Or so Sheryl Crow would have you believe.
She is incidentally my favourite artiste with an ornithilogical appellation. Other pecktastic pop personae include The Eagles, A Flock of Seagulls and Paul McCartney with Wings. Unfortunately on this CD cover, she looks less like a crow and more akin to a screech owl. But before we get in a flap and our blog flies off course, lets bring it home to roost and nest on today's update.
Change can be very unsettling for those used to our acquired habits, whether it be lifestyle, financial, domestic or in my case health related. Imagine one day you are strolling along life's highway to perpetual bliss, calling at the service stations of Mid Life Crisis, Lower Expectations, and Great Realisation, only to be diverted along Transitional Avenue.
Getting my feathers ruffled this week was a slight change in my medication......
Since my transplant 10 months ago I have been a regular consumer of Fludrocortisone.
Not the latest variant of exciting new wonder toothpaste, or an obscure Italian film director,but a synthetic manufactured steroid. It aids the body in producing sodium and therefore water retention. It works alongside the new kidney by helping it to generate additional salt and is common in kidney transplants until the new organ is fully established. It also had a side benefit of countering the dreadful postural hypertension earlier in my tenure of this donated piece.
Regular followers in Andrew's World may remember the highs and lows of my immediate post transplant recovery. My daily struggle with maintaining the perpendicular, Concordia like I would develop a severe list to starboard.
Mass pill popping is, since my entrance onto the chronic end stage renal failure stage, not new to yours truly. So I systematically developed a morning routine that incorporated the daily ritual of 0.3 mgs, three tablets of the steroid.
Get out of bed, feed the cat, start to boil the kettle, count out tablets, swallow said tablets with tea made from boiled kettle...etc etc
Until finally fully preened and coiffeured I step inside my car and enter the serene world of the Auckland commuter ready to flounce into the office for another exciting and fun filled day of being Andrew.
However for the last few visits to the renal clinic my blood pressure has been a tad on the high side. Not ragingly high pressure like Mt Etna or the San Andreas fault, but still considerably raised from my norm of 105/85, sitting around 155/105.
Initially I thought it might be the stress of commuting, the shared joy of being immersed in the the warm collegiate atmosphere of fellow travellers joined in union on a long and purposeful journey. Just like hobbits on a quest we strike out together in a comradely bond and share the universal sign of the commuting classes....
Having undertaken this soothing venture deep in to the heart of suburbia, it is little wonder that my blood pressure has risen slightly?
Of course the clinical chaps and chappesses err heavily on the side of caution, high blood pressure being of course a medical no-no for all sorts of reasons. and so my intake of fludrocortisone has been reduced to just 1 tablet, lest it cause complications.
Trying to remember this during the morning ablutions and kettle boiling routine, having been ingrained for so long, can be a bit of a hit and miss affair.
Get up, feed the cat, boil kettle, count out tablets, drink tablets with tea, remember correct dosage, smack forehead in disdain, try to cough up tablets, gag on warm frothy medicinal mess, swallow remaining gunge, resolve to try to remember next time.
Three times this week I have gone back to the previous dose, only to end up coughing, spluttering and generally scaring the poor cat, Minke who suddenly being presented with a snorting monstrosity, wisely flits away.
Obviously this is not ideal and I will have to work hard at trying to shake off the old regime.
What a twit twoo
Honestly I struggle sometimes to think of anyone so birdbrained as I am!
Nothing at all to crow about really.
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