The Changing of the Guards…

at Pirin Shestniaset  (Pirin 16…where I live)

So here I was, starting to feel a little nervous about Jillian’s impending departure and wondering if I could just manage on my own here while I  sorted out getting myself and Gina back to Australia, for this is the decision I had made.

Unbeknown to myself there were plans afoot that should have involved me but, for some reason, my family made the decision to exclude me from their ideas. Anyway, Tony blew that out of the water when he forwarded an email that certainly was not for my eyes and I then spat my dummy and insisted that anything that was being planned for me, was to include me.  Now, it was all good anyway and yesterday another of my sisters, Marie, arrived from Australia to take up the care duties of this broken down old soul.

So ‘Cyclone Jillian’ made her departure back to Australia this morning and the ‘quietly determined, don’t argue with me Marie Mercer’  (all 5ft of her) has stepped in to fill the breach.

I will never be able to thank Jillian for all she has done for me. I told her that this morning and really, there just isn’t.  She has certainly aided my recovery and made a huge difference to my mental state. She has done so much work around the place that should I actually be fit by Spring, getting the summer garden in won’t be too much of a chore, and she’s finished off dozens a ‘things’ around the house that I won’t have to worry about any more…she’s a bleedin’ star !!  And it’s been fun having her here, probably more fun for me than her, but fun none the less.

As I write this, she’s in a plane winging her way back to her real life, her dog and her home…and I suspect she’ll be glad to put her feet up for a few days before she gets back to work.

And working quietly around the place now, Marie is picking up where Jillian left off, and it is wonderful to have her here as well.  I guess I really don’t want to face this alone, and my sisters have made things just that big bit better.

To things bloody…I spoke with my doctor yesterday and he believes the reason my last result were so rubbish is because I had a couple of infections and was fighting them off instead to working to rebuild my immune system. Problem I have is every opportunistic little infection like thrush, herpes or urinary tract infections becomes a BIG problem for my system.  When I had my last blood test, I had the bloody lot….riddled I was !! and that would not help my white count.

So, this week I’m spending my time and Marie’s energy trying to build myself up again…mind you, I do have something nasty growing in my right nostril, but I’m sure I can beat that into submission before I have another test.  One of my brothers partners, Marilu, has sent me a blood tonic, which I’m getting stuck into and I’m jumping on any infections that try and poke their heads over the parapet, hopefully before they get established.  I even have a little pink in my lower eyelids, which is already an improvement on the last few weeks. With any luck, by Monday or Tuesday it will be time to have another crack at my blood

And look  …

I’m clearly not dead yet…and there’s even a little life in those eyes of mine

Bloody Hell !!!

My latest set of blood tests were a crashing disaster…now I wait to hear from my Doctor so we can figure out what the hell I’m going to do.  Perhaps I can wrap the house in plastic and become the woman in a bubble.  Mind you, can’t see my Gina being too keen on that…

 

On & On & On & On

it went…the never ending illness !!

As today has been quite a good day, I’ve got Jillian to bring me the computer so I can try and catch up on a few things like emails and my webpage. So, here I am.

I was supposed to be in hospital last week having an operation, but because of my lousy blood results the Doctor cancelled.  I have had two tests just over a week apart and was very excited to get a marginal improvement in the second week, though 800 white soldiers instead of 700 still isn’t that fantastic AND, keep in mind, I should have a minimum of 4,000….but I was pleased and, considering it got as low as 300 in the early days,  it gave me a much needed little boost.

I’m ‘medicating’ up at the moment as I’m about to start another run of bone marrow sampling and blood testing.  Please god there’s been an improvement because if there hasn’t, we running out of places to go.

I still have to avoid all sick people though, which isn’t that difficult in a village with 400 people and great clean air. There’s a constant supply of Jewish antibiotics (chicken soup filled with freshly slaughtered free range chicken and chemical free winter garden vege) coming across the road from my fabulous neighbour, Hristina.

I asked Jillian to bring me some jelly crystals, because you can’t get them here yet. My reason for asking was to do with cooking, but as I’m not doing any, I’ve rediscovered the joy of eating jelly.  Quite possibly helping to keep me alive 

Having Jillian here has been so healing for me.  I know there was a huge spike in my improvement when she first arrived, but I think a lot of that was pure excitement and I seem to have settled back into a circle of good days and bad. She’s gone from being my strength, my support and my nurse and added dog walker and carer, turkey buddy, garage sorter and clean up miracle lady and even hairdresser.  I got it into my head to put a colour through my hair the other day.  Hey, I look like shit …I’m all scrawny and my hair is just a mess, and I thought a bit of colour might help.  Got my ambitions mixed up with my capabilities, didn’t I ? Got the colour in, got the hair tied up and then went to pieces.  I’m finding if I stand too long, I become really nauseous and very weak.  So there I am in the bathroom, too weak to call out, hardly able to stand and wondering if lying on the bathroom floor would be good or bad for my struggling health.  Thank god Jillian got a little concerned about the silence and came and retrieved me.  She helped me to the sofa so I could lie down ( after covering the pillows with plastic…I’ve got dark auburn dye in my hair remember ) and there I remained until the sickness passed…far too long for the colour in my hair, let me tell you.  When I eventually had the strength to be led back to the bathroom, where Jillian then rinsed my hair out, I emerged a much darker haired woman…and I don’t think it helps the whole sick look.  Porcelain white skin against dark, dark hair…Goth gone wrong springs to mind.

Anyway, that kinda led to a few days back in bed.  I’ve been sleeping like the dead and Jillian insists I stay, as long as I feel better for it. And I confess to feeling better and better when  I do sleep my days and nights away.

And let’s not forget the fabulous food she is cooking for me.  OK, I can only manage a very small plate but she’s making me wonderful food full of wonderful flavours and all based on just what benefits my blood will get from it. So it’s not just about soup & jelly.  I’ve been treated to salmon & chicken poached in garlic oil with lots of lovely ‘blood’ veges…beetroot, broccoli, mushrooms, all served with rice or potatoes.  Mind you, I still get menu envy a lot because Jillian’s having even more lovely stuff that I can’t eat. I’d love a slice of toasted pannetoni or some Christmas cake, but they’re just not on the list at the moment.

I’m still losing weight but have decided there will be no new clothes.  I actually bought a belt the other day, the first one I have ever owned, and I think I only got it because Jillian didn’t think tying my jeans up with string was a good look.

I think I am truly finding out the meaning of the words ‘fragile’ & ‘feeble’.  This is just so debilitating and I’m used to being strong and able. It’s very hard for me.  All my muscle has gone so I have nothing to ‘hold’ me up when I want to climb stairs or go for a little walk.  My legs shake and my heart goes into overdrive, and that’s when I do bugger all.  I look like a baby elephant who’s trying to survive a drought…muscles are gone, fat’s disappearing but the skin remains.  I have all the skin and nothing to put in it.  I can’t even look at myself anymore.  It was funny at first…not any more.

Anyway, I don’t have a lot of news, given that the scope of my world has been reduced to my bedroom and the lounge room.

I’m having an airing tomorrow as I head to Yambol for blood test #20.  Lets hope these result are good…I’ll keep you posted.

back to sleep for me……ciao for now

Chestita Nova Godina

Chestita Nova Godina to everyone…That’s ‘Happy New Year’ for the non Bulgarian speakers

I’m not dead !!!  and nor is Gina…and thanks to everyone for asking

Though at times I feel mostly dead, I think my recovery has been more than assisted by the arrival and presence of this woman

My sister ‘ Cyclone’ Jillian arrived just before Christmas and has been my nurse, my strength and my support…and has become Gina’s new best friend…forever !!  (BFF apparently)

I’ll be back with more detail later, but for now, I’ve been ordered back to bed 

I just wanted to wish everyone a Happy New Year

The gentle rustle of feathers…

is a sound I’ve heard a couple of times since this whole mess started. The first time was when I was sitting in my hospital room waiting for Dimitir to come and take me back to Miladinovtsi.  I was feeling very, very beaten and very vulnerable and suddenly, there he was, my guardian angel ( the younger) standing in the room looking very concerned about me.  This is a terrific young man. The amount of times he was helped me and my friends and sorted out the seemingly impossible and everything he does, he does with warmth and kindness.  This is a ‘good’ man, an expression I think gets used rather more frequently about people than many really deserve…Dimitor does. I’m sure he’s not perfect, but he has a warmth and realness about himself that is very hard to find these days.

He helped me sort out all the hospital stuff and get my own Pharmacy organised, bundled me into his car and delivered me safe and sound to my home.  I crawled into my bed, just happy to be alive. He has phoned me almost everyday to be sure I am OK and when I gave him a list of stuff I needed to start treating all my problems, he did my shopping and delivered it out here to me.  His parting words “  you phone me any time of the day or night if you need help” and I know if I did, he would be here like a shot.  He has his own life, his family and his work and yet he will always find time to be there for people who need help.

I settled in as best I could, given my condition.  Colin was still here for two days and then he was off.  On the Tuesday  morning, at the crack of dawn, he departed.  Hristina came over and once he had gone she got me back to my bed and settled.  As she walked away back to her house, I heard that rustling sound again and I think that’s when she very gently folded her senior guardian angel wings around my house and me. There would be no interlopers, no intruders, only her and the local doctor, who was coming to change my dressing and give me B12 injections every other day. Once he had finished, and after a little chat with me, she shooed him out .

The house was disgusting.  I had been sick for so long by this stage and nothing was being done to keep the place in check.  Hristina sat on my bed one morning sort of looking around and commented that things weren’t that clean. She understood that I could not do a thing. On the Friday morning, I was lying in bed when I heard a bit of giggling and shuffling about.  Hristina and her friend, Donka appeared downstairs wanting to know where Gina was, and once they knew she was outside, they went to work.  Six hours later they had transformed the place, especially my floor, including my bedroom. I had smashed another of my big glass doors and though I had bought the new glass before I got sick, I then got too sick to repair it.  In came the cavalry,  …in the shape of Hristina’s husband Volcho and Donka’s husband Ivan.  Before you could say it, the house was lovely, the door was fixed and back hanging and I was sitting in my bed crying.

This concerned them all greatly and they wanted to know if the things they had done weren’t good enough, which just made me cry more. Hristina and Donka tucked me in and they all left me to continue my healing.

Now, I’m not eating a great deal, though things are getting a little better.  It’s been pro-biotic yoghurt to try and repair my innards and a little banana here and there.  On the Sunday, the mob appeared back in my house. They were having a ‘Banket’…as it sounds, a get together with food and a few drinks.  Obviously I wasn’t up to it and Hristian and Donka pressed a little napkin with something warm in it into my hand.  I opened it up and there was a small piece of freshly fried fish.  I decided to brave a small bite, having no idea how my body would respond.  God, it was the best thing I have ever eaten,  It had been rolled in flour and a little salt and fried.  It tasted like nothing I had ever put in my mouth, and I’ve been lucky to eat some damned fine food over the years…it was amazing, and I can still taste that warm, salty, fishy flavour.  I was sitting in bed eating it very slowly and just relishing the taste when Hristina asked me if it was ‘dobre’ and I started to cry again.  She asked what was wrong with it and I then had to try and explain that she had given me the best thing I could ever remember eating.  I think she thought I was completely nuts !!

They gave the house another little cursory clean and then disappeared for their day together.

How can I ever thank or repay these people.

I continue to sleep.  Not so much drug addled sleep now, so things are obviously on the mend, but I have a long way to go.

well, this wasn’t on my list

Betcha thought I was dead …actually, so did I. And there’s still a fair distance to the edge of the woods that I’m fighting to get out of !!.

After my terrific summer drew to and end and I waved goodbye to friends, old and new, I headed home to make the ‘getting ready for winter’ list.  I had all the usual: pull up the summer garden and get everything ploughed, pack away the pool, generally tidy the place and make sure everything was working for winter, fireplaces etc…the possibility of spending weeks fighting for my life certainly wasn’t included.

Colin was moving in for his last few weeks in Bulgaria before his return to the UK, so we got him settled and I turned my attention to things to do.

As you know from my blogs since returning to Bulgaria, things have been pretty fantastic. Of course there’s been the odd glitch…life wouldn’t be life without them.

I got so much done with the house and garden and got to enjoy two fantastic summers, meeting new friends and catching up with old. I was happy, healthy, strong and content and really looking forward to my future here.

Now I’m not so sure….

But let me step back to my time in Australia in 2008/2009.  In 2009 I just went to the docs for an annual checkup, as you do.    I got a call from the surgery late one afternoon asking me to get down there ASAP.  As I figured nothing’s that urgent I replied “‘tomorrow?” and was promptly told “no, now”. When I arrived, I was informed that I had returned a very strange blood result and as such, had no immunity.  I made the joke that if I caught a cold I’d die…and he replied ‘possibly’.  It kinda started to hit home and I underwent another round of blood tests and was then dispatched to Royal Perth Hospital for further testing, because the results were not improving. When your blood is tested, you should have between 2,000 and 11,000 white soldiers to protect you against invading forces…I had 600. I spent a dizzy day at RPH only to be told later that afternoon, that everything have returned to normal. ?????  Good news, I didn’t have AIDS, wasn’t HIV positive, showed no signs of any other immunity disease, no visible active cancers…in fact the doctor said I was one of the healthiest people he’d ever tested. All and sundry were perplexed by theses events, but how can you treat something that’s not there.  So back to Geraldton I went and never gave it another thought.

Moving forward to September 2011

While I was tripping around with Di I got a little cut on my left index finger and be damned if the bloody thing would heal…I also had a small burn, which was healing but ever so slowly.  I figured perhaps just another sign of getting older.  The  ‘Australian incident’ never for a moment crossed my mind.

Now, I’m a pretty energetic soul.  Colin kept telling me I’m hyperactive and should slow down and my neighbours were constantly telling me to slow down and to find a ‘good man’ to do all the work that I was undertaking.. ..but while I was traveling in Spain and France I had a couple of moments where I just flagged. I said to Di a couple of time that I must be having too much fun…and I was, believe you me, but one day I just didn’t have it in me to go with Deb and Di on a day out.  I stayed home and nana rested!!

When I got back and did a little blog for France, I put up some pics of Di, Deb and I.  I looked at myself and thought ‘jesus christ, you look like shit’ and funnily enough on the other side of the world, my family were making the same observations…did we discuss it ?  don’t be ridiculous, we all just got on with our lives…as you do.

My finger still hadn’t healed so I popped into the chemist and got a little cream that sorted it in a couple of days…or did it ?  er, no

I was still feeling weak but plugged on thinking I could rest all through winter.

Then there was the little red spot under my right arm. I figured it for a bite but within days I had a large, angry red ‘thing’ that was starting to go blue/black. I was off to Yambol for a massage and decided to pop into the doctor in Insovo and get a script for some antibiotics. She lifted my arm, winced and told me to get to a surgeon,  I said I was going for a massage and she said absolutely NOT !!

Anyway, what can I say..I popped into the office of a surgeon at the Polyclinic….he winced as well, told me it was septic and packed me off the (thankfully) the new hospital.  I’m thinking “how in the world could something like this go septic in three days ??”

Next surgeon lined up, took a look and said ‘operation’ . I was a little stunned but told him I’d go home and get some bits and bobs and come back.  I wasn’t going anywhere and by 5pm was flat out on the operating table, tits akimbo (again) being prepped.  Post Op, the shit really hit the fan. The drips were coming thick and fast, lots of blood sampling being done and in between the feverish haze I was dwelling in, a small thought of 2009 in Oz popped into my head. And when one of the doctors came and told me they thought they may have created the right cocktail to halt the infection, I knew what was happening…the infection was winning the battle and I had nothing to give.

That night really was hell, but I woke around 4am and I was dry, not lathered in sweat and the blinding headache I’d had for three days had abated but I was completely exhausted. Of course, the next morning the doctors were happier…temp down, sweating, steaming stopped, but I still had lousy blood results.  They sat me down to tell me I had a very dangerous problem, but before he started I asked my translator to tell him about Australia.. He wanted my records, which thanks to some friends and a terrific little doctor that I had in Geradlton, were there hours later. Same problem, only this time I got to see how serious it could be.

He told me I was to get to Sofia to a specialist hematologist as quickly as possible and recommended a specialist hospital there.  Armed with all my records I went to my translator and friends Diliana to get things organised.  I’m glad I did as she recommended what turned out to be a far, far superior hospital and it gave me a chance to find out what as in my Yambol report. They were diagnosing leukemia, which came a a bit of a  surprise, but by this stage I was so sick I didn’t really care.

Next morning I was bundled up in Colin’s car and on my way to the Tukuda Hospital, and we couldn’t have got there sooner. We managed to end up at the back of the hospital and, with the help of a random woman, found the hematology floor.  I staggered into the office of the head of Hematology, Dr Radinov, ( much to his surprise) and while he was asking who I was, how I had got into his office, why wasn’t I registered etc etc, I just slumped in a chair and said ‘please help me, I’m so sick and I don’t know what to do’

He immediately went from official director to caring, warm, concerned Doctor.  I was in a treatment room before you could say ‘jack robinson’ and my treatment, after a few formalities, swung into action.

I was put into a room and isolated for starters…shouldn’t have been near anyone, apparently…I had a terrific Doctor appointed to me, Dr Amene.  He is one of those big, shaven headed, rather scary looking guys and he was fantastic. Once I was settled and he’d had a good chat with me, they bought in something that looked like a hat stand and had about half a dozen different bags handing off it. The next four days were a blur of tramadol, antibiotics, blood and various intravenous infusions and the constant changing of bags and strangers holding my hand and caring for me . But I could feel myself emerging from the darkness and through it all, every now and again I’d peer out through a hazy world and see a large mountain looking down on me. Once I was back in the real world I realised the hospital was at the base of the Vitosha Mountian and it was an enduring and strong image to see in my weakest and most vulnerable moments.

Day five saw a battered and bruised shell of my former self emerge.  Dr Amene asked me to stay an extra night and as my friend Dimitor was bringing some people to Sofia on the Saturday, he agreed to bring me home. I had the extra night of observation and though my white cells were showing some improvement, my red cells had decided to join in the fun and weren’t looking great, hence the blood transfusion. My blood pressure was sitting around the 80/54 mark, which was also an issue. My liver, kidneys and pancreas had also taken a bit of a kicking through the whole mess and my Doc had concerns there as well.  Seems the only organs that sailed through unscathed are my heart and lungs, which is kind of ironic given I hammered them for 36 years with as many fags as I could jam in. !!  They are both in great shape and very strong indeed…at least a little good news 

And so to Bed Land I have come.  I am very ill, there’s no doubt about that.  Like the doctors in Australia, Dr Amene is shaking his head over this. They can all see the problems, but there don’t seem to be a lot of answers.  I do suspect that Dr Amene isn’t just going to shove this under the carpet and hope it goes away…he seems to have a great deal of interest in what’s happening and suggests I should be monitored. I’m  back there next week for a check up so lets see what we can come up with.

The local doctor has been popping and giving me B12 injections and the good news is that my blood pressure has rising to the dizzy, and very respectable, heights of 110/80.  Hes also been changing the dressing on the wound under my arm and that’s coming on at last.

Dr Amene says I’m a fighter but I confess to having some dark moments just now.  Six months ago I was a strong, healthy 56 year old woman working like a navie, taking on everything the world could throw at me and enjoying every second of it, loving my life and all it was giving me. Just now, the trip from my bed to the dunny (maybe 10metres) is really hard work.  This is not for me.  Let’s hope the improvement continues.

My sister Jillian, the same rock that got me through last time, is flying in on the 20th and I know that will bring some sanity into my existence. She’s amazing and I admit to lying here counting off the days until she walks in the door…hopefully I can walk out to meet her, not shuffle to her like her granny

I wasn’t going to put any of this up here but have had so many messages asking what the hell is happening.  I’ve also been swamped with emails but I only have about an hours working time in me each day( and half of that is spent getting the geese fed and kicking Gina out for some fresh air ) and I’m sorry, but I just don’t have the energy to do individual messages.

There may be stories from Bed Land…though let’s be honest, it’s a pretty boring place even when I’m too sick to be anywhere else.

Ah yes, perhaps there’s life in the old dog yet…

Hola

and so to Barcelona we went…on our way to spend time with Deb Westerberg in France.

Deb gave me the name of a guest house in Barcelona and a great suggestion it was.  Slap bang in the middle of the city, with a lovely view of the city streets from our balcony

and very close to Las Ramblas and Plaza de Catalunya. No matter how much of a tourist trap Las Ramblas can be, it’s always worth a wander through.  The sites, the smells the food and characters are all terrific to experience

and let’s not forget the drinks and sweets

Just makes you want to climb in and feast, doesn’t it …and this market is there every day of the week selling lovely fresh produce.

November 16th :  This has been waiting for two weeks to be finished and published. I have a  valid reason why it isn’t, which includes a stay in hospital and I will go into that very soon.

I sometimes think the gods are really testing me here 

For now:  TO BE CONTINUED