Monday, January 25, 2016

2015 Xmas letter

            On Dec 4 last year at North Shore Private I received a laparoscopic insertion of a Tenchkoff catheter. This necessitated my discarding all my belts in favour of braces. January saw my learning how to manage the exit site of my catheter requiring the exacting focus akin to dismantling a hand grenade given the risk of peritoneal infection hovering over the procedure. My son Andrew moved down here from Brisbane to put the finishing touches to his PhD thesis.

            I was also taken through with Andrew the procedures for home peritoneal dialysis treatment involving about 30 precise steps taking every precaution to avoid infection. Each dialysis exchange, including setting up and cleaning up afterwards takes up to an hour and I am required to do an exchange four times daily, first before breakfast, second before lunch, third before dinner, and the fourth before bed. I have found this commitment keeps me off the streets somewhat.

            My hands took some time to adjust to all the necessary applications of pink sterilising liquid and they still require regular application of moisturising cream. Andrew shopped on my behalf for necessary medical equipment and storage, effectively refurbishing an area of my unit to enable me to function in this new and daunting chapter of my life. He has been and still continues to be a Godsend. I have been learning how to renew my mind – how to get out of ruts and instead get groovy.

            The first monthly load of boxes of dialysis fluid was delivered to take up a wall of my unit. Andrew finished his thesis abstract and dispatched it. February was the month, the provost of the University of Queensland informed Andrew he has been awarded finally his PhD. We walked round Sydney to buy him a congratulatory watch, settling upon a Victorinox.

            Early in May, I commemorated the 100th anniversary of my great-uncle Alec’s death at Pope’s Ridge in Gallipoli. This inspired a flurry of Cranston family history exchanges which has occupied me on and off when I can. Later in the month I found my dialysis blocked so I was admitted to Royal North Shore Hospital (RNSH) in the kidney ward. An X-Ray found my catheter inside had been dislodged. It righted itself once the blockage was cleared by medication and I was released within a week.

            My kitchen oven ceased working in June so I bought a new one and had it installed with my microwave above it. I noticed my eyes were not seeing long distance as well as they used to (funny that) and I was fitted for full spectacles. Andrew and I replaced my home phone set and my mobile phone now both much easier to manage while I’m doing my dialysis before he flew to Glasgow for an International Aeronautical Conference to present a paper based on his PhD thesis.

            About a week after my 76th birthday, I had a turn while walking to Top Ryde on a freezing though sunny morning. I took things quietly for a while afterwards. Several days later I was found to have contracted peritonitis and to report back to RNSH. While I was being treated there, the resident doctor admitted me to cardiac because of the discovery that I had had a “heart event”. Because this signalled potential heart failure, an angiogram was organised. After consultation with Joanna, I began organising for assisted home care, including Webster blister pack to organise my now increased medication.
            Eventually I went onto a UnitingCare Home package which includes cleaning, laundry and shopping so that I avoid heavy lifting and exertion. Friends from church visited me. During August I crumpled to the ground on my way up the street. I had my heart medication altered accordingly but I can tend to run out of power like a wound down clockwork toy and have to find somewhere to sit down. Andrew arrived home here from his European tour on his way home from the Conference.

            During September I entered Kamilaroi Retirement Centre, Lane Cove for 17 days respite, the longest period of time away from home for years until a few weeks later. I returned home early October to experience a few dizzy spells and a chest infection until on Wednesday, October 21st I collapsed suddenly onto the couch at home and that should have been the end of my story. I emerged from the floor with 5 pairs of eyes staring intently at me and anxiously calling my name. Four pairs belonged to paramedics and one to son Andrew who had been with me at the time. I was stretchered off in an ambulance straight to emergency at Royal North Shore Hospital. On the way in I heard that Andrew had noticed I’d stopped breathing and applied CPR which he’d learned from Scouts, also calling 000, so here I still am miraculously.


            I had experienced an aortic stenosis, mostly fatal, and was soon wheeled in for open heart surgery to replace my clogged aortic valve. I spent the next 5 days in the Intensive Care Unit, then 6 days in Advanced Care Unit before another 10 days in a private room, then 3 weeks in Hunters Hill Rehabilitation Hospital. At time of writing I have moved on to Wesley Gardens, Belrose for Transitional care where I expect to be over the new year. In all this Andrew continues to be my rock while minding the unit. He flew up to Brisbane with his mother to receive his much-deserved doctorate. Can anyone trump a PhD and a CPR in the same year?

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