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A Blood Clot In My Lung.

3/31/2018

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This time last week (Saturday March 24), I was waking up in hospital, having been rushed in as an emergency admission the afternoon before.

And I guess, strictly speaking, as writing is my work and I’m not supposed to work for a fortnight, I’m defying medical orders by writing this blog post. But, hey…what the hell? I wanted to praise our incredible NHS for the way they treated my life-threatening case.

It began on Monday March 5 when I visited my GP with what I thought then, were pains in my right kidney. I’d had a constricted ureter in my left kidney in 1983, and assumed history was repeating itself on the other flank. Within a couple of days an appointment came through for an ultra sound scan, on Saturday, March 24. 

But the doc did say to ring him immediately if the pain became unbearable. Which it sure as hell did. Throughout the day and night on Thursday March 22 I was virtually doubled up…but thought: “Well, the scan’s on Saturday, I can wait until then.”  

But by lunchtime Friday I couldn’t take any more. I rang the doctor, and was seeing him within ten minutes. He rang the urology unit at Leicester General Hospital, and I was seeing a junior doctor there by 3 p.m.

​This wonderful young lady (I swear she was younger than my own daughter) wasn’t convinced it was a kidney problem. She was extremely concerned in case it was a blood clot in my lung, and explained that the base of the lung is very close to the kidney, so I may be mistaking the pain’s location.

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I was admitted to the ward and two CT scans were arranged for the following morning.  I was also put on liquid morphine for the pain, requiring three doses during the night administered through a needle-less syringe.
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A team of doctors came round before the scan, and said they were so sure it was a dangerous blood clot, that if I were in agreement they wanted to start the treatment immediately. They assured me it would be extremely beneficial if it did turn out to be a clot, and wouldn’t do me any harm at all if the problem were kidney related. No brainer. Do it. So I duly had three injections, one straight after the other, around my navel.

Anyway…to cut a long story short, the two CT scans – one on the kidney and one on my lungs – did indeed prove that a blood clot in my lung was the culprit. The scan results were sent to the Haemostasis and Thrombosis Centre at the Leicester Royal, and the specialist there began advising the urology team how to proceed.
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That night I was moved off the admissions ward, into a more general ward, but still in the urology unit.
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The following morning I was told I’d need six months of treatment, to be reviewed after three months. It began with two more injections around my navel, followed by double the dosage of tablet medication for a fortnight, and then the standard dose for the rest of the time. 

As soon as the pain was under control they said I could go home. So thank goodness for the liquid morphine, and I was discharged on the Sunday evening.

It’s only afterwards that I discovered just how dangerous those pesky little clots can be, with the risk of causing a pulmonary embolism.

But doesn’t this just demonstrate how vital our NHS is? I have absolutely nothing but the highest praise for everyone I came across during my two days and nights in hospital. And, of course, my own GP, who interrupted his surgery to get me the urgent care I so desperately needed at that time.

My message to the Government, and to Jeremy Hunt in particular – “Hands off the NHS. No privatisation, just a high level of funding so they can continue to save lives. And, if we need to pay higher taxes to ensure that happens, then okay, bring it on.”

I’ve now seen at first hand, how absolutely vital they are, and what a sterling job they do under extremely difficult circumstances.

Long live the NHS. I owe you my life, and I’ll support you throughout the rest of it. 

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When The Russian Granite Cracked

3/17/2018

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Well, it made my day. Even if Susie B and our friends found it hysterically funny. But I'm mighty glad this happened last year, and not at the moment, with the current tensions regarding Russia.

So there I was, in the passport control booth at St Petersburg, Russia. We’d been warned that immigration was particularly stringent in Russia. “They’ll give you an immigration form and you must keep it with you, along with your passport, all the time you’re in the country,” our tour operator said. “DON’T LOSE THEM.”

The officer processing me into Russia was an attractive, but somewhat stony-faced girl in her mid-twenties.

“Morning,” I said, pushing my passport across to her. She looked up. The granite face didn’t crack. She didn’t speak. She put my passport on the shelf next to her keyboard and started inputting furiously.  Eventually she printed the requisite form. Then she looked at my passport photo.

Oh, I should explain at this point that my passport was just over nine years old. So I’m a bit younger in my photo than I am now. And my hair was very short and spiky in those far-off days– not at all like the current aristocratic barnet.

Then she looked up at me. And back down to the photo. Back to me. Back to the photo. Hhmmm. This happened thrice more, the length of her gaze at both me and my picture increasing each time.

I was just beginning to wonder what the food was like in Russian detention centres when she eventually shrugged and pushed both my passport and the immigration form to me, through the slot in the glass.
Picking them up I smiled at her.

“Well,” I said. “The photograph was taken a very long time ago.”

She continued to look at me. Oh, that stony face.

Then it broke into a most stunning, beautiful smile.

“Ah,” she said. “You more handsome now.”  
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Dashley Drive -A Barefoot Personality

3/1/2018

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As you probably know, I go barefoot most of the time. As does my guest blogger, today, Dashley Driveby.

Like me, Dashley can handle going barefoot on most surfaces, even in the cold...

​But she's taken barefooting to the next level - now being a foot model, and making it her life mission to be a barefoot personality. 

Over to Dashley - barefoot enthusiast, barefoot model, dirty soles specialist, and internet personality.

​This is her story:
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BAREFOOT BEGINNINGS

As a kid growing up a city outside of Milwaukee, WI – my sisters and I spent much of our summers outside.  I recall not wearing shoes much, or at most sandals.  When I entered high school, I joined the swim team.  Not much use for shoes in the pool!  Swim season ran through the winter months – and for convenience sake I started wearing flip-flops year-round, even in the snow!  I’d get odd looks walking the halls with my toes sticking out when others had their boots on, but my feet never seemed to be cold.
 
I never thought to go completely barefoot to public places at this time, but kept going with the sandals year-round, through college.  After college I took an office job doing admin work at a benefits company outside of Chicago.  Heels and business professional clothes were the norm here.  Now, I like the way heels look, but wearing them all day?   Not for me, are you kidding?  So after working there a few months I took to popping them off at my desk and walking around the office barefoot.  I wore fairly long pants and no one seemed to notice or care. 

 
DASHLEY DRIVEBY

Fast forward to January, 2012.  As almost a joke, I decide to venture out to a neighborhood Taco Bell barefoot with a friend.  Sensing the monumental nature of this event, perhaps, he decided to film it.  The rest, they say, is history.  Dashley Driveby was born.
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I decided on a whim to post the video to YouTube.  I hastily created a profile and uploaded the videos, faceless and focused solely on my bare feet, probably before I changed my mind.  Here's the first profile pic I used for my YouTube account:


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I continued to make more videos, venturing to gas stations, libraries and the like, all barefoot.  And I began to realize a few things:
  • Going barefoot in public is rather fun
  • People actually watch videos of other people going barefoot in public on the internet
  • In the moment, not that many people seem to notice or care that you are barefoot if you maintain a confident attitude
 
I created a twitter account and started connecting with people, other barefooters, and those that seemed to be a fan of my feet or that I went barefoot.
 
Spring came early.  I was able to take my barefooting to the next level rather quickly.  18 hole round of golf sans shoes?  Check.

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Barefoot trip to Starbucks and the local department store?  Check.
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The number of places I went barefoot grew.  I was driving barefoot exclusively by this time, it feels weird now if I happen to have shoes on when I get behind the wheel.  I feel less safe.
 
I have gotten scolded once for not having shoes on, at a Hobby Lobby.  They indicated that it was dangerous for me to be barefoot, to which I replied that I would take that danger on myself and not hold them responsible for anything that happened to my feet.  They allowed me to continue shopping and purchase my items, but seemed to have a fascination with my feet, and I had the feeling they were following me around the store.
 
Another amusing barefoot anecdote:  I was meeting a friend at a Starbucks this past month.  It had started to get cold out and some snow flurries were in the air.  I walked in barefoot, with a jacket and pants on, as is my winter norm.  A mother and her teenage daughters walked up in line behind me.  We exchanged glances and smiles, I couldn’t help but notice that she looked at my feet.  At first she said nothing, but then tapped me and said “I just have to ask, aren’t your feet cold?”.  I giggled a bit and replied “Actually, my head is more cold than my feet, I should have worn my ear muffs”.  She laughed too.  As I retrieved my drink, I heard one of her daughters ask her mother “What if I took off my shoes too?”.  It was a feeling of satisfaction I rarely get, knowing that I may have encouraged another to shed their shoes too!
 
As I have gone barefoot and posted more and more of my adventures, I have been able to take on a few “foot modeling” gigs, and go on a few barefoot outings with followers and fans.  While I resist the notion that I am deserving of fans such as this – I have taken it as a goal of mine to try and make being a barefoot personality my life mission.  I realize and appreciate that some are fascinated by me simply because they find a barefoot woman erotic in some kind of way.  I think it is a completely normal interest, and it does amuse me a bit to realize that walking barefoot through the supermarket can make some take notice of me in such a way.
 
Going barefoot is healthy for my feet, my toes are strong, my back rarely gives me trouble, and my legs seem to not get fatigued.  The winter months are a challenge, not as much from the snow, but from the chemicals and sharp salt pellets that are placed on the walkways to melt the snow and ice.  I am not a fan.  I can handle going barefoot on most surfaces, even in the cold.


DASHLEY DRIVEBY online: 
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YouTube:  
https://www.youtube.com/user/DashleyDriveby
Twitter: twitter.com/DashleyDriveby
Email: [email protected]



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    Stewart Bint supports mental health charity Lamp Advocacy.

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    Author

    Stewart Bint is a novelist, magazine columnist and PR writer. 

    He lives with his wife, Sue, in Leicestershire in the UK, and has two children, Christopher and Charlotte, and a budgie called Sparky.

    Usually goes barefoot.

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