Berlinfusion

Radiation Overexposure?

Welcome back to my medical blog. This certainly is not the direction I envisaged Berlinfusion going when I started it nearly a year ago!

I must admit to being thoroughly fed up with all this. Going to a medical professional for one complaint, having them dismiss that issue then sending me for "standard" investigations which throw up other, potentially major, problems that I was totally unaware of.

I had another one yesterday. At the dentist.

Over Christmas I had a possible abscess which was very painful. I couldn't get to a doctor or dentist due to it being the holidays. As I had some antibiotics here, I self-treated (no, I know you shouldn't do this, but it worked.) While the big pain has gone, I am aware I have residual gum problems.

As soon as I could, I made an appointment with the dentist but had to cancel it when Rhiannon was ill. Yesterday was the rescheduled day.

I explained my problem - and the fact that it had now gone meant I expected no treatment, but was scheduled for a clean anyway.

Didn't get a clean. I got yet another x-ray instead. I thought there was a limit to how many of these a body should have?

And then was told I have a big infection in my jawbone on the opposite side from where my original problem was. Needless to say I have no symptoms of this either. Now I have to make an appointment with a surgical dentist who apparently will drill through my jaw and do other revolting procedures.

I don't want to do that. Not quite sure what to do, really; I have no pain there at all but will if I make this appointment.

I'm trying very hard not to swear on this blog... and I have another appointment to make elsewhere. Perhaps understandably, I do not want to schedule any more.

Anyway, I got to thinking: how much radiation have I been exposed to in recent weeks?

Whilst in Tokyo after the Tohoku earthquake of March 11th 2011 and the subsequent Fukushima nuclear crisis, radiation measuring was the main topic of conversation. We all learned about measuring biological risk using sieverts, millisieverts and microsieverts: "the millisievert or thousandth of a sievert, indicated as mSv; and the microsievert or millionth of a sievert, indicated as µSv."

As life was very stressful at that time, many of us were delighted to discover this Radiation Dose Chart (also pictured below - please do note the comments regarding cell phone usage!) which compared various outputs... including the now legendary radiation dose of eating a banana (0.1. µSv if you're interested).

So I started to add it all up.

• 1 dental x-ray, 3 chest x-rays, 2 spine x-rays, 1 CT scan, a return plane flight to London... and that's just in the past fortnight! I'm still not sure what I had to drink or what I was injected with for the CT scan but I'm sure it wasn't particularly good for me.

After a while I got confused with the milli- and micro- maths.

So I gave up and ate a banana.

 

What Happened at my CT Scan

Yesterday I had to be back at the Diagnostikum for an appointment at 0800 for the CT (Computed Tomography) scan brought about by an unclear ultrasound scan a couple of weeks ago.

Instructions were 'nil by mouth', so I hadn't even had my morning cuppa. I'm not good in the mornings at the best of times, and this certainly wasn't one of those.

Nervous insomnia had hit the previous night: not nervous about the CT scan, as such, but more because it was the first step towards finding out what mysterious object is lurking inside me.  I'd already been told that I would find out nothing at the clinic - it's down to my GP to tell me.

I waited in a corridor lined with yellow chairs opposite a series of narrow doors with large numbers on them. The receptionist handed me a clipboard with an information sheet and a questionnaire on it. I looked at the paperwork. It was all in German, of course. And I couldn't read all the medical language. I would have gone back to the receptionist but she spoke absolutely no English whatsoever, and my small amount of German wasn't understood. I figured it would all work out in the end.

Further down the line of chairs were a couple of ladies having a strange sort of tea party. One of the radiologists had given them bottles of white stuff to drink. I figured it was some sort of barium meal and tried unsuccessfully and anxiously to remember what that was for.

I'd grabbed a cheerful book from home to read as I waited, but as I went to pull it out of my bag, it suddenly occurred to me that to bring it into the open here, in Germany, could be a massive faux pas...

Oops!

As I said, I am just not with it in the mornings! I hastily shoved it to the bottom of my bag and tried to work out what the information sheet said instead.

At 0830 the radiologist advanced towards me with a bottle of the dreaded white stuff! Nooooo! I forestalled her instructions - I didn't understand her - and thrust the clipboard at her.

"I can't read this," I wailed.

She smiled sweetly and took it, but unfortunately left the white mixture with me saying, "Drink this at quarter past nine."

Bother.

An English information sheet was quickly brought over to me. It seems that the mixture - a 'contrast medium' - is standard for CT scans: to be drunk two hours before a scan if they're looking at the small intestine and immediately before if the stomach area is being investigated. From this I deduced my CT scan would be at 0915.

As I'd had nothing to drink since the previous night, it wasn't long before the gloopy, white mixture started to look appealing, in a perverse sort of way. My stomach was already rebelling at the thought of swallowing it. According to the information, it may have repercussions in some people... a joyful thought indeed.

Another thing I discovered from the info was that I'd probably also have an injection of another form of contrast medium. What a morning this was turning out to be.

Just before 0915 I dutifully poured out a cup of liquid. It didn't look any more appetising out of the bottle. Ah well, here we go. It had a sort of lemony flavour and didn't actually taste too bad. The psychological aspect of drinking it was worse. And there was about a pint of the stuff to get through.

Before I could start on the second cup I was called in. Around a corner and into a minuscule changing room. I was told to take everything off, apart from underpants. And I could keep my socks on too. That's nice.

I drank almost the rest of the liquid, but the last couple of mouthfuls had separated and looked like white snot. So I left that.

I manoeuvred myself around and around in the really very small changing room. Finally 'ready', it dawned on me that there were two doors and I couldn't remember which one I'd used to enter from the corridor!

Reader: I chose the wrong door.

Thank goodness there was a corner protecting the other patients from such a sight. And at least I had my socks on.

Someone was knocking on the other door. I pulled my jumper-dress back on and opened it. Aha, that was the right door.

The knocker was one of those very special, warm and gentle, people you generally only find in hospitals. Do you know the type? They project a comforting aura even when a language barrier prevent more standard communication. Immediately I felt much better as he carefully explained what would happen next. Although his English was about as limited as my German, he was patient and made sure I fully understood before commencing.

I lay on the bed and he pronounced my veins very good. They have a habit of disappearing when confronted by a needle so I think he was just being nice.

It wasn't an injection though... it was a whole intravenous drip affair.

Then he positioned my arms above my head, making sure the line was carefully contained. This was actually the most uncomfortable part of the whole session - RSI means my shoulders don't like being up there and within seconds I was feeling fidgity.

And then we were off. He left the room and spoke to me through a speaker on the giant Polo mint shaped bit of the machine. Lights flashed, the machine whirred and moved a bit and all I had to do was stay still. A couple of times I was instructed to hold my breath for a while.

At one point it was time to inject me with the intravenous contrast medium. He did warn me beforehand which was just as well because when it happened, I actually heard it gurgling! What a revolting sound. Almost immediately rush of warmth shot through my body. It was interesting, but I could have done without the sound effects.

And then it was all over. In all, it had probably taken about ten minutes.

I got dressed and was told to wait in reception for the pictures. They didn't take long to develop and I'm now the proud owner of several contact sheets showing 'slices' of my internal organs.

Tim spent a rather disturbing amount of time trying to analyse them last night. I shall wait for my doctor's appointment on Friday.

 

My London Trip

This post would have a very different tone if I'd written it a couple of days ago when I'd just returned from London.

It was a fairly eventful trip.

It started with a heavy snowstorm on the morning of my flight out. Runways were closed and my plane was stuck on the tarmac for three hours! I was more than a little tense as I had an appointment for 4pm and only just made it in time.

My trip ended with an email received while on the airport-bound Heathrow Express which informed me that I did not get the job I'd spent so long preparing for and travelling so far to be interviewed for.

Yes, I was extremely upset. But in retrospect I think I had my suspicions when the interview only took half an hour and was very superficial. However, I do tend towards optimism - perhaps a little too much as it does mean I get my hopes up - and really thought the job was mine. Ah well.

For a few hours after receiving the email, my mood plummeted to rock-bottom and many black thoughts ran through my head; I'm a failure; I'm washed up, will never work again; too old for this (!), and many other self-pitying internal rants. I constantly fought back tears.

On the flight back to Berlin my wallowing wasn't helped by a couple of men I was sitting next to; they were celebrating a new job one of them had just got here. Oh, I was bitter. But then one of them mentioned something that made me realise that I may well bump into him at some point as his new job is within our circle! I kept my mouth shut and eavesdropped instead. It cheered me up. Take this as a warning: be careful what you say - you never know who may be listening and they may well know, and be friends with, that person you are talking about.

After a very good night's sleep and lots of love from my family and pets, I've recovered my equilibrium and this post won't be anywhere near as maudlin as it would have been on Friday.

London was fabulous. A thought ran through my head at one point, "It's so good to be home." This meant London, not the UK in general. I've always had a strong love for the city. I was still able to find my way around and walked for miles admiring the landmarks, both standard and non-standard. And I shopped and shopped. At one point I thought I'd have to buy a new suitcase in order to get my goodies home, but somehow it all fitted in.

What did I buy? Lots of smellies and chocolate! Germany doesn't seem to have any good quality, fine scents so I spent a long time in Diptyque and Jo Malone choosing candles and other gorgeous things. I also spent almost two days in Selfridges where the stock and customer service is wonderful. I even managed to find that holy grail - a pair of jeans that fit my 36" inside leg and flatter my non-existent bum. They're Goldsign jeans by the way, just in case anyone stumbles across this blog looking for 36 inch inseam jeans!

I went a bit mad in the food hall too, stocking up on items I just cannot find here. Daft things like good quality food colouring and essences. And chocolate. Lots and lots of chocolate.

By far and away the highlight of my trip was being able to meet up with a couple of lovely friends who travelled all the way to London to see me. Thank you ladies! You made the trip worthwhile.

And thank you to everyone who wished me luck, then commiserated with me. You really helped.

From Down to Up

Perhaps unsurprisingly, I felt really depressed and scared after the events at the clinic. Tears were shed once I got home.

But that Monday turned out to be an eventful day.

Some weeks ago, I saw a job advertised that really caught my attention. And I mean, really caught my attention. So I thought I'd apply for it.

I spent days and days reworking my CV. It hasn't seen the light of day since 1999 and was geared towards a completely different career and life - I used to be a freelance IT Consultant. Being a freelancer meant I had dozens and dozens of jobs and contracts details listed under 'previous employment'.

Once I had updated my CV to show my work since 1999 it ran to four pages! As this particular job was some distance away from IT, it needed a complete overhaul. And as I say, it took ages - especially to get the page count down to a more useful two.

Eventually I succeeded and sent it off, with my portfolio and requisite covering letter, and waited hopefully.

The closing date for applications was 7th February so I was hoping to hear the following week. When I didn't, I felt a little sad but figured there was still time. Interviews would be held during the week of 20th February.

Around mid-afternoon an email pinged into my inbox - Yay! I'd got an interview!

The reason I was anxious to find out sooner rather than later was that the interview will be held in London. I was more than a little excited by the prospect of a couple of days in my old stomping ground. And, of course, extremely excited to be given the opportunity to try out for this dream job.

Unfortunately, my hopes of a trip to London were dashed when I was told that the interview would be done by Skype or conference call.

As it will be half term that week, I quickly let Tim know that I would be here (as he would need to take leave if I wasn't).

Within the hour, however, I received a phone call from the interviewer asking me to appear in person.

"Of course", I said. "I'll let you know when I've confirmed my flights".

And then went potty getting everything organised urgently! Flights were soon booked - I managed to bag the last seat on the outward flight. Tim and I agreed that it would be good for me to have a proper break and so I'm going to London for four days and three nights.

What fun! My shopping list is already written.

No, I'm not leaving Berlin and my family - the job is part time, remote working for the most part. As I said - my dream job.

The interview is on Thursday 23rd February. Please wish me luck!

 

 

 

Scans and X-Rays

Monday morning (it was 13th...) was spent at a "diagnostikum" centre for the scans and x-rays the doctor ordered. It was not a pleasant experience.

For a start, I had to be there at 8.30am having had nothing to eat or drink since the previous night. I found the building with no problem, thanks to Google maps, but finding the correct department was a little trickier. However, medical words are pretty much the same the world over so by reading the signs I was able to hazard a guess as to which floor to start on.

The receptionist spoke no English but we got by and I ended up sitting in the waiting area for quite a while wondering what would happen next. I was also worried about what they might potentially find wrong with me. It's amazing what thoughts whizz around your brain in circumstances like this.

Since arriving here in Berlin I haven't felt fully well, but not actually ill, if that makes sense. I've  been quite wheezy on many occasions, like asthma, but I'm not (knowingly) asthmatic. Add this to my newly discovered stomach problems and recent inability to eat bread or wheat-based food without repercussions, I felt I was likely to be shown something disturbing. I had no fixed idea what might be discovered, mind you, but my brain was all over the place.

Just as I was thinking I had been forgotten someone called my name. I was ushered into a room full of contraptions. I have to admit I was so anxious about this appointment that I didn't fully take in what the room was. So I asked. It was the ultrasound room. That meant I was having the abdominal scan first. The doctor would be looking for cysts.

If you take away my anxiety an ultrasound scan isn't actually an unpleasant event. Just cold and sticky really. I couldn't see the screen.

The doctor was thorough and the scanning took some time. What I did not like was her concentrating on an area for a long time and clicking her keyboard.

And I really did not like the frown I saw on her face while she did that.

Then she made an announcement; but I couldn't catch what she said. It was a long, medical word, but with her strong German accent I could not work it out. However, it ended in "-oma" which terrified the life out of me.

She'd found this "something" on or in my right kidney and was going to call in a colleague for a second opinion. The screen was turned towards me and she pointed it out to me. Sure enough, something round that shouldn't be there... was.

Another doctor came in and the two of them rattled away to each other in German for what seemed an eternity.

I cannot describe how utterly chilling that experience was, not understanding whether you were being delivered a death sentence or not. I fought back petrified tears.

Finally I caught the words, "ein Stein, das ist ein Stein" A stone! A kidney stone! Some relief washed over me. Relief that it wasn't this "-oma" thing and the scary possibilities that may represent, but fear by knowing how damn painful kidney stones can be.

I was told I could get dressed and return to the waiting area ready for the x-rays. Numbly I did as I was told.

The x-rays went well. My lungs are clear - in fact the doctor was puzzled as to why I was there for a chest x-ray. I shrugged. But at least that's one less thing to worry about.

As for my back, nothing much was said apart from "some degeneration". I have no idea what that means. I guess my GP-type doctor will tell me more later in the week.

Unfortunately, my relief about the "kidney stone" was short-lived. Because of the initial appearance of it - apparently not a standard presentation - I have to go back in a couple of weeks for a CT scan to make sure.

I wasn't expecting any of this.

Needless to say I've been a bit of a wreck ever since that visit.

 

Welcome to German Medicine!

When Rhiannon had to visit the doctor a couple of weeks ago, I made an appointment for myself. Whilst I had no particular need to visit, I thought it would be a good idea to get properly registered and checked over. Besides, I've got an ongoing back problem, so thought I could get some pain killers. I don't like to visit a doctor for no tangible reason.

While I was waiting for the doctor, the practise nurse called me into a little room. She had me sit on the chair and got out an arm cuff, so I thought I was about to have my blood pressure taken.

But then she unpacked a heap of test tubes and a syringe! I was relieved of half an armful of blood, separated into four differently coloured and sized test tubes. To say I was astounded would not be an understatement, especially as at no point was I told this was going to happen - I only realised when the needle started approaching me!

When I did finally get to see the doctor I did ask about the blood, and apparently it's normal here. Tests will be run for various things such as sugar levels, kidney function, cholesterol and so on. Which is a shame as I firmly believe in the head-in-the-sand method, particularly with regard to cholesterol levels. I do like my food, you see, and don't relish the idea of giving up all that's nice.

We got into the history and lifestyle note taking.

She was horrified about my tea drinking and subsequent sugar intake; to be fair, it is fairly high but I've been cutting back in an effort to lose weight. I also told her my dieting problems - a) that I've never done it before, b) I had a stomach upset at Christmas which doesn't seem to have resolved and c) I appear to have become intolerant of wheat.

So she made a note to test me for Coeliac Disease.

I mentioned my back problem.

"What did your x-ray show was wrong with your back?" she asked.

"Erm, what x-ray?"

Horror spread across her face. Again. And she booked me in for an x-ray. And another for my chest as I'd never had one of those either.

We moved on to other, female specific, issues. She wrote out a referral letter for me. Unlike the British NHS, there are different places to go for 'these sorts of things', so now I have to find my way to the gynaecologist.

However, in response to one condition I have, she thought it would be best to have a full abdominal scan to see if I had any cysts lurking around. And booked me in for one of those too.

"Welcome to German medicine," she proudly proclaimed.

My head was reeling a little by this point so was pleased to be asked to move to the couch for some prodding.

Following on from my stomach upset comments, she prodded me firmly at the top of my stomach. It hurt like hell! Absolute agony. Which surprised me a bit. Gastritis, apparently.

She got out the prescription pad.

Painkillers, check. Tablets for my stomach, check.

Finally she demanded a urine sample. Nice. I managed a little and waited while they tested it there and then.

She called me into a little room where she told me I also had a UTI and was amazed I had no symptoms. Out came her prescription pad again with a script for antibiotics.

"Can I go now, please?" I pleaded.

"Yes, come back next week when I'll have the results of all your tests and scans."

I fled. I'd only gone in with a back ache.

At least the pharmacist provided some gentle relief. For three sets of medication I was amazed to only be charged 5 euros for the lot! And they gave me some freebies... a couple of sweets and a packet of tissues!

 

 

 

Too Cold to Snow?

Our outdoor thermometer has been constantly displaying temperatures normally only seen inside a deep freeze.

It is Cold.

Today's daytime temperature didn't rise above a bone-chilling -12ºC and in the early morning it registered -17ºC! I am completely unaccustomed to this sort of cold; in fact I don't think I've ever been anywhere this cold. I found it hard going taking Kita out for her walk and couldn't stay outside for long. The chill makes my cheeks turn white - I believe it's called 'frostnip'. Whatever it is, it's unpleasant and scary-looking.

I also discovered that at these icy temperature, my nostrils freeze!

The dog is completely unaffected by the cold, courtesy of her thick, double coat. All that bothers her are the pieces of salty grit on the pavements that get stuck in her paws. Overall, she's been having a fabulous time; mainly because her raison d'être, hunting, is much easier in the cold - the mice are much slower. Yes, she has had a couple of successful kills recently.

The lake is now completely, and apparently solidly, frozen and people have been skating on it. I am too nervous to venture out into the centre - just in case - so I stick to the novelty of walking on the edges.

I haven't taken many photos recently as it's just too darn cold to leave my gloves off!

Many times in my life I've heard the phrase, "it's too cold to snow." I can now categorically confirm that this is an untrue saying. It has snowed. Just a little came down over the weekend and the flakes were beautiful. Large and perfectly formed patterns made a thin, glittering layer over the old snow. And because it is so cold, they are still there, ready for study and admiration for as long as anyone can stand to be outside.

Back to the temperature - because I still can't quite believe the numbers!

I went for lunch with a friend today so I needed to catch the bus into town. I wore five layers, two pairs of socks, sheepskin gloves and boots. Nothing worked and I was frozen within ten minutes. Of course, I should have worn my ugly, dog-walking parka, but style overcame substance to my detriment. It's taken me hours to warm up properly.

So I need a new coat. Something smart and stylish, yet very warm. A down coat would be perfect, preferably one that comes down to my knees; a women's down coat... however, women's coats rarely fit me. And men's coats are not elegant. Therein lies my problem.

I trekked to the Barbour shop where I tried on some gorgeous, stylish parkas, but alas, the sleeves were far too short. I suspect I will find this with every brand and I'll be back to wearing boring men's coats again.

Glancing briefly at Moncler's prices, I swiftly moved on (shame, they're very stylish!) - back to my warm house and internet research for the best winter coats.

I'm still looking, sadly.

Doctor, Doctor!

One of the very first issues to sort out when moving house is to find a doctor. Just in case...

I neglected to do this. I just don't do doctors unless absolutely necessary. Tim has been nagging me for months to get this sorted. A friend ventured to comment that she hoped Swine 'flu wouldn't attack us this winter. And still I did nothing.

Well, I had done a bit of research; we were given a list of approved doctors but they were all miles away or they didn't have all the facilities I wanted. It seems that GPs aren't really the norm here - or perhaps that was just the list. I really didn't fancy having to go to a separate doctor for one ailment and another for a different complaint. And I didn't want to have yet another place to go to see a paediatrician for Rhiannon. What I wanted was an all in one service, close to home. There was a nice sounding clinic which covered every potential outcome, but it was on the other side of the city.

However, it transpired that I wasn't constricted to The List so several months ago I started Googling and found a potential candidate. This surgery was only a few kilometres away and an American lady doctor who seemed to cover all eventualities - kids included. So I bookmarked the details and... did nothing.

Until this week when the services of a doctor were required.

Rhiannon developed a very nasty cold over the weekend which quickly settled onto her chest and, when a fever started on Monday evening, I realised something needed to be done.

Her fever dropped by Tuesday but her cough got worse. She's slightly asthmatic so we needed to be careful. I called the doctor and asked to be registered urgently as my daughter was ill. We were given an emergency appointment to come in between 9am and midday and wait around to be seen.

Parking nearby was dreadful but I found somewhere and we walked in the utterly freezing air to the surgery; it was -8 degrees C.

Rhiannon was stoic but obviously unwell. She has a love / hate relationship with doctors, always terrified she will have to have an injection (she's extremely needle-phobic) yet fascinated with the entire process of check-ups. She is also absolutely petrified that she may have to have another operation. So a lot of calming down and full explanations have to be entered into on the lead up to, and during, an appointment. It's quite exhausting.

After about an hour's wait the doctor managed to see her and diagnosed bronchitis. Rhiannon now has another issue to deal with - the throat swap. She's never had one before. She's had one now! Without being asked the doctor produced the apparently mandatory letter for school. She's been signed off all week. We left with this and a prescription for antibiotics and then we had to brave the icy streets again to find a pharmacy.

Thankfully there was one on the way back to the car. The pharmacists were very kind and made up the medicine for me in case I couldn't correctly translate the instructions. When all was done, the journey wasn't too stressful, just very long, and we were soon back in our warm house.

Luckily my neglectful ways had no serious repercussions, but please don't do as I do.

Put 'register with a doctor' at the top of your list and DO IT!