A Looooooooooong Weekend

I was supposed to work half the day tomorrow, but I have taken the day off, Friday is a holiday and then there is the weekend, so now I get f-o-u-r whole wonderful days off from work! WooT!!!

And boy do I need it!

Since my last visit with my sweet Hungarian doctor a month ago I am under instructions to reduce my normal daily dose of antidepressants from 20 mg to 10 mg. I have done that quiet successfully without any major setbacks. I do however feel unfocused, tired and in need of more sleep and I also feel an increased melancholy. Although my doctor told me that I can increase the dosage to 15 mg or 20 mg if and when I feel the need, I still want to give the lower dosage a chance to stabilize so I can get a sense of how I will feel.

I am going to use the long weekend in first life to relax, rest, sleep more and visit with mother once or twice. My laziness during these four days will break every existing record, I can promise you that!

In SecondLife I am going to kick-start the immense "Organize Your Inventory"-project. It hasn't been done before during my more than eight years here, so it is really high time to take control of it and get it in some order. Every time my well organized hubby gets a glimpse of my Inventory he cries out in shock and amazement "You have everything stored in the root folder, that is crazy!" or something to that effect...

Furthermore I am hoping that Botanical will finally release it's new products so that we can finally finish Project -15, the landscaping project in the South-East corner of the sim. It already looks wonderful and I am extremely happy with the results so far of the toils of Samuel Fallen, of Lytton & Fallen, and Tomais Ashdene and Butch Diavolo, of Southern Charm.

Once the landscaping is all done Tomais and I are going to throw a party to celebrate. You will all receive an invitation through the blog and/or personally.

"Listen To Your Body, Bock" - Part 3

Greta Garbo as Marguerite Gautier in the American romantic drama film "Camille" (1936),
directed by George Cukor and produced by Irving Thalberg and Bernard H. Hyman

For those of you who haven't read Alexandre Dumas, fils, novel "La Dame aux Camélias", or seen the other works  of art that are based on that novel, mainly the film "Camille" (from which the picture above is taken) or Giuseppe Verdi's opera "La Traviata", let me give you the following short information about it as far as it is relevant to this post.

"The lady of the camellias" (whom the originators of the opera for some inexplicable reason see fit to change the name of) is a luxury prostitute in the 19th century Paris. She hobnobs with high society (mostly the older and wealthier men) and other girls like herself. During the course of the story she starts coughing in the sweetest and most endearing way. This gets worse until she starts emitting perfect small  flecks of blood on her white handkerchiefs. It deteriorates from there and eventually she  dies.

Well, now lets leave that little floozy and move our attention to someone much more important, namely  me.

I have been coughing more-or-less constantly for the last ten years. This is of course connected to my habit of smoking cigarettes. Sometimes I cough much, at other times less, it gets worse when I have a cold or the flu. Now let me also confess that my coughs can in no way be described as cute, discrete or  touching. When they are bad they are really bad and take over my body completely and come out as deep, rumbling cascades, so if I feel that happening I usually get to my feet - if I feel it is safe - and remove myself to another location where I can take care of business alone.

Throughout the past years I have had dozens of X-rays and examinations by specialists of every kind. They find nothing strange and all tell me, "There is only one way to get the cough to stop and that is by quitting smoking."

However, last fall there was a breakthrough, I was diagnosed with a mild case of Chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD) and have since received adequate treatment for that, meaning inhalation medication of Spiriva (tiotropium bromide monohydrate), supplemented by Oxis (formoterol). This medication allows the muscles in my airways to relax and thus helps keeps them open which allows me to breathe.

Lo and behold, my longtime companion the cough almost left me completely overnight, except for a few cute and rather endearing coughs once-in-awhile. That is until about a month ago, when I suddenly started coughing violently again despite religiously adhering to the routines prescribed by the doctors.

After about two weeks of this, I started feeling sharp pains on the right side of my chest. I suspected I had torn a muscle, but due to pressure from my parents, my boss and my consort I made an appointment to see my Hungarian doctor. He - as always - listened extremely attentively to what I had to say and to my lungs. After having done the latter he asked me to lift my right arm, he then jabbed me in a particular spot with his finger and I almost jumped through the roof. With a soft smile he then told me that he had been worried that my right lung might have collapsed, but that he - after the examination - had come to the conclusion that I had torn a muscle. I should medicate for this with regular off the counter painkillers.

Two days after the visit to my doctor there was a new and - for me rather dramatic development (remember I told you in the beginning that I am a hypochondriac). Blood started coming up when I coughed, not small flecks either but rather largish volumes of it, although I am aware of the fact that it always looks more than it actually is.

Sometimes the discharge was pure blood, at other times it was mixed with coagulated blood or big sheets of blood or with yellow gunk. After it had started, it just kept on coming. I first suspected that I had broken a blood vessel through coughing and waited for it to heal, hoping that it would do so fast. The palms of my hands slowly started turning pale, and that had me worried, because then I understood it was not only minute amounts that left my body.

When the blood continued coming - and after a little more than a week - I told Tomais about it. He lovingly convinced me to make an appointment with my Hungarian doctor a.s.a.p. On Thursday morning I saw the doctor, he listened to my story, listened to my lungs, looked at the palms of my hands and gave me a prescription  for ten tablets of Doxycycline, a referral to get an X-ray taken and some cough suppressant. He told me he now suspected it was pneumonia or some other pulmonary infection. What it was specifically, he would get back to me about on the coming Monday when he received the reply on the X-rays.

After starting the cure with two pills on Thursday, the bleeding ceased completely on Friday, instead I kept coughing up gunk with a brownish-yellowish color and a foul taste. Today, Saturday, it is even lighter, not so bad tasting and the cough is subsiding. My energy is coming  back and I no longer get chills every evening.

So, here we can probably conclude that my body has been trying to tell me to stop smoking, which every healthcare worker has told me repeatedly. I have apparently refused to listen to what my body has had to tell me in this matter. 

"Listen To Your Body, Bock" - Part 2

"The Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Nicolaes Tulp", oil painting on canvas (1632), Rembrandt

In September 2001 I had just gotten out from a biannual medical check up and was driving back to work when my cell phone rang.

The caller was a nurse at the doctors office I had just left. He told me to immediately stop driving as soon as it could be done, park the car and get myself transported to the emergency room at the hospital. They were going to fax the paperwork there meanwhile. No, I was absolutely not allowed to drive there myself under any conditions.

When I (a little irritated) asked why this brouhaha all of a sudden, I was informed that they had received the results of the blood tests that had been taken and according to them I should actually not be alive, moving about and definitely not driving a car on public roads on my way to work. Apparently the tests showed that my blood count (Hb), which should normally be between 130-170 g/l in a healthy male, was down to 56 g/l.

During the following five days I was subjected to every kind of gastrointestinal examination on the books, gastroscopy, Esophagogastroduodenoscopy, rectoscopy and colonoscopy, I was fed with some radioactive gunk which then was filmed as it passed through my system, from the mouth to the other end.  Despite the extensive examinations no ongoing leakage was discovered, nor any scars or other signs of old leaks. As far as the tests showed, I had the most beautiful and healthy gastrointestinal system in Northern Europe.

It was - and still is - a complete mystery how and from where I had been leaking blood extremely slowly over what must have been a long period of time. If the drop in the blood count had been sudden I would have gone into a state of shock and died.

All the doctors I met asked if I hadn't noticed any bleeding from my body. I told them that I hadn't noticed anything of the sort. I had from time to time been feeling a little tired, but nothing exceptional and I had not had a single sick day during the previous three years.

While at the hospital I was given a bag of blood a day, and I noticed that I became more alert and awake and realized how tired I had in fact been.  "You must listen to your body, Bock" they all told me, but if there was no noticeable shift I cannot understand what my body could have told me.

I was released from the hospital on Monday September 10, 2001, in a much better condition than when I was admitted and told to regularly check my blood count. (There is an easy way to do it without a blood test. You look at the palms of your hands, if they have a nice rosy color all is well but if they go pale you should take a blood test.) I have never had a problem like this after that incident.

I was on sick leave for a month after being released from the hospital, the doctors and my employer insisted on it even if I was feeling better than I had felt for a couple of years. The day after I had come home my father called me in the afternoon and told me to turn on the television, there was something dramatic and strange going on in New York.

As I sat down in front of the television set, I saw a tape being replayed of the first plane crashing into one of the towers at the World Trade Center, I watched live - in a state of complete horror and disbelief - when the second plane crashed into the other tower, and later when the towers crumpled and crashed to the ground, one after the other, and listened to all the speculations all through the night.

"Listen To Your Body, Bock" - Part 1

"David", marble statue (1501-1504), Michelangelo

At least three times during my adult life health care professionals have seen fit to tell me that I should "listen to my body".

Well it is bloody easy for them to say that, without knowing what a darned chatter box my body is and ignoring the fact that I also have medium to strong tendencies of hypochondria which I try to keep in check. I avoid going seeking medical care and attention if I am not certain that there really is a problem.

The first time this happened, was when I had appendicitis with peritonitis. I was in my late twenties.

A few hours after a delicious Friday lunch, consisting of deep fried prawns  with curry sauce, at my favorite Chinese restaurant, I started feeling queasy, threw up a little and had vague belly aches. I thought there might have been a bad prawn, so I went to bed and tried to sleep it off.

When I woke up on Saturday morning I wasn't feeling queasy anymore but my whole midsection ached. I tried to purge myself but nothing would come out, so I tried coffee. That didn't help either. I slept off and on the whole day and night. Early on Sunday morning I was woken by the pains in my belly, which had now centered down to the lower right section of my belly. That was when I understood what it was, and decided to take the first  bus to the hospital emergency room.

At the hospital I was whisked past the people waiting there and got a drip and private room waiting for a surgeon who could operate me. Which was about an hour later.

It seems my appendix had been close to rupturing. One doctor told me it had been gangrenous, while another said it had been pernicious, both however scolded me for not having "listened to my body" and for having delayed far too long in seeking medical care. They also agreed that I could have died if I had not come in when I did.

The strange thing is, that before the doctors told me off I was rather proud of how I had handled it. I had listened to my body and had sought medical attention when I knew I needed it.

Second Thoughts

So, on my last visit with my sweet old Hungarian doctor I was told I needed to stop smoking. Just as I have been told by other doctors, parents, friends, lovers and coworkers ever since I started smoking. The only difference was that this time I listened, which I am now regretting.

Anti-Smoking Sign, Zion, Illinois (circa 1915)

I am now well into the second week of my Champix-treatment and I passed my preset cutoff date on Thursday. As I was having second thoughts then I moved it to Saturday, i.e. today. I have had a miserable week and have started experiencing some of the side effects of the drug, but have soldiered on despite the clear signs of the onset of another depression.

Those signs are are no strangers to me and I recognize them with a small nod as they turn up, one after the other, like long lost acquaintances. The tiredness, the unsociableness, the complete boredom with everything and everyone (but mainly myself), the feelings of ugliness, unwantedness and self inflicted loneliness and isolation.

Today I did not smoke at all during the whole day, and with the medication that went smoothly - physiologically. I felt almost no withdrawal symptoms from my body and when I did, I sprayed some nicotine in the mouth and they passed within a minute. But emotionally and psychologically I have suffered all day, which is ridiculous really because I didn't really think those parts of me would be the problem.

Intellectually I have accepted the fact that I must quit smoking or else I am well on my way to getting COPD. I can stop that developing by quitting, so I must quit. There really isn't much more to it. I also accept the fact that continued smoking can cause my death or cause other health issues. I am finally well aware of the ever increasing social stigma against tobacco smoking.

Yet, I feel like a part of me is being ripped away, a part that has given me comfort, fun and relief for so many years. What will the new me be like? Will I like it? And is it really necessary for me to live past my 70th birthday, I will not have much of a pension then anyway will I? Why am I doing this to myself?

Anyway, even if I did go out and buy a pack of cigarettes at 10PM local time and have smoked three already, I am going to try again tomorrow.

...and if I don't feel better mentally on Monday I am going to call my doctor and ask his advice on whether to continue or stop the Champix-treatment. 

The Next Step

The time was exactly 8:10 on a beautiful and sunny Tuesday morning when I suddenly found myself laying full length and facedown on the cobblestones outside the main railway station of Malmö.

I had been hastily making my way from the railway station to my sweet, old, Hungarian doctor's surgery nearby, for one of my regular visits. It is still unclear to me whether I tripped on a curb or slipped, but somehow I had barely prevented myself from smashing my teeth and nose on the ground. I could however taste the dust and grit from the street on my lips.

At first I was simply embarrassed and grumbled to myself in my native tongue "satans, helvetes, förbannade, djävla skit", then slowly I started checking sensations from my body to ascertain its condition. I felt a slight pain from my right hand and and wrist and from my right knee, otherwise everything seemed OK. As onlookers hurried to my assistance and asked how I was doing, I slowly rose to my feet again, dusted myself off, smiled shyly and told them that I had been lucky and everything was fine.

The visit with the doctor was good. I could honestly tell him that I was feeling excellent and that I had not had any mood swings since before the summer. He, in turn, informed me that my observations were corroborated by the results of the blood tests, which apparently showed vast improvements from the lifestyle changes I had made.

However, the beneficial news and my lousy results on a Spirometry test that had been conducted recently, moved him on towards urging me to "take the next step", which of course is the favorite subject of any one from the medical professions when they encounter a smoker, i.e. to quit smoking.

My doctor knows me well enough by now than to try to badger me, so the dear man spoke softly and convincingly with me for about twenty minutes and finally made me agree to "move forward". I have now made a commitment to quit smoking and also have the Champix-medication to help me in doing it, whenever I decide to start the cure. It will be my secret and I am not telling anyone, except a few chosen ones so that they can keep their eyes open to signs of recurring depression and other negative side effects.

Later the same day, after lunch, I began feeling stronger pains from my right wrist, especially if and when I tried any rotating movement, and I also noticed a pronounced swelling of my hand and around the wrist. These problem have continued during the rest of the week, but are now slowly getting better. As I am completely right handed, this at the time being means that I prefer chatting in voice and that my last remaining sexual thrills are totally - albeit temporarily - screwed. Hopefully this will soon pass so I can stop feeling sorry for myself and start the new project in making beneficial changes in my life.

Reminder

As I have told you earlier I am going to have my right eye examined by a specialist today at 10.30 AM local time (1.30 AM SLT). Hopefully he will decide it is possible to operate and replace the lens, even though my left eye is mostly useless.

I am not sure how much I will be able to see the first weeks after the operation so this may be the last post for a short while (except for the ones I have scheduled), but fear not, I am determined to be back.

Be good, be safe and take care of each other!

"Gone Fishing"

Today at 4 pm I started my glorious three week vacations, but this year I have a hectic program lined up in both my lives.

First Life

1. Monday June 17, 2013, 10.30 AM local time - Eye-examination and possible laser surgery
2. Wednesday June/19, 2013, 1.30 PM local time - Doctors appointment for check up on my blood sugar and to get a referral to a dietitian.
3. "Rehabilitation program" to change my first life back to what it was and become a healthier, fitter, slimmer and more "old myself". Eat better! Sleep better! Exercize more! Socialize more! In short get back a first life worth calling "a life"!
4. Take care off and see more of my first life parents and hopefully friends also
5. Have sex...maybe, hopefully, perhaps...
6. ...and relax and have a lot of fun...

SecondLife

1. Second Pride Festival celebrations 
2. SL10B - the celebration of  SecondLife's tenth birthday
3. Take care of my SecondLife family and friends
4. ...and relax and have a lot of fun...

"You Are A Slut, Bock!"

Today has been sort of a weird day. The first thing I noticed was that I had a cold again and - as always when I have a cold - I had a really nasty cough too.

People sometimes get scared and think I am about to die when they hear me cough, if they haven't heard me coughing before. My coughs come in attacks, are really, really loud and sort of come from the belly up. They sound as if my body is trying to push my lungs out through my mouth.

To alleviate the coughing I took some of my preferred cough syrup, Cocillana-Etyfin. It's an antitussive drug I get prescribed by my sweet Hungarian doctor, The main ingredient in it is ethylmorphine but it also contains other antitussives such as Cocilana extract and Senega extract. The problem is that I probably overdosed the medication a bit today, which is always risky because most of them contain narcotics of some kind and you end up with a high.

A short sidetrack. I formerly used a medication named Lepheton, which combines both ethyl-morphine and ephedrine. If I took the recommended dosage I ended up with the worst nightmares I have ever encountered or the most vivid and wonderful sex dreams  The nightmares were so bad though that I eventually decide to switch to another medication as I could never know or control what kind of dream I would get.

My overdose today made me lightheaded , scatterbrained, unfocused  and totally obsessed with sex. Luckily my stepson Guyke was close at hand so I only talked to him about what was on my unfocused mind, although some of it may have slipped into local chat from time to time in a cloaked way. Guyke wisely enough just laughed at me.

All through the opening of Eddi Haskell's latest exhibition I was discussing sex and my preferences in certain aspects with my SecondLife son, while trying to be charming to the other guests while ogling the beautiful men at the party. I remember thinking to myself at one point, "You are a slut, Bock!", but it did not help me or stop me from going on ranting into poor Guyke's ears.

I am hoping the young man is not scared for life.

☆Cough-Cough-Cough☆

Is there anyone still out there?

Waking up today from the feverish, cough-ridden and pitiful condition I have been in the last couple of days, I still feel a bit weak and am wondering what can have happened to the world when I have not been able to be around and take care of things and guide you all.

"Le laird aux camélias - self portrait" (2013) 
Artwork by Bock McMillan
based on a photograph by an unknown photographer

Looking back it has been a couple of horrible days. I have strange bruises on my body and can remember fainting on at least two separate occasions, almost fainting about 123 times (but I managed to get hold of a door post or something else firm or could huddle down to the floor before all the oxygen had left my system) or finding myself crawled up in a couch,  in bed or sitting on the floor in a fetal position with my neck bowed to the front and my arms and legs drawn up against my torso in a rigid cramp.

I took a cab to my appointment with my sweet Hungarian doctor yesterday, because I was too afraid of getting a cough attack while driving. He was rather calm and casual about my vivid descriptions of my condition since the onset of the flu on Friday. "My dear man", he said kindly and calmly, "you need a cough suppressant, because with your coughing attacks you are forcing the air out of your body instead of sucking it in." He gave me a prescription for my favorite medication of all time Cocillana etyfin.

The most dramatic aspect of my present condition taken care of we could move on to the rest. 

I feel mentally and emotionally stronger and the antidepressants seem to be working well in keeping me stable.

To my complaints about my diminishing eyesight he suggested I call the specialist that had examined  and diagnosed my cataract and tell her what I was telling hem, that my eyesight was getting worse and that as a lawyer I actually needed to be able to read and write to work, not in five or then years time but now. He could not make the specialist change her mind, but if she called him and asked his opinion - as she very well might do - he would support me.

The visit over with I went home and pottered around looking sexy in my boxers grabbing hold of the walls and door posts from time to time but feeling better and did not faint any more. This morning I woke up after a good nights sleep and felt that the fever had finally left. 

Oh, did I tell you I love my old Hungarian healer?

Following Doctor´s Orders

Every time I complain to my sweet Hungarian doctor that I need to sleep too much, he tells me in almost perfect Swedish, "If you need to sleep, then sleep!" 

So that is what I have done after work today and will keep on doing until the morning!

I hope to see you all in the morning, meanwhile please enjoy this picture of New Zealand-born Australian actor Russell Crowe relaxing in the bathtub. It´s got absolutely nothing to do with my first life or my SecondLife but as a blogger I am using my powers to stuff you with things I like, so do not bitch about it.

(I am sorry but  do not know whom to credit for the picture, but I will be happy to do so when I receive information in that matter.)

A Strange Day

Photo GETTY

As I woke up this morning I had the feeling this was going to be an awful day, but in hindsight it turned out not so bad. That should teach me!

So even if I overslept a little, I got to my work place in time for my meeting with one of my staff members. We were going to discuss a few problems in his performance lately. As he sometimes has a tendency to shut off all lines of communication when he feels pressured and just respond with "yes", "no" or "I don´t know", much like a teenager in a bad mood ,even though he is thirty-one years old I had been making plans on how to handle this.

Amazingly enough we had an open and honest exchange of views and after that could reach an agreement on how to move ahead.

After that I had to rush to my doctors appointment and got there just in time. Usually they let me right in but this time no one came for me so after fifteen minutes in the waiting room I mad inquiries. As it turned out my doctor had moved to new offices and had forgotten to inform me about me. When I made a telephone call to his offices the nurse was very sorry about the oversight and gave me a new appointment in the afternoon and the new address.

The meeting with my sweet Hungarian doctor was swift and good. Have I told you earlier that he is one of those very rare kinds of doctors that actually listens to what the patients are saying?

Well I told him about my strange mood swings and that I felt that my mood curve had a declining trend. I also told him about my occasional problems falling asleep. He increased my dosage of Cipralex and allowed me the flexibility to choose what dose to take between 10-20 mg depending on how I feel. I was also prescribed a non-addictive sleeping medicine I could use on those occasions.

I had some difficulties getting my prescription filled for the sleeping drug. Sweden used to have a well-functioning chain of state-owned pharmacies up until a few years ago. The conservative government in their infinite wisdom decided to carry out a pharmacy reform in which "pharmacies would be improved and made more efficient by increasing competition". As a result of this reform anyone with certain qualifications can start a pharmacy and some of the earlier pharmacies have been privatized.

The big benefit of the reform is that you today can buy the most common nonprescription drugs at gas-stations and supermarkets but for the rest it has resulted in a big mess where the pharmacies now only carry a few of the medicines and look more like cosmetics stores than pharmacies.

Earlier every pharmacy could tell you where you could go to get your prescription filled if they did not have the medicine themselves. Now you have to drive around yourself to at least three different of the new chains and check if they have it. Usually the new private chains don´t have many medicines, I am suspecting they only sell the thousand most common prescription drugs, while they leave the rest to the old state-owned pharmacies.

Finally after asking at six different pharmacies in two towns I could get my prescription filled, by the state-owned chain of course.

Good News

In hindsight I don´t really understand why I thought that my kind Hungarian-Swedish doctor would cut me off from the medication I feel I still need, perhaps it was because many have told me that two years is a long time and that they were cut off much earlier.

My doctor is actually one of only three doctors I have met in my life as a patient who doesn't only pretend to listen but proves again and again that he hears what I am saying - and sometimes even what I am not saying. I notice that by the questions he asks me.

Well, at our meeting today I immediately blurted out my worries. He just looked kindly at me with a small smile and said, "My dear (Bock), I have no plans whatsoever to cut you off from medication that you feel is good for you." With that out of the way, we had a good long conversation and he gave the results of all the blood work and tests which apparently indicate that I am in the best of physical health.

Thank for the support guys and girls, big hugs!

P.S. Please also read my friend Butch Diavolo´s post "Life without pills?" on his blog "Butch Ramblings". As I tell him in a comment there, it gives me hope for a future without medication.

I Owe You an Update

Well I whined publicly about my state of mind a few weeks ago so I guess I owe you an update now.

I saw my doctor today and we had a good long talk. The thing I like best about my doctor is that he really seems to listen to what I have to say. After listening to me he gives me his evaluation and his recommendations for the continued treatment, also taking into account the results of the biochemical blood work.

To sum it up he is pleased with my progress over the last year, the blood work has improved vastly and the chemical imbalances are mostly gone. He also tells me that it is not unusual that you experience a "plateau" after awhile with the medication I am on. All the same he recommends that I continue on the same treatment a while longer. He believes that a reason for my present emotional fatigue is a result of the burden I have experienced during the last year coupled with my heavy work load.

What I need is rest and a few weeks away from work to start feeling better again. I will see him again after the summer and then we will decide if changes are still needed.

Luckily I start my vacation of Friday, so I have five glorious weeks off from work!