, but it’s now just a part of routine maintenance, descended from, but not part of, the old Tooth Tales series of posts I did. That series began in April of 2014, and ended, undramatically and pretty much unceremoniously, in May 2021, when I began routine maintenance—like most people have.

Last week’s appointment, despite my error-born confusion over when, precisely, it was, went well in most respects. My x-rays looked good, and the dentist saw no issues. They hygienist then did the “industrial tooth-scraping”, as I call it with mocking exaggeration, and in the process found a quite deep pocket had formed at the base on one tooth that hadn’t had a pocket before. Uh oh.

Such a thing could be caused by a fracture in the root, however, I’d felt no pain, and such a thing is painful. Maybe it was a tooth’s version of a hairline crack? Or, maybe nothing sinister at all? Further investigation was necessary.

This morning, I went back to my dentist who first took x-rays of the roots of that particular tooth—more detailed and specific than the general lot he took last week. And here, a side note: I’m still always surprised at how fast modern dental x-ray technology is, going from a beep to to an image on the computer in seconds. I remember when they used film, which required a much longer exposure and then the film had to be developed, and it wasn’t digital. My dentist mentioned that he had to learn that as part of his dental training, though he’s never actually had to do it that way. He said he also liked how modern x-ray technology exposed the patient to dramatically less radiation. I share his enthusiasm for that fact.

Fortunately, it turned out that there’s no sign of a crack or other defect in the tooth (apart from fillings, which are fine). He did tests that determined that the tooth itself is sound, and the specific x-rays of the tooth’s roots showed no damage, which was reinforced by the fact I’d never had any pain whatsoever. The most likely explanation is that it’s just another result of my ongoing gum disease (it can’t be cured, and for me, anyway, it can only be managed). So, the best thing for now is to watch it, and, fortunately, my next hygienist appointment is in only six months.

Due to my own fault/lack of care, the dental disease has been a bit worse than it otherwise should be. That’s because sometime after two cleanings ago, I stopped using the little little interdental brushes to help keep calculus at the gumline under control, and so, it was able to make more hospitable places for bacteria to move in to set up house, destroying bone tissue and forming pockets. I have no defence for my lack of attention to using those little brushes, what I knew only too well is my best defence against the calculus and bacteria, and so, the best way to the deal with the ongoing problem. However, there’s a reason this happened, and that’s directly related the Weltschmerz I’ve been dealing with off and on over the past couple years—fix one, perhaps fix the other?

At any rate, so far I’ve been good about using those little interdental brushes again—though I only resumed using them less than a week ago, so… yay me, I guess. The scare with the tooth/pocket may help persuade me to be even more determined to persevere with those little brushes, and to be as regular in using them as I used to be before the Bad Times of 2021 began.

There was one last thing about this already unusually complicated dental maintenance story: Thanks to a Facebook “Memory”, I found out that I first saw the dentist three years ago yesterday. When I told the dentist that, he said, “happy anniversary—where’s the cake?” It’s a bonus when a healthcare professional has a similar sense of humour to me.

Time to do it again

It’s that time again: Time for my latest test in the National Bowel Screening Programme, something that’s sent every two years to Kiwis between the ages of 60 and 75 (for Māori and Pasifika people, it’s ages 50 to 75). However, I last did the test back in 2019, and the results were negative. I received my latest kit (above) this past Monday.

However, I didn’t do the test in 2021. I got the kit (and still have it somewhere…), but I think the reason I didn’t do it at the time was because of lockdowns or other Covid-related things going on, and then, as usual, I just plain forgot. This year, though I’m definitely doing it.

One factor that’s still in play is the dwindling number of agents for NZ Post. The company has closed most of their own PostShops, and uses agents for the services they used to provide, and one of three agents in the northwestern part of Hamilton closed last year. Of the two remaining, one is a place I tried to ring NZ Post to complain about, but the wait was too long. That leaves only the other place, so it’ll have to do. The issue is that I need to post the kit back to the ministry of health, and there are very few places to do that any more, the agents probably being the only places where it's possible to post anything.

At any rate, I think the programme is a good idea, and important to poo—I mean, do it…

This is a TV commercial promoting the test that’s been running for about a year:

The ‘end’ of Covid

At one minute past midnight last night, the New Zealand Government ended all remaining Covid restrictions. This means that Kiwis testing positive for Covid will no longer be required to isolate for seven days, and requirement that all visitors to health care facilities wear face masks also ended. In essence, life in New Zealand for most people is now completely back to “normal”, like what it was in the pre-Covid times.

In announcing the change, the Minister of Health, Dr Ayesha Verrall, said, “While our case numbers will continue to fluctuate, we have not seen the dramatic peaks that characterised COVID-19 rates last year.” The Government also pointed out that the levels of the virus detected in wastewater, and also the number of hospitalisations related to Covid, have been trending downwards since the beginning of June, and also that over the past month the number of cases of Covid reported have hit their lowest levels since February 2022. All of which is very good news.

The Government conducted a massive advertising campaign to encourage New Zealanders to get this year’s influenza vaccination, and that seems to have helped take some of the strain off the healthcare system. I received my influenza and Covid booster shots back on May 30.

I think today's change is a sensible move, not the least because—if we’re truly honest—plenty of people (probably most) were ignoring the last remaining rules, anyway. On the evening news last night, a mask-wearing person talked about how even though there were signs telling people to wear a mask when entering her healthcare facility, few did. Last June, I went for my routine blood tests and wore a mask. While I was there, a woman came in—not wearing a mask. As I was leaving, a different woman who appeared to be my age or somewhat older, entered, also not wearing a mask. I didn’t take mine off until I was outside and walking toward my car.

A few days after my blood tests, I had an appointment at my doctor’s office. It was simply to check my blood pressure and weight, which hadn’t been measured (officially, that is…) in several years. I wore a mask, of course, and from what I could see, the patients there did, too—more or less. One older man was wearing his more like a chin strap, and the masks of others didn’t seem completely seated properly. In other words, compliance with the rule looked to me to be sort of half-hearted—at a doctors practice, no less, a place with sick people in it.

This being an election year, TV journalists asked if the relaxed requirements were some sort of election ploy. I mean, of course the people who hate Labour to the very core of their being because of the Government’s sound, fact-based response to Covid would suddenly completely change their minds about Labour simply because the Government removed the last two restrictions. Sometimes the idiocy of journalists is absolutely breathtaking.

Other, more rationally-inclined journalists asked health officials if it was sensible to relax the requirements while it's still winter, the season with the most respiratory illness. That absolutely was a fair question, and there were differing opinions in the answers, as one would expect. However, with the Covid-related demands on the public health system far lower than has been the case in a very long time, and with Spring beginning just over two weeks from now, it seems to me that this is as good a time as any, and many healthcare professionals agree with it. Will the change “help” Labour’s election campaign? Of course not—but neither will it hurt them. I’ve seen with my own eyes how many people are completely over the restrictions, anyway, and they have been for quite some time.

I’m someone who’s considered at higher risk of bad outcomes if I catch Covid (or influenza, for that matter), and even I can see the sense of ending the last restrictions. We’ve all moved on, and the Government is really just catching up. Clearly some TV journalists have some catching-up to do, too.

Resetting my healthcare gauges

I’ve had a small healthcare adventure over the past few days, and it was all routine, and also necessary. The results of it all were interesting beyond the obvious reason.

The story began the middle of last week when I sent through a prescription renewal request to my doctor. I’d received the last month’s supply of my current prescription, and I the pharmacy was reminding me to organise a new prescription.

On Thursday of last week, I got a text from the doctor’s office telling me he wanted me to come in to get weighed and have my blood pressure taken, and that they’d sent an order for blood tests to the company that does them. I rang the office to schedule an appointment to come in for the measurements, and that was set for the following Monday.

On Friday, I went to the vampires to have the blood drawn—after checking what locations were open because, due to “severe staffing shortages”, several locations were closed—including the one located in the medical offices where my doctor is located. I also was reminded that because the place is considered a health care facility, masks are required: It was the first time I’d worn a mask in months—maybe a year or so?

Over the weekend, I checked the doctor’s patient portal to see if my blood tests were posted, but they weren’t. The doctor has to review them before they’re posted, and because I got the blood drawn on Friday afternoon, I thought it might’ve been delayed. Normally, an afternoon visit wouldn’t be a problem, but maybe those “severe staffing shortages” were causing problems?

I went in for my appointment on Monday morning: It was the first time I’d been inside the facility in a just over two years. Due to the pressures from Covid, medical practices discouraged in-person visits for routine reasons in order to free up capacity for people who were sick. Since my last actual visit, I had a phone consultation with my doctor in April of last year, and we’ve traded secure messages through the patient portal in between times.

On Monday, my blood pressure was a little high, which was probably “white coat syndrome”, because when it was last taken in office around three years ago it was similar, and both were higher than what I measure at home (my home measurements are normal for me at my age).

My weight was also around the same as last time it was measured there (same time as my BP), though I was roughly a kilogram heavier, which was still fine because of my height.

Speaking of height, I’m measurably shrinking: I’m a massive 1.5cm shorter than I was in 2016, the last time I recorded my height in the Health app on my iPhone (and, for the avoidance of doubt, yes, I’m being sarcastic: 1.5cm is about 3/5 of an inch, and, yes, I’m aware that nearly all of us get shorter as we age—thanks, gravity, thanks a lot!).

The nurse said that she’d seen some of the blood test results, which at a glance looked fine. My bloods have been fine for years, something I know because I made a spreadsheet with all my blood test results going back more than a decade. I knew my doctor would tell me if anything wasn’t okay.

The nurse was also impressed that I have many years of measurements of my vitals (mostly BP and heart rate), and that I have all those blood test results. I also used to weigh myself every Friday and record it, and I did that for at least 15 years, but I stopped some time in the last 5 years because, it turns out, not even I can obsessively collect data on everything…

Finally, at 7:53 this morning, I got a text from my doctor: “Hi Arthur, I am pleased to tell you that all your blood tests are okay…” I joked on Facebook, “So, I’m the very picture of good health—assuming the picture is like that one of Dorian Gray…”

However, the reality is that, taken together, the results of this latest little health adventure really are all good. There are still things that can be improved, of course—aren’t there always?—and this obviously doesn’t mean there won’t be new problems that come along in the future, but right now my existing physical health issues are under control and the general indicators are currently okay. All we’re ever assured of is the very moment we’re in, and that just happened to be an excellent moment.

This small healthcare adventure over the past few days was routine, but also necessary to keep tabs on how I’m doing. The results of it all were interesting precisely because things are okay: With everything that’s happened over the past several years, it’s easy for me to worry about what the state of my health is or may become. This adventure kind of re-set my gauges, so to speak, so my awareness of my own physical health is again re-grounded in reality, and that’s good, too—and in some ways, it’s every bit as important as the results themselves.

AmeriNZ Podcast episode 383 is now available

AmeriNZ Podcast episode 383, “Crabby jabby”, is now available from the podcast website. There, you can listen, download or subscribe to the podcast episode, along with any other episode.

The five most recent episodes of the podcast are listed on the sidebar on the right side of this blog.

Tooth scraping and a sore arm

This morning was my twice-yearly teeth scraping. I added on two other stops to complete the day. And my arm was sore when I was done.

The visit with the dental hygienist wasn’t nearly as bad as I expected—which isn’t to suggest it was “good”, just not as bad as I’d thought it would be. The dental practice is located in a medical complex that includes a pharmacy, and that’s where I got my last Covid booster back in August. This time, I got my annual influenza vaccination and also the bivalent Covid booster vaccination.

The vaccinations were beginning to become critical: Winter starts on Thursday (June 1), and that means colder weather and more illness of all sorts will abound. I’m considered at higher risk for potentially bad outcomes from two diseases if I were to catch them: Influenza and Covid.

Influenza isn’t what lots of people call “the flu”, which is often just a bad cold. Influenza is a viral infection of the respiratory system that can cause life-threatening Illness, especially among people deemed at higher risk. Influenza vaccines are free for people 65 and older (and Māori and Pacific Island people over 55), along with people at higher risk—like me.

The reason I get a free influenza vaccination at my extraordinarily young age of 64 is that my ischaemic heart disease (aka coronary artery disease), especially combined with hypertension, puts me at risk. The vaccine we get immunised against multiple strains of the virus based on scientists’ best guess on what strains we’re likely to see in New Zealand, and that’s based in part on what the Northern Hemisphere had in its recent winter.

The Covid vaccine now available is the bivalent, which boosts protection from the original strains in NZ, plus immunises against the newer, more communicable strains (easier to catch, but less serious, apparently). The qualifications for the jab I got today include the person being over 30 or at higher risk (like me). It’s also available after at least six months since a Covid booster shot or positive test result. This was my fifth Covid jab.

The reason I got the vaccinations is partly what I was talking about in my post about getting leg cramp the other day: It’s the sheer terror I can (and do) feel when facing the possibility of a serious health challenge alone. I wasn’t like this when Nigel was alive—of course—and so far it’s mainly been fear of the unknown, what could happen. To be fair, I worry about sudden heart problems (as in, needing to call an ambulance serious) or a serious accident far more than I worry about some possible disease I may never catch. Even so, having to face a big health challenge alone is, for me, one if the worst things about being a widower.

To deal with that, I essentially try to minimise risk. First, I do my best to eat a more or less healthy plant-centred diet (which is why I normally eat little meat, apart from some chicken and occasional fish, which is the sort of diet my various GPs have always recommended for me. Second, I’m always really careful when I work on any projects where I could get badly hurt. I find that extremely challenging because my lack of focus makes it hard to be truly mindful of what I’m doing in a particular moment. Still, it’s worked so far. The third thing is to keep myself fully vaccinated.

For the first time in my life, being an introvert is an advantage in all this: I don’t like being around crowds of strangers (they exhaust me), so I avoid unnecessary trips to the shops (for example, I make one trip to a home centre to pick up several things, rather than lots of trips for just one thing at a time). This allows me to minimise my possible exposure to infected people—not eliminate, obviously, just minimise.

Beyond that, I can monitor my “vitals”, so I should be able to detect a problem as it develops, while I can still act. None of that takes away the fear caused by the worry I may need to face a health crisis alone, but managing risk certainly makes it easier to live with.

While I was at the chemist, I asked the pharmacist about a supplement to help me ward off leg cramp. He said they recommend magnesium, and in talking with him he suggested I take a time-release formulation and at dinner to maximise my protection overnight. He also said I’d need to give it a month to see if it helps, but I hardly ever get leg cramp, so… maybe I won’t actually know? Maybe it’s be a realisation, “huh—I haven;t had leg cramp in years”. I can work with that.

When I was done, I popped into the nearby supermarket on my way home.

I got home midday-ish, had lunch, then did a few things, but then I started to feel a bit poorly, kind of like after my first or second Covid jab (I forget which). I took a long nap and felt better afterward, but I still took paracetamol (as recommended) along with drinking lots of water. By early evening, I had a really sore arm. They can do both shots in one arm if we want, and I chose that so I can sleep on my other side (I mostly sleep on my right side), but, ouchies!

So far, so good—though it’s still possible I may have a bad reaction like I did back in August. That time, the worst of the lot, made me feel so awful I was pretty sure that I wouldn’t get another jab, though this one isn’t the same as the last one, and there’s been more time between them than there was before the one back in August.

Basically, my survival instincts outweighed my desire to avoid feeling sick, and maybe this will work out fine. I should know in the morning.

As long as I don’t feel sick in the middle of the night this time, a sore arm is probably an acceptable trade-off.

A mere three years ago

Three years ago today, at 11:59pm, New Zealand went under the first Covid lockdown. Like so many things, it feels like it was far longer ago than that, and also maybe far less time. So much has changed since then, not just the deaths and suffering, but also the rise of a persistent, aggressive negativism: People now seem to delight in being grumpy, contrary, mean-spirited, and judgmental. To paraphrase Dr. Julian Bashir on Star Trek: Deep Space 9, people seem to have resolved to look every gift horse squarely in the mouth, and to look for the cloud around every silver lining.

From those early days of solidarity and goodwill, things degenerated into partisan political fights, with those on the right particularly keen to use the pandemic as a justification for all their bizarre conspiracy theories, no matter how unhinged or detached from the real world, and as reason to oppose everything the centre and left proposed, no matter how rational or common sense it may have been.

We saw this play out in their aggressive behaviour, from bullying workers in supermarkets, or masked customers in any shop, to their illegal occupation of Parliament grounds, other “protest” stunts that put people’s lives at risk, and, especially, in the vile rumours, disgusting personal attacks, and credible death threats they aimed at former Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern. Ardern became their enemy because she dared to try to keep New Zealanders safe and alive in the face of a pandemic that, three years ago today, we knew precious little about.

Psychologists have written about the emotional and psychological toll that the pandemic took on people, made worse by the lack of availability of mental health help, and that’s certainly true. They’ve also commented on the role that social media has played in the rise of the aggressive negativism we see today, and the disinformation and conspiracy theories underlying much of it. That, too, is true. But surely at some level we’re masters of our own ship, and the enemy isn’t those who tried to keep us safe, however imperfectly they sometimes did that, it’s ourselves. As Walt Kelly’s Pogo put in 1971, “We have met the enemy, and he is us” [VIEW].

So many people would be much better off if they stayed away from social media, at least sometimes, and if they just ignored whatever l'indignation du jour might be—chances are it’s all bullshit, anyway. Most people know all that: Once the restrictions put in place to fight Covid were relaxed, they just got on with life again, and they didn’t keep falling down the social media doom spirals that a tiny but aggressive minority still live within. We all have the same choice choice: To live in the light or dwell in the darkness.

Today, three years after this began in New Zealand, the day has been a beautiful and bright sunny one at my house. I had plenty of starkly ordinary things to do today, and I didn’t have the time—or room—for the negativist zeitgeist. I wish the same for everyone. We all need more light and less darkness.

Prescribing changes

Sometimes, a solution to a problem will simply fall into our laps. Back in June, I wrote about the problems I was having with a very simple thing: Finding the right pharmacy. For now, at least, I have a solution.

The first problem was that I wanted an easily accessible pharmacy, meaning, close to my house and open seven days. That’s because I have to go every month to pick up a refill of one prescription drug (the others each come with three-month supply; this has to do with the way theone drug’s funded by the government’s Pharmaceutical Management Agency, better known as Pharmac). As I said in June, that wasn’t as easy as it should have been.

When Lockdown re-arrived in August, I had my GP send the prescription to the chemist I used to go to, near the GP practice. What I forgot is that under Level 4, as we were at the time, they dispensed prescriptions for one month at a time. I had to go back there two more times—exactly what I was trying to avoid.

Last month, it was getting to be time to renew my prescriptions, and I was debating about where to have my GP send the order. I was leaning toward the pharmacy at the local Countdown supermarket, but the truth is, I don’t really like it.

Then, at nearly the last possible moment, I got an email from a store I’d ordered stuff from online. The email was to tell me that the store’s parent company, The Warehouse Group, had invested in a NZ online pharmacy called ZOOM Pharmacy. What drew me to them (apart from the fact they’re New Zealand-owned) was they they delivered the refills. Like the two Australian chains I considered, they don’t charge the usual $5 per prescription, but there was something else: Anyone like me getting four or more different prescription drugs got free delivery and could have them prepared in pouches, one day’s pills per pouch (if one has to take pills at different times, then all the pills for each time are put in different pouches; mine are once a day).

I decided to try the pharmacy, as I mentioned briefly last month, and with a little effort, I managed to use my doctor’s portal to request the prescription be sent to ZOOM, which they did. Then I had to speak with a pharmacist at ZOOM who verified my address, that the medications ordered were correct, and then he offered to answer any questions I might have.

It turns out that a couple weeks after the first order, they send out a text alerting people that their next order will soon be shipped and to let them know if anything’s changed. I received that text yesterday. I don’t have to do anything—the pills come to me, and completely for free, and they’ll email me a tracking number so I can check to see how far away the order is.

I knew that not having to deal with picking up a monthly refill of one medication would save me time and effort, but having it sent to me automatically would be better still. Better still, because of those pouches, I no longer have to count out all my pills once a week, and that saves me time, too. So far, it’s worked great.

I had a few issues at first, especially that the pouch in the photo up top [Note: The photo may be missing due to a problem with Google's Blogger – the issue is now resolved]. It was from day 2, and when I tore off the pouch for that day, I accidentality tore off a bit of the bottom of the Day 3 pouch (the little bit of plastic at the top of the pouch in the photo). I couldn’t tell if I’d made a little hole in the bottom of the Day 3 pouch, and because I didn’t want to take any chances (one pill has to be kept dry), I took Day 3’s pills on Day 2, then Day 2’s on Day 3. Crisis averted. Since then, I learned that if I tear the pouch down, not up, the problem doesn’t happen.

This has turned out to be a really good solution so far—and I’m definitely glad I waited a little longer to choose a pharmacy for my prescription to be sent to. I wish more companies did as gooda job—heck, even half as good.

Meanwhile, in that Health Journey update post last month, I also said I’d stop taking the diuretic I was on, bendroflumethiazide. I weaned myself off of it and stopped altogether a couple weeks ago. I think there are signs of the improvement I hoped for.

It’s important to repeat what I said last month, that “I know from experience that it often can take a long time for me to adjust to new prescriptions”, and that’s also true for stopping medications, too. That means that it’s early days yet, and things may not yet be settled, however, there’s definitely one important change: I no longer have the urgency to run to pee, and I don’t have to get up in the night to go pee, either. This is truly awesome.

For the first week or so after I stopped, I didn’t notice much difference with those headrushes, the weird unwell spells, or the fatigue. However, they all definitely seem better now, although the last one is the least changed (mainly, I just don’t feel as sleepy in the daytime, but I’m still tired all the time).

All of which means that things have become better since my Health Journey update last month. I (cautiously) think I’m feeling better than a month ago, although I can definitely say that the waterworks are now lightyears better. I’m also very happy with the pharmacy choice I made.

I’ve been dealing with this long enough to know that everything could still change—for the better or for worse. Right now, it’s a case of “so far, so good”, and after everything I’ve gone through over the past five years, I honestly feel that’s good enough. For now.

Important notes: This is about my own personal health journey. My experiences are my own, and shouldn’t be taken as indicative for anyone else. Similarly, other people may have completely different reactions to the same medications I take—better or worse. I share my experiences because others may have the same or similar experiences, and I want them to know that they’re not alone. But, as always, discuss your situation and how you’re feeling openly, honestly, and clearly with your own doctor, and always feel free to seek a second opinion from another doctor.

Also: The names of brands/products/companies listed in this post are all registered trademarks, and are used here for purposes of description and clarity. No company or entity provided any support or payment for this blog post, and all products/services were purchased by me, if applicable, at normal consumer prices. So, the opinions I expressed are my own genuinely held opinions, and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the manufacturers, any retailer, or any known human being, alive or dead, real or corporate. Just so we’re clear.

More changes in the hope of progress

More than two months ago, I talked about my online consultation with the cardiologist, and about where things were heading. There are new developments and once again—despite a personal history that should convince me otherwise—I’m hopeful.

I’m in the process of making two big changes, the first of which is by far the most important: I decided to stop taking the diuretic, bendroflumethiazide. The cardiologist prescribed that for me at my post-ablation consultation back in July in order to help control my blood pressure, however, I didn’t start taking it until after my second Covid jab, which was on August 17—the same day New Zealand went under a Level 4 Lockdown because of the emergence of the Delta Variant. I started taking the new drugs two days later, on August 19—and it did not go at all well.

By the time I met (virtually) with the cardiologist the following Tuesday (August 24), I was feeling better. It didn’t last.

I know from experience that it often can take a long time for me to adjust to new prescriptions, so I was willing to wait things out. In the weeks that followed, I felt very, very tired—sleepy, even—much of the time. It was a different kind of tired than before: Instead of lacking energy to do much, I instead felt like all I wanted to do was have a nap. That wasn’t necessarily every day, but it was frequent.

Worse, I frequently had severe (for me…) head-rushes and lightheadedness, something that rarely happened to me in the past. When they happened, I had to stop wherever I was, grab something to steady myself, breathe slowly and deeply, with my my eyes closed until the wave passed. I hated every second of that. This can happen when blood pressure is too low, and I was on two drugs to control my BP, so, to me, the additional drug was the likely culprit.

The thing that affected my life the most, though, was the sudden and urgent need to find a toilet. Ordinarily, I might become aware that I needed to pee, and I could finish what I was doing and then head to the loo. But under this drug I’d have that awareness and then a split second later it became urgent or I’d risk wetting my pants. I got around that by making sure I didn’t have even as much as a sip of water for at least an hour before leaving the house, and even then I tried to get back home as fast as I could because public toilets are closed during a Lockdown. Not surprisingly, I didn’t leave the house very much.

I had one other thing that kept recurring: Frequent bouts of feeling very unwell. I could “feel” my heart beating, mostly because I’d feel very anxious. It’s a feeling very similar to tachycardia, so I’d take my blood pressure and almost always found that it was too low. For example, it happened this past Monday and in the midst of it my BP was 107/69. A brief nap helped me feel better. The thing about this is that it might be caused by the diuretic, or by my new main blood pressure medicine, enalapril, because that’s also new and different. I wish I hadn’t started taking them both at the same time because then I’d know for sure if one or the other changed things negatively for me. However, there’s also the possibility that something else entirely is going on.

First, I may have other heart rhythm problems. Back in June, I talked about how I was getting home ECG readings marked as “Unclassified” or even “Possible Afib”. Both my GP and cardiologist said it looked like ectopic beats, and in my post-ablation consultation he told me that I might have extra beats or skipped beats, so an echocardiogram would be a good idea because I last had one back in July of 2018, and I’ve had the ablation and many changed prescriptions since then. I was due to get that new echocardiogram in August, but Lockdown stopped that (they don’t do them under Level 4 or 3). So, that question is still unexplored.

There’s another, entirely different, thing that could be behind this: Lockdown. I live alone (with Leo, of course), and there weren’t many places I could go until the Waikato went under Level 3, Step 2 (things are much better now). It’s entirely possible that Lockdown, combined with grieving the loss of my soulmate, could’ve affected my mental/emotional health. I honestly don’t think so, but it can’t be ruled out, either.

So, the logical thing to do right now is to eliminate one of the possible culprits, bendroflumethiazide. It may turn out that it wasn’t the cause of my extreme tiredness and weird unwell spells, however, the ways the drug definitely affects me are reason enough to stop taking it. I decided to wean myself off of it because I seem to be much more sensitive to prescriptions than I used to be. For the next few days I’m taking half a tablet, and then I’ll take a quarter tablet for a couple days after that before stopping it altogether. It may not be necessary, but it makes me feel safer doing that, and that’s important.

All of which leads to an inevitable question: If I’ve felt so unwell, and endured the unpleasant effects of this drug, why have I stayed on it so long? Part of that, I have to admit, is my usual stubbornness: I didn’t want the unused pills to go to waste. But the far bigger reason is that much of the time I felt more or less okay, and I honestly thought I might eventually feel better. Also, the lethargy caused and sustained by Lockdown probably encouraged that kind of thinking. Next week I’ll run out of the drug, so this was the perfect time to drop it—and to finally motivate me to contact my GP about doing so.

The final change I’m making is to try using a NZ-owned online-only pharmacy for my prescriptions, something I’ll talk about next week when my first order arrives. That might sound like a very minor change, but it could end up making my life much easier. I hope dropping the diuretic makes my life much easier to live, too.

Important note: This is about my own personal health journey. My experiences are my own, and shouldn’t be taken as indicative for anyone else. Similarly, other people may have completely different reactions to the same medications I take—better or worse. I share my experiences because others may have the same or similar experiences, and I want them to know that they’re not alone. But, as always, discuss your situation and how you’re feeling openly, honestly, and clearly with your own doctor, and always feel free to seek a second opinion from another doctor.

Modern medicine

Yesterday I took part in something that’s currently one of the mainstays of routine medicine: I had an online consultation. It wasn’t the first time I couldn’t see a doctor in person because of a Covid Lockdown, but the results were still good.

Last year, Lockdown hit shortly after I sold the last house that Nigel and I shared, and it was only after that I started to focus on settling into living in Hamilton. Among other things, that meant I needed a doctor in Hamilton, but I couldn’t get a new doctor under Level 4 or 3. So, I set up a phone consultation with my last GP in Auckland, mainly so she could write me prescriptions to tide me over until I could get signed up with a new doctor. I also wanted a chance to sort of close that chapter, to thank her for her care and also caring: She was the last GP to treat Nigel, and she was supportive of me after he died. That phone call was the first time I’d had a true not-in-person consultation with a doctor, something the Covid Alert Level made necessary.

Here we are in August 2021, under Alert Level 4 Lockdown, and most in-person consultations are suspended. This was a problem because I was having problems with my new prescriptions, and I faced having to deal with it virtually.

On July 16, I saw the cardiologist for my follow-up at Waikato Hospital, and he changed my prescriptions, which I was expecting. First, he again prescribed the blood thinner/anticoagulant Rivaroxaban. He’d already prescribed that last October when I saw him before my cardiac ablation procedure was scheduled. I started taking that drug last July.

There were two other drugs he prescribed. First, there was a new blood pressure medication because my current one is being discontinued. It’s an ACE inhibitor called enalapril. The other drug was a diuretic called bendroflumethiazide. I put off taking those two drugs for reasons I explained earlier this month.

I further delayed starting the new drugs until after my Covid vaccinations were done, especially because I felt quite unwell the first day after the first one. I didn’t want to risk feeling unwell because of my second jab and adjusting to new prescriptions. I started the last two prescriptions on Thursday. It. Did. NOT. Go Well.

For the first four days, sometime in the first hour after taking the drugs, and for 3 to 4 hours after that, I felt the worst I’ve felt in longer than I can remember. I felt dizzy/lightheaded, not enough to make me fall over, but enough to make me feel nauseous (not actually sick, or at risk of becoming so, but enough to be miserable) constantly. My whole body also felt weary—not tired or sleepy, but weary. I sat in my chair for the entire four hours (except when I had to go to the toilet—thanks, diuretics) because I just couldn’t do anything else.

I was absolutely miserable. I cried a lot, unsure what to do because I was unable to focus enough to work out a plan. By the third day, I was dreading the storm to follow, so I decided (especially after talking to my sister-in-law) to contact my GP to get advice.

I sat down that night and wrote out all the details, provided a list of the blood pressure readings I’d been getting at home—and then didn’t send it. In thinking about it more during the part of the day I felt not as bad, I realised my GP would need to consult with the cardiologist, anyway, and I was due to see him on August 31. I knew that wasn’t going to happen due to Lockdown, but since I wanted to ring them anyway to find out what to do about rescheduling, I figured I could go direct to the source.

As it happens, his office rang me the next morning, Monday, when I was still cleaning up after breakfast. His practice administrator told me that because they couldn’t do consultations in person under Alert Levels 4 or 3, the cardiologist was offering consultations over Zoom if I was interested. I was, and it was set up for the next day, yesterday.

About the same time, I noticed something: The 3 to 4 hour hell wasn’t setting in that day. It didn’t on Tuesday, either. Or today. Apparently the adjustment is complete.

My consultation went well, and he said he didn’t need to see me again unless something pops up that needs follow-up (like after the echocardiogram I’ll get done when Alert Levels permit). Otherwise, my GP can take it from here.

He also said, as he did in July, that he wasn’t really all that worried about me taking the diuretic, and if symptoms continued to bother me, I could go ahead and stop it—being sure to let my GP know I was doing that and also making sure I monitored my blood pressure.

All the medication is aimed mainly at keeping my blood pressure lower to reduce the risk of Afib returning. I asked him about lifestyle changes like losing weight, and he said it would definitely help. The thing is, part of the reason that I’ve put on weight is that for several years I’ve been too tired to do anything physical, and even just walks would help. But, as I also said to him, I mainly need to take in fewer calories (something I’ve been doing better about, actually).

Related to that, actually, I also asked him about alcohol and those drugs, and he said he wasn’t aware of any evidence that drinking alcohol with the new drugs could cause a sudden drop in blood pressure (I knew that the diuretic increases the risk of bad hangovers, even on relatively modest alcohol consumption, because alcohol itself is dehydrating, and that’d be on top of the diuretic potentially doing the same). This is related because the main reason I’m not keen on drinking alcohol is that it’s empty calories—admittedly ones with pleasant results, but empty nonetheless. If I’m trying to reduce calories, then avoiding alcohol is an easy way to do that.

So, apparently the adjustment period for all the new drugs is over, and, so far, everything seems to be settling down. It’s too early to say that all the new drugs are as good or (hopefully) better than the old ones, but so far they seem to be at least as good (except for Rivaroxaban, which I think I can now say is definitely is better than dabigatran was).

Onward.

Important note: This is about my own personal health journey. My experiences are my own, and shouldn’t be taken as indicative for anyone else. Similarly, other people may have completely different reactions to the same medications I take—better or worse. I share my experiences because others may have the same or similar experiences, and I want them to know that they’re not alone. But, as always, discuss your situation and how you’re feeling openly, honestly, and clearly with your own doctor, and always feel free to seek a second opinion from another doctor.

Fully vaccinated, but…

Today I had my second jab of the Pfizer Covid-19 vaccination, so I’m now fully vaccinated. The photo above is my selfie after my jab. When I shared that to Instagram (and so, Facebook), I said:

Second Covid vaccine jab done! Process was VERY fast! Glad to take responsibility for protecting myself, my whānau, and my community, both in Kirikiriroa/Hamilton and all of Aotearoa New Zealand, too. Also very relieved, tbh. Took a long time to get the jab, but just glad to get it at all when so many people in the world haven’t. Onward!

I was extraordinarily fast, too. I arrived early, at 3:24pm, and got my jab about 10 minutes later, and then left 20 minutes after that (there’s a mandatory 20 minute post-jab waiting time). So, I was all done in maybe half an hour—a fraction of the amount of time that the first jab took.

Right after I sat down in the observation area, I posted to my personal Facebook:

That was FAST! All jabbed and now in the observation area—MAYBE ten minutes (probably less) all up from arriving to sitting down after. All staff friendly and helpful, just like for jab one. Awesomeness!

And it truly was an awesome experience! Afterwards, I went to the foodcourt for an early dinner—a very disappointing beef burrito. When I left, I tried various backroads to help me avoid the rush hour traffic when heading home. It took a few different tries to find the road that went through, but I got found the route, and ig I’m heading home between say 3:30 and 6pm, it’ll save me a lot of time. I’ve been meaning to work out an alternative route for awhile now, and this afternoon I thought, “why not?”.

I symbolically brought Nigel with me…

However, on my way to my vaccination appointment, I was listening to the radio and they mentioned that there was a case of Covid-19 in Auckland, and that the Prime Minister would be holding a press conference around 6pm. “Uh, oh!” was my first thought, because last week that the Government announced, “It is more likely that we would end up with a short, sharp move to Covid-19 alert level 4 for either the affected area or the whole country, depending on the circumstances, in the event that we saw a case of Covid-19 emerge.” I knew what was coming.

As I drove, I thought I should go over to the supermarket after my jab—isn’t that everyone’s first thought when a lockdown may be imminent? But I immediately realised I’d done my big shop the end of last week, and I had enough to last maybe two weeks without re-stocking. That’s how I had the time to take that little side-road adventure—though a thought did pop into my head about that, namely, that it would probably be the last time I’d be able to drive anywhere far from home for awhile.

I summed up where I’m at with all this on my personal Facebook before the press conference was held:

I’m actually okay about all this, apart from the fact my dental hygienist appointment on Thursday may have to be rescheduled, and it can take months to get one. Other than that, I’m okay (for now) if we go under lockdown…

Here’s what I do worry about: Nigel’s Birthday is in ten days. I’d really rather not have to be alone on that day, but if that’s the case, I’ll cope. My appointment with the cardiologist is two weeks from today. If it needs to be rescheduled, it could be many months before I can get another one. Other than those two things, I’m good.

So, right now, I’m perfectly okay with the situation, one we all knew would happen sooner or later, and it was 170 days since our last case of Covid in the community, maybe it was inevitably going to be sooner? I certainly have things to keep me busy for the next three days, or even longer if it comes to that. Had this happened last year at this time, it would probably have been a different story, but a lot has happened since then.

As so many people have been saying, we’ve been through this, we’ve done it before, and we can do it this time, too. The last thing we want is a raging outbreak like Sydney has, and, with luck, this short, sharp lockdown will stop this from getting out of control. We hope!

Because of the lockdown, the Government temporarily suspended the Covid vaccination programme, and will announce more about that tomorrow. Which makes me doubly lucky that I got my second jab today. If my appointment had been tomorrow, I would’ve been so disappointed about getting so close to the finish line and missing out. That probably would have upset me more than being locked down again.

Still, like everyone else, I really hope this will be short.

Days of focus on living

Five years ago today, I got a stent that opened up a 90% blocked coronary artery, saving my life. At the time, the cardiologist told me that he was surprised that I never had a heart attack, but if I had, it probably would’ve been fatal because of where the blockage was. And, as I’ve said before, the whole reason that ended well is that Nigel helped get me to that point.

Nigel had been coaching me for months, helping me learn to advocate for my own health, because he’d learned to do that for himself. It was his urging and coaching that led me to go to the doctor on the Monday of this week in 2016, and by Wednesday, August 17, 2016, my stent was in and my life saved.

After the procedure was done, and they were wheeling me back to the room, the doors swung open, and the first person I saw was Nigel. In fact, when the doors swung open and he saw me, he practically sprinted across from the waiting area and was about to run through those doors into the area when the nurses basically told him to stop and wait, which he did. I’ve never mentioned that before, but it’s the main image that plays back in my mind when I think about that day. He looked frightened and relieved all at once, and I felt instantly better because he was there.

My relief was because of what happened before the procedure: They’d told me they were taking me into the lab, as they called it, a couple hours earlier than expected, so I rang Nigel to tell him, and he said he’d hop in the shower and come to the hospital. A few minutes later, a rather gruff, non nonsense nurse from the lab came to collect me right then. She didn’t want to give me a chance to ring Nigel, but sighed and let me, telling me to make it quick. There was no answer (he was probably in the shower). So, I sent a quick text, turned my phone off (and bravely put it in the drawer by my bed), and was wheeled away to the lab by a porter.

I was frightened by the procedure: The very idea of inserting a probe into my wrist and wriggling it up to my heart was bad enough, but the thought they might insert a thing into an artery to keep it open, was also bad. The thing I was truly terrified of, though, wasn’t that, but that I could die during the procedure, and that only worried me for one simple reason: Nigel wouldn’t have had the chance to say goodbye.

During the procedure, especially the scary parts, including the only time I felt pain, I just focused on Nigel and getting back to him. It really helped.

After it was all over and I was back in the room, Nigel stood close by while the nurses from the lab did all the bits and pieces they needed to do—hooking up monitors and such. That’s when Nigel said, “your colour’s better already!” I remember one of the nurses from the lab shot him a look, no expression or emotion, more like she wondered why he’d said that. At the time I thought she didn’t believe him, but I knew he was the only person in the whole world who could notice even the slightest change. Whatever she was thinking, I knew Nigel was right.

Later, when I looked at my phone, I saw text messages from Nigel telling me he was on his way to the hospital, and that he loved me. I didn’t get those messages before I switched my phone off, of course, but I knew, any way.

The next day, they were ready to discharge me. I met with a very nice and kind lady who told me about everything they’d done, things I needed to do, and what my new prescriptions were likely to be and why/what they’d do. The nursing staff hurried me along because they needed the bed (it was in cardiac care area), but grudgingly let me take a shower. I didn’t even have the discharge paperwork yet.

When I was ready a few minutes later (I did hurry!) a nurse kindly wheeled my bag (I wasn’t supposed to exert myself) and accompanied me to the waiting area down the hall, where Nigel had been waiting for me the day before. Nigel was in a meeting at the time, and said he’d be at the hospital as soon as he could. There was no hurry: I still didn’t have the paperwork and wasn’t supposed to leave the floor.

A little later, that nice nurse returned with the discharge paperwork. But, I had to wait some more for the person from the hospital pharmacy who, according to their procedures, had to give me the prescription and explain it all to me.

Around a half hour later, the pharmacist showed up, gave me the prescription form, and re-explained all the drugs to me. She asked me about supplements I took, which at the time was tart cherry for gout, and fish oil, and I quickly realised she wouldn’t listen to me, dismissing everything I said because there was “no evidence” any of it worked. It was my first experience with someone in the medical field who was certain that lack of proof automatically meant lack of any evidence whatsoever, and that the only things that worked came from a pharmaceutical factory. I shut down and stopped interacting, barely listening to her at all.

A little while after that, Nigel arrived, and I instantly felt better. I really don’t remember much about the day after that (apart from filling the prescriptions), but all I cared about was that I was with Nigel and he was taking me to our home where I’d see our furbabies again. I was content and happy.

I don’t know if I’ll ever feel those things again, but if I do, it’ll be because Nigel helped save my life. Five years ago today was the most dramatic event up to that point, but just last December I had another probe wriggled up to my heart to (hopefully) fix my rhythm problems. That time, there was no Nigel to help me through it and to help take away my fear and anxiety, and it’s no surprise that it’s the only thing I truly wanted that day.

The image up top what I posted to my personal Facebook when sharing today’s “Memory” (click to embiggen). What I wrote today is actually a much shorter version of this post, which I wrote first.

Necessary delay

If there’s been one consistent theme in my health journey over the past few years, it’s been that I want to feel better, less tired. Nigel’s death added new anxieties over facing changes alone, but the underlying goal hasn’t changed. Even so, I decided that slowing things down a little is a really good idea.

I’ve talked a few times about the anti-coagulant the cardiologist wanted to put me on, rivaroxaban, and how I was frightened about it because of the risk of severe bleeding. However, I also said last month:

I was willing to give it a go anyway, though, because I’ve had enough of the side effects of dabigatran, but especially because of the fact that I’m far more frightened about having a stroke, and that outweighs everything else, even the fear that this drug may go too far in thinning my blood.

A couple weeks ago I started taking the rivaroxaban, and, so far, the unpleasant side effects of dabigatran seem to be gone. I say “seem” because I’m naturally sceptical it’ll last, or that new side effects won’t emerge. The worst side effects of dabigatran didn’t appear for maybe a few weeks. So, early days, but promising.

I thought I’d make the switch to the other drugs a week later—this week—but I decided to delay it. It was again potential side effects I was concerned about.

My new blood pressure medication (because my current one is being discontinued) is an ACE inhibitor called enalapril. I read the details on Wikipedia first, as is my custom, because it gives me basic information quickly. After that, I always look up the “Consumer Medicine Information” (CMI) sheet from the NZ Government agency, Medsafe. There’s actually not necessarily any significant differences in the details provided by the two sites most of the time. In this case, though, Medsafe’s CMI [the PDF is available on their site] included this:

Be careful when drinking alcohol while you are taking this medicine. If you drink alcohol, dizziness and light-headedness may be worse. [bold type in the original]

This caught my attention because I’d already read up on the other drug the cardiologist put me on, a diuretic called bendroflumethiazide. Wikiepdia said:

Bendroflumethiazide is known to have an adverse interaction with alcohol. It is advised that those using this diuretic should abstain from alcohol consumption during use, as it is possible to experience a sudden drop in blood pressure, especially if standing up…

I note that Wikipedia editors pointed out there was no citation given for whoever “advised” that, so I my next stop was the Medsafe’s CMI [the PDF is available on their site], which said this:

Do not drink large amounts of alcohol. Use of ARROW-BENDROFLUAZIDE with alcohol will increase your chances of getting dehydrated and a hangover.

Neither the cardiologist nor the chemist warned me about that, and if I hadn’t read it myself, I might have gotten myself into trouble. The problem here is apparently two-fold: Alcohol may cause a drop in blood pressure which may cause dizziness (Medsafe CMI for enalapril), and that seems to be what the Wikipedia page was talking about when they talked about bendroflumethiazide. The Medsafe CMI on that drug only really talks about possible bad hangovers if one consumes “large amounts of alcohol”.

The larger point here isn’t about alcohol—I totally abstained from alcohol for the entire 19 months I was on amiodarone, after all, so I can obviously abstain now, too. Instead, what concerns me is that I had to research risks myself. Time was, CMI sheets were given whenever I got a new prescription for the first time, but that hasn’t happened in a very long time—years, probably.

The reason I delayed starting the new drugs had absolutely nothing to do with alcohol (although, coincidentally, I bought a bottle of wine the same day I filled the prescriptions; I didn't know any better yet). Instead, it was one possible side effect in particular: Fatigue.

I’ve been complaining about sometimes profound fatigue for some four years now, and as extremely unpleasant as that’s been, I at least know, more or less, how to manage it, how to pace myself, and how to ration my energy to get stuff done. The new drugs may—and hopefully will!—make me feel much better, however, they may not. I have so much more physical work to do in the garage right now that I just can’t risk feeling even more tired than I already do. Next week I hope I’ll have made enough progress that if I stall, at least I won’t have stuff literally everywhere in my house.

One other potential side effect could also halt my garage work: Bendroflumethiazide can possibly cause gout attacks. They’re not pleasant at any time, but it would make me physically unable to work on the garage, even if I felt more energetic.

The rest of the common potential side effects are pretty standard for hypertension medication (like the warning to stand up slowly), the possibility of a dry cough, that sort of thing. My sister-in-law, who is a nurse, warned me to make sure I drink plenty of water while I’m on bendroflumethiazide, another thing no doctor or chemist warned me about.

All of this has made me think about the future—a lot. When I see the cardiologist I’m going to ask him if there’s a path forward that could reduce the number of drugs I’m on. I’m particularly unhappy about being on two drugs for hypertension, especially the diuretic. If there is a way, I’d like the cardiologist to suggest a roadmap for my GP to monitor (I don’t even know what his target for my blood pressure is). Basically, if there are some changes or whatever that I can do now, I want to do that because the longer this goes on, the more likely ageing and mobility issues could make things worse. I don’t like feeling that all of this is out of my control, at least, not when no one has said to me that that’s the case.

Apparently, the theme of this journey is changing. Sure, I still want to feel better and less tired, but now I also want more control. That, I think, is part of my my other journey, the one out of grief, because I find that more and more I want to determine for myself how my life proceeds and what my future holds. In a way, they’re both about my health. And that’s the biggest reason why I decided to slow things down a little: It’s my life, my choices and decisions, and on my timeline. That, too, is healthy, in my opinion.

Important note: This is about my own personal health journey. My experiences are my own, and shouldn’t be taken as indicative for anyone else. Similarly, other people may have completely different reactions to the same medications I take—better or worse. I share my experiences because others may have the same or similar experiences, and I want them to know that they’re not alone. But, as always, discuss your situation and how you’re feeling openly, honestly, and clearly with your own doctor, and always feel free to seek a second opinion from another doctor.

First jab done

Today I went and had my first jab of the Covid-19 vaccine. It felt like I’d been waiting forever, but in the end it all happened quickly. I’m very happy about it all.

The plan had been to have everyone 65+, along with those (like me) with certain pre-existing health conditions, get their jabs in July. I avoided getting an annual flu jab because, at the time, advice was that we’d have to wait 31 days before getting the Covid jab, and I didn’t want to do anything to jeopardise or delay that.

Things didn’t go as quickly as I’d planned. I don’t know what the problem was, whether it was some sort of disorganisation at the Waikato District Health Board (my local health authority), or whether it was the lingering problems caused by the ransomware attack, but whatever the cause, as the month dragged on it was looking unlikely I’d get my jab in July.

However, this past Friday, July 23, the Ministry of Health announced that from that day, people in Group 3 (like me) who hadn’t received an invitation to book a vaccine (again, like me) could ring a new 0800 number to book an appointment. I did that on Friday.

I was very, very impressed with the phone booking service: My call was answered pretty quickly, and the friendly and helpful person got me all set up in only a few minutes. It turned out that I could have had an appointment the next day, Sunday, but I had a family birthday lunch to go to that day. So, my appointment was two days later—today—which was such a long time to wait… My appointment for the second jab is on August 17, exactly three weeks later, which is the Ministry of Health’s preferred target timeframe.

The vaccination centre I was going to was located in Te Awa, the mall at The Base shopping centre, which is about a 15 minute drive from my house. Since I wasn’t completely sure where, precisely, the location was in the mall, I was there early.

I walked into the mall (after scanning the QR code with the Covid Tracer App, of course), and worked out quickly it was where I thought it was: Upstairs on the second level, one of the few things on that level (a topic for another day).

I walked into the centre (after scanning the QR code with my Covid Tracer App, of course), and a friendly helpful lady gave me a clipboard, pen, and a number (22), along with an information sheet and a consent form I needed to fill out. The waiting area was packed—there were a few seats, and there was clearly pretty quick turnover, and that really impressed me.

It didn’t take me long to fill out the paperwork, so I had time to calm down and just relax a bit. Around fifteen minutes after I arrived, my number was called and I was summoned to go to the consent area. The friendly, helpful lady took my information and gave me the little car where the vaccinator would record the relevant details of my jab.

Next, I was ushered into another crowded waiting area where people were being called up by name. It was roughly 35 minutes before I was ushered in for my jab, and since there were at least 10 vaccinators that I know of, that’s a pretty good indicator of how many people were there waiting.

The friendly, helpful vaccinator explained everything to me, including possible reactions/side effects, and gave me advice on what to do if I had any (so far, I haven’t), and also advice like to drink lots of water afterward, and to actually use the arm I got the jab in. I had her jab the arm that I don’t sleep on very much, following the advice a friend gave me, and the vaccinator thought that was a great idea. She gave me my jab, and after about five minutes total, I was away—to the next waiting area.

I gave my paperwork to the friendly, helpful guy there, who pointed out the water, and told me the nurse would let me know when I could leave after about 20 minutes, which was to make sure I didn’t have a severe reaction. I got myself a cup of water and sat down to post on Facebook that I’d had my first jab. After my 20 minutes was up, they called out my name, and I left.

I took my selfie (photo up top), and heard the rain absolutely hosing down on the roof. Although I’d brought an umbrella in case that happened, it sounded especially fierce, so I went to a department store in the mall to pick up a couple things I needed, then decided to have an early dinner in the foodcourt.

When I left, the sun was back out—and the temperature had dropped five degrees, according to my watch. I drove directly home and got back here around 5pm.

Three weeks from today, I’ll be fully vaccinated. And very, very happy about it.

Update 29 July – Jab aftermath: I had no reaction Tuesday night, but did for awhile Wednesday.

Tuesday night, I had nothing, and then had a good night’s sleep (though longer than usual). I felt fine when I got up Wednesday morning.

Around midday-ish Wednesday, I started to feel a bit yucky, and also got a bit of a headache, so I took parecetomol (as directed by the nurse yesterday). That helped, but I started to feel yuckier still, and when I started to get scratchy with the dogs, I decided to go lay down. I dozed a bit, and definitely felt better when I got up again.

But I also felt really tired, which is funny because when they said tiredness was a possible reaction, I thought to myself, “how would I know?”, what with my chronic tiredness from medication. Turns out, I couldn’t miss it.

Still, 24 hours-ish after the jab, the reactions started to diminish, and by Wednesday evening I felt normal, and that continued today. As "reactions" go, what I had is hardly worth the name.