Apologies for the delay with this blog but it’s been quite a struggle. Whilst I can still use my fingers and thumbs, my right arm is extremely weak and I can now barely lift it so typing is quite tiring.
This week’s development is that I’ve been fitted with a catheter – lucky me! They tend to be reluctant to fit them because of risk of infections etc but they decided that in my case the pros outweighed the cons and besides, I have carers and district nurses checking me every day. The district nurses are all brilliant too, I’m so fortunate.
So one minute I was asleep and the next I had a nurse standing over me telling me they were going to give me an enema then fit the catheter right then and there. Talk about a rude awakening!
Luckily I’m not too squeamish about such things. I’ve been an egg donor twice and that involves a lot of intrusive prodding about.
The first time, I was 35 and it was all done by a Harley Street clinic. It was totally anonymous, though I did get to write them a short letter for them to read when they turned either 16 or 18.
I had to have all sorts of tests beforehand then lots of scans etc once things got underway. Luckily the clinic had an agreement with Bath hospital ( I was living near Bath at the time) so most scans were done there. As an egg donor you only get expenses paid and I even had to take a couple of days unpaid leave, as I had elected to do it.
You also have to self inject for the 10 days or so leading up to extraction so it’s not for the faint hearted but you use an Epipen so it’s not like having an injection at all.
The second time, within a year or so, came about when I was approached by my ex’s step sister on behalf of a friend. He’d had leukaemia and had frozen his sperm before treatment because he was desperate to be a dad. His partner had a son from a previous relationship but felt unable to go through fertility treatment due to health reasons. So I agreed, though not before pointing out that the chances were stacked against us. But they were very keen to proceed.
It was slightly more complicated because the university hospital we were doing it through insisted they did all the scans themselves so I had to go up to London more often. An unexpected bonus though was when I called the previous clinic for my medical records they told me a baby had been born, which obviously I was delighted about.
And I was lucky second time around too. They had a baby boy who’s now nearly 13 – his parents send me occasional photos which is lovely.
So yes, I’m not too squeamish with injections and being probed so the catheter was straight forward.
Of course now the carers get to examine and discuss my wee too. The other day they were remarking on how healthy it looked and what a lovely colour it was. “Well,”I said, “I’ve got the cleanest fanny in Cardiff, what do you expect?!”. 😂
To end on a serious note, this may be my last blog for a while. I’m not doing so well both physically and emotionally so I’m being put on medication which will keep me calm but also quite sleepy most of the time, but hopefully I’ll be back before too long.