As is par for the course, as soon as I write something, it changes. Yesterday was a good day and it felt like everything was starting to click back into place. Then, in the early evening, I met up with Mark and we went down the road for ribs. The ribs were amazing – even if we brought half home in a doggy bag! But my head felt light/waterlogged* from halfway there. Before then it hadn’t felt like that at all for a day or so, so I was disappointed that it came back. It makes everything more tricky: walking becomes deliberate, heads needs supporting most of the time, and I want to stick my fingers in my ears in loud places. (Note to self: remember to retrieve the earplugs that Amanda brought to hospital; I’m quite good at lip-reading so it won’t make much difference.)
The crap news of the morning is that my INR did not go up. Instead it dropped to 1.8. And until we hit the magic number 2, the now utterly dull pick-a-site-between-bruises Clexane jabs continue. I’ve ordered yet another box. So they’ve upped my warfarin for the next week, though I suspect probably not enough. We shall see; I do trust these people, it’s just their computer package does not appear to me to be as smart as a human brain. (It’s called INR Star and, as I’ve now found the website to put in the link, I’ll read up on it later for a more informed opinion.)
If you’re wondering why this bothers me, well… as a reminder, most people only use Clexane for 6 days while they sort out the warfarin. We’re on day 30. 30. And they keep raising the dose by the tiniest amount. I think they don’t like giving more than 5mg but I’m up to 7.5 now. If I had to guess, based on previous high/low doses, I reckon we’ll settle on 8mg in the end, but what do I know?
I did ask about ditching the warfarin in favour of another option. The nurse said there are no other options. Today I can’t be bothered to point out there are, and she’s really nice but she knows warfarin, so I need to know what I want, probably, before I actually go and ask for it. I’ll probably leave it until Friday and tackle the discussion of other options at the Stroke Clinic.
Anyway, to avert the risk of the tears of frustration and tiredness actually rolling down my cheeks (never a good look), I’ve been holding something in reserve that makes me smile… As we know, none of the classic stroke symptoms were present in my case, but ‘the brain attack’ song highlights them. I love that they’ve done something less grown up and much more catchy than the FAST adverts we have on TV. The producion is bad, the outfits worse, the acting from the neuro before the song starts is beyond awful (but he’s a neuro, and he did this, so we completely forgive him!), and it’s really, really annoying. So I bet repeated exposure to this would mean you never forgot the chorus… yes, it’s that bad it’d probably work wonders:
* It wasn’t really waterlogged, it just felt that way; like the brain is submerged. I mention this because someone misunderstood a previous statement about having a bucket of water in my head and thought I, um, in some way I meant it literally.