Around the middle of March, I got an abdominal pain. Nothing serious; in fact, I thought it was just an attack of IBS. None of the usual tricks got rid of it though, so on March 30th, I decided I ought to get it checked out by the doctor. It was uncomfortable, but nothing unbearable, so I walked down to the surgery (about a mile). I was eating normally, toilet habits were normal; I simply had a pain in the gut, so I wasnt worried at all.
The doctor decided to put me through a health MOT - checked blood pressure (well, actually, she relied on my own reading from a home device I have), checked my weight, asked questions about family health history (all of which should have been on my file anyway); she then checked my abdomen, before announcing that at least it wasnt appendicitis because if it was I wouldnt be so well. [With what transpired, she might as well have added 'so we will give you some tablets to make you really ill']
She had already ascertained that I was not happy taking tablets of any kind unless absolutely necessary, so I was a little taken aback when she said she wanted to prescribe some antibiotics and then asked me 'if that was all right'. I repeated that I didnt want them unless she felt they were absolutely necessary. She said it was something she prescribed as a 'blanket prescription' (her words) for all women who presented with similar symptoms. Well, I didnt think anyone prescribed antibiotics as a blanket thing at all any more, but she added that if I had a urinary tract infection (which it might be) then having the antibiotics might save time while I awaited the results of the blood tests she was going to send me for. One of those tests was for coeliac disease. I had already mentioned to her that I had IBS and her reaction was somewhat odd: 'who told you you have IBS?' Goodness, that took some thinking. It was over 30 years ago that I had been diagnosed by both a GP and a hospital. I eventually came up with the name of the GP, dredged from the recesses of time, Dr E. That was when she said 'well, I'm sending you for a blood test for coeliac disease'. Well, I already knew I didnt have coeliac disease, but what was the point in arguing? She also requested a urine test and an appointment for a scan at the hospital, 'to rule out ovarian cancer' as the cause of my bowel discomfort. Hmmmm.
I had the blood tests taken immediately by the practise nurse and got the prescription filled at the chemist next door, before walking back home. I started the tablets straight away - 1 tablet 4 times a day, with food, 'to aid absorption'. I had a three day supply. It was already lunch time, so four was going to be impossible that day, but I wasnt worried. As long as I took them constantly until they were all gone, everything should be fine.
I managed three tablets that day. But by 9pm, I was shivering uncontrollably and was freezing cold. This was the week of the hot temperatures, which were just coming to an end. I went to bed. By the morning, the shivering had stopped, but I felt anything but well. I wasnt interested in food, but knew I had to eat or I couldnt take the pills. I forced myself to have three meals, but couldnt face eating a fourth time, so again, just three pills that day. That was Saturday. Again, I had a cold shivering spell in the evening. I thought it was because I probably did have an infection and the tablets would soon sort it. By this time, I also had a bit of a thick tongue, a gruesome taste in my mouth and a furry feeling in my mouth too. I hardly slept a wink. As I drifted off to sleep, I had the most excruciating stabbing pains in my stomach (not the same place as the pains I had first gone to the GP with), which kept me awake a lot of the night. I was taking paracetamol, but it didnt seem to be affecting the pain much at all.
The next day was Sunday and I was due to go to London (Hubby was driving me down). I had a meeting on Monday and I had asked the doctor if there was any reason whay I shouldnt go. She had assured me there wasnt. By this time I could barely stand up. I managed to wash my hair and get my things into an overnight bag (returning Tuesday), but it exhausted me. I was exceedingly pale and felt like death warmed up. I was having very odd sensations in my stomach which made me begin to wonder if the medication was affecting the lining of the stomach - I can only describe it as like having my own mini bad tempered dragon sitting on the right hand side of my stomach; every now and then, he would get cross and blow a jet of hot fire and acid across the top of my stomach. I had never experienced like it before, but in my imagination, I thought it might be somewhat like an ulcer might feel like.
We were due to pick up our daughter to take her with us (she lives in London); she had been to a wedding not too far from here. Shortly after arriving at her home, I went to bed as I felt so bad. Again, I hardly slept. Very sharp stabbing pains in the abdomen, constantly hammering away. Still, Monday was going to be the last day I would need to take any tablets. I had to get my husband to accompany me to the office on the train, just to make sure I actually got there. The day was going to be spent sitting around anyway, so it wasnt too strenuous, but I really felt ill - I had a permanent headache, my tongue was still swollen, the nasty taste was still present, the furry feeling was still there, I was dizzy, felt a little nauseaous and the pain was constant. It eased with the paracetamol though, but eating was really hard work. I was also very dry - I was drinking lots, but my mouth was always dry; my skin and hair were also dry - the skin felt rough and flakey. I took the final pill that evening and was glad that was over. By now, I was pretty sure it was the medication that was causing the problem - when I had gone to the doctor, I had been well, (apart from a pain in the gut) and she said so!
Because the pills were over, I didnt need to take one at bedtime and the sharp pains from the previous two nights did not recur. Again, that made me think it was in fact the medication that had caused the problem. In fact, the only pain I was left with was the one I had taken to the doctor in the first place - clearly her 'pre-emptive strike' with antibiotics had not worked. On Tuesday, we drove home, arriving about 9pm. I went straight to bed. On Wednesday, I was no better and in fact rather worse. I received a call from the doctor's receptionist to tell me I needed one of my blood tests redoing in six weeks' time, as it had come back slightly high. I asked which test and she said it was one of the liver function tests. On Thursday, I asked my husband to call the doctor to make another appointment. A new pain had arrived - a deep pain in my hip, like someone boring into me. It was sporadic, but controlled by the paracetamol. I wasnt even having to take two tablets; just one and the relief was lasting 4-6 hours.
Because the appointment was last minute, I had to see the duty doctor. It was the same doctor - Dr N. I really did not want to see her, but I did want to tell her what her tablets had done to me. It would have been much better if I had been well enough to do battle, but I felt like death, without the warmed up bit. I explained what the symptoms had been since she had prescribed them and explained that the really sharp stabbing pains had stopped as soon as the tablet course was completed. I also explained that I had been experiencing a rapid heart rate (between 82bpm and 101bpm). She asked what pain killers I was taking, so I explained and also told her they were perfectly adequate. She wrote a prescription anyway for a stronger painkiller, that I would only have to take twice every 24 hours. She also sent me for an x-ray to check for kidney stones and asked if I had received the appointment for the scan yet (no). As I reached the door of her office, she said, 'oh and dont take the ibuprofen, but you can continue with the paracetamol and you must take these painkillers with food, or they might upset your stomach'. I went for the x-ray straight away (the hospital is across the road from the surgery); they said iw ould be a week to ten days before the results would be available - not in any hurry really, considering that kidney stones (if I had them) can cause kidney damage and possible kidney failure. I didnt bother to get the prescription filled.
That day was the last day I got dressed for eight days and the last I got out of bed for three days. Oh, not quite; I did make it downstairs on the Friday (Good Friday), but then couldnt do that any more until Monday evening. I was sleeping for Britain and barely eating anything at all - a mouthful here and there, just enough to ensure I didnt die of total starvation. I was however (thankfully) able to drink copious amounts of water. I knew I had to eat, so I thought I would start slowly. Babies thrive on milk and a nice cold glass of milk actually appealed, so I had half a glass. That was okay. So I added a rusk to the next one in a bowl. I ate about 1/3 of it.
By Tuesday 10th April, I was eating a bit better. I was also able to concentrate longer, so decided to take a look at the medication the doctor had prescribed, to see if it had been the supposed infection that had made me so ill, or the drug. What I found horrified me - but i will save that for part 2.
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