Hospital trip

Yesterday I went to hospital.

It was either the shortest hospital stay ever for me, or the longest wait ever.

I woke up looking like this. It's a little hard to see, but yesterday I had infection on my nose, my forehead and my cheeks.



It's been a difficult decision whether to post pictures of me at my worst on this blog.

I guess it's a little like posting nude photos of ones self. But with me I'm not sure of how much I should give away before it becomes sensationalist or gory or like the 'Weird Medical Stories' TV show.

And then there's the idea that there's a gross factor for the more perverse readers/stumblers of this blog.

I have decided to share my experiences with you as a form of education. I have not edited these photos with retouching tools, other than cropping them. I think the full face shot is too Freddy Kruger.

I guess what my face looked like yesterday is not something that we see everyday. Even I get shocked when I get this sick. Even I don't want to look at myself.

The people we are used to seeing look normal, smooth skinned, made up, beautiful. And the photos we share with the world are usually the ones we like the most, where we look our best.

This is me at my rawest. Not many have seen me like this.

I know it sounds a bit holier than thou, but because I sometimes look so yucky at my worst, it makes me so disappointed when I hear people worry so much about their image when they look absolutely fine.

It took three face-washes before I felt and looked comfortable enough to go to work.



I was very sore the whole time I was at work. I can't really explain the pain - it hurt when I raised me eyebrows, smiled, touched my face, when the wind blew... and so on.

I decided that after three days of face infection, I should go to hospital.

I told the lovely triage nurse in emergency I didn't want to stay in hospital. Unfortunately there were no dermatologists on duty, so I had to wait to see a regular doctor.

I was there for a long time. For five and a half hours.

The pain I felt on my face, the shivering I was experiencing, and the anticipation of a hospital stay made me very fragile. Even though I've done this so many times, it's still difficult to get sick like this.

Fortunately one of my good friends was working so she spent some time with me after her shift, and this cheered me up.

It was good to talk to her, despite being in hospital. And I take comfort in knowing I can look my worst around her and still be accepted.

The emergency ward can be a lonely place on ones own.

Here is me in the bed after I had eaten a rice cake. The cheesy coating went over my face like a powder puff. We couldn't stop giggling.



When I finally did see the doctor, I received an IV shot of antibiotics. This is an every day procedure for some, and I know it's not too severe in the scheme of medical procedures, but I really don't do needles very well. The inflamed skin combined with the tension of knowing I'm going to have a needle makes for very hard to catch veins.

The hospital now has volunteers in the emergency ward - to talk to patients, to bring them magazines and to make the experience better for them. I had a nice lady hold my hand and she made me think of good looking guys and shopping when I had the needle. I think at one stage, me squeezing her hand was more painful than when the needle was being inserted in my other hand!



The IV antibiotics made me feel a lot better, and I am now on stronger antibiotics than the ones I took throughout the week, plus some cortisone ointment for my face.

After my hospital trip, I feel and look 200% better.

When I got home last night, I bought Indian takeaway and found a parcel on my doorstep. It was my bear jacket.



A week too late for the party, but it certainly made me smile.

Thank you to everyone who sent their wishes and helped me out. I appreciate you so much :)

When my face is this sore I find it hard to look in the mirror

I am at home sick today.

Not throwing up or coughing or suffering from period pain.

When I am sick, it usually means my skin hurts. Most of the times my skin hurts, I go to work or uni, and if it's sore on the weekend, I stay rested. I'd say my skin is sore 70% of the time, and for most of it, I've just got to keep going, because I don't really want to stop.

But today my face is sore. It probably doesn't look that different, but I can feel it is.

The right side of my face has become infected. It is a bit wet, a bit hot, very tingly, and I don't much like looking in the mirror or looking at people as it's probably yellowish.

Sometimes I wish my illness was more predictable. I've been feeling a bit sore in the body since Saturday, but have been taking antibiotics to alleviate the pain. My face has not been sore at all.

But today when I woke up, it was weepy and stuck to the pillow and very sore to wash.

Last night I was pretty tired, and my face was a bit too...smooth I guess is the word, probably signs that my skin may be on its way to being sore. Even though there were these small signs, there's nothing I can do to control it - it would either be sore or not sore today.

Sometimes I really hate it that when my skin is sore, my mind still functions 100% and I can still think, write (hence this blog), read, and I actually want to do things.

This is probably a bit too much information. But as I've said before, I'm going to be honest with you. And it's so hard to explain to people how it feels, or why I can be well one day and not well the next.

I should be and want to be alright tomorrow. I've had a massive sleep in the middle of the day today, changed my bedding, and taken panadol for pain, antibiotics for infection and zyrtec for allergies. That's all I can do really.

A little over a year ago, I had a really serious bout of infection on my face. It started at the Bob Evans concert at the Toff in Town. I could feel it burning and the infection spreading while the heat from the stage lights shone down on me. I was in lots of pain when I got home. I tried my best to sleep but it was too tingly and burning to sleep. I went to work in the morning, and went home in tears about 30 minutes later. It was the sorest it had been in ages (it's not often my face is sore, usually my legs get sore, then the rest of my body). I was due to go to see Bob Evans at the Northcote Social Club that night but I had to forfeit. The first time I've ever missed out on a band due to my skin. It took another day to heal and for the next few weeks it was sore on and off, eventually leading to a week long hospital trip just before Christmas.

In hospital I had my face bandaged like a mummy. Chux cloths soaked in saline and placed on my face four times a day.

It helped get my face better, but being in hospital takes so much out of me that it took the whole 10 - 12 day Christmas break to recover. A trip to hospital can certainly rid the initial infection, but lying in that plastic bed, having a drip attached to my wrist (or where ever they can find a vein - just typing this makes me squirm) and not being in my regular routine can make my whole body/skin weak and I may end up sicker than when went in.

Here I am last hospital trip looking like a mummy. As the nurse was doing the dressings, I made it more 'fun' by taking photos of the process with my phone.





These photos make me smile and a bit sad at the same time. I guess the reality of it is hard for me and others to take in.

Fortunately today's sore face will probably (I just can't predict) won't make me end up in hospital. I will continue to rest up and tonight I will have a bleach bath.

Tomorrow should be less painful and I'll be back to looking in the mirror and at other people :)

'It's Fiona, isn't it?'

I went to the hospital today, for my regular dermatology check up.

I go to hospital around once a month. Each time I go I see an older man, around 60, at the cafeteria. He wears a singlet and shorts, has a very leathery tan and long toenail, and I think he carries his life in a green shopping bag.

I always make sure I say hello to him. Sometimes we talk for a while. Once, when I was admitted to stay in hospital, he helped me carry my bags. He can never remember my name, but always recognises me.

This man sits at the bench in the cafeteria. From the first thing in the morning until the evening. The hospital is his life, though he's not a patient.

Last year I went for an appointment on my day off. I had a bit of time to eat something after the appointment, so I sat and ate with this man. I talked to him for about an hour.

I asked him why he comes to the hospital each day.

It was an amazing story. Very sad. Yet full of hope.

About 10 years ago he worked as a medical technician in a hospital in Melbourne. He worked on the wards and loved his job.

One morning he was walking near his home, before the sun had risen. He was hit by a car.

He was taken to the Royal Melbourne Hospital and remained in a coma for many days.

He has lost his short term memory because of the accident. He remembers everything before the accident, but nothing afterwards.

He carries around pictures of his daughter and son he has not seen since before I was born, he remembers them. But he can't remember the names of people he sees on a regular basis.

Everytime I see him, he says, 'It's Fiona isn't it?. He needs me to prompt him with my name. He is always glad to see me.

Once I bought him a chicken sandwich and a lemonade one day and he said I made his week.

He said he keeps on returning to the Royal Melbourne Hospital to see whether it will help his memory return. He believes if he keeps going back, he will remember things that happened since the accident.

Today he said 'It's Fiona, isn't it?'. I find it interesting he remembers my name incorrectly - he calls me Fiona most times, and when I prompt him, it's Carla.

When I told him my name is Carly, he said 'Carly. that's right. One day I'll remember it'.

I hope he does.

A sore day but a good day!

Today my pain had not passed like I predicted it would last night. My legs hurt. My arms hurt. My body hurt. And my face hurt but only a little bit. This was all due to getting cold at the gym. As I said, the pilates movements didn't make me sore. I have no muscular soreness or tiredness. Everything that is sore is my skin. It's burning, agitated, inflamed, panicked, cold, hot, tight. It makes it so difficult to explain to people sometimes.

This morning I had my regular check up with the dermatology team at the Royal Melbourne Hospital. A big shout out to them - they are fantastic! There I have a team of about five regular dermatologists who are there year in, year out, and then registrars that rotate each year. I also have a dermatology geneticist who has provided me with a great insight into my condition. Fortunately for me, the head of the dermatology team is the best in Australia, and I get pretty good attention from him and the rest of the team.

When I have a check up, they rarely 'treat' me unless I am sick and need to be admitted to hospital. Generally they just prescribe me authorities for the creams and tablets I need, ask me how I am coping with life, and get numerous other dermatology student doctors, visiting doctors and specialists from other departments to come to look at me. Sometimes it feels like I am a zoo exhibit with so many onlookers, but these days I am asked whether I want onlookers before I get them. I have said no on occasions when I've not felt well enough to discuss my WHOLE MEDICAL HISTORY (how is telling them about the day I was born going to benefit the present day's appointment? I have asked them!).

Today it was good to go to the hospital feeling sore and sad (because of the soreness) so I could talk it through with the team. It's always good to have some reassurance from someone that they're there if I get too unwell, and of course someone who understands the pain.

Quite often if I see a new GP or registrar in the emergency ward, my skin condition is more of a novelty interest for them, and they focus on that rather the skin issue rather than my sore throat, or in the case of the emergency ward, they may not understand the severity of it, or be shocked by the severity of it! I guess it's so rare that the doctors less experienced in dermatology want to learn as much as they can from me, or put me in the too hard basket.

The dermatology team also focus on the whole of my medical care, and refer me to other specialist departments at the Royal Melbourne such as the eye specialist, ear nose and throat, surgeon and genetic counselors. If I need urgent medical attention they are there for me when I call the hospital. All this care for a public patient is wonderful. I never begrudge paying my Medicare levy or Medicare levy surcharge!

Even though I was really sore today, I left the hospital with a (small) chocolate pastry (the Royal Melbourne Hospital cafeteria ROCKS!) feeling really good about myself. It was really good to have a sounding board. And one of the doctors reiterated how 'amazing' I am to cope with this condition and lead such a full life.

Work was pretty fun too, which meant my soreness didn't worsen. I work with a great group of people and my work is very rewarding and friendly which I love. (I have also found it hard to switch back to the PC keyboard at work since buying my MacBook Pro!)

After work I wanted to rest up and elevate my legs, so didn't feel like cooking. I bought dinner, which is rare for me to get takeaway on a weeknight.

I bought sashimi (I adore raw salmon, not so much cooked salmon) and rare beef from Sushi Sushi, and prepared a very quick salad of blanched cauliflower, asparagus and broccolini, grapes, salad greens, the carrot from the sashimi and cherry tomatoes, with a dressing of lime juice, chili, sesame and sugar (inspired by Faux Fuschia). It was delicious, and very healthy. I loved the tang of the dressing on the salad paired with the sashimi. I didn't rate the rare beef though, and wouldn't recommend it - too bland, even with soy sauce on it.

Here is a photo of my dinner. It may be a bit bright and plastic looking because of the flash?



It was very yummy!