Thanks for all the well-wishes and good thoughts. They were very sweet and I appreciate them a lot.
Physically I'm doing okay. Worn out, but okay. My oxygen level never went below a hundred percent and once they figured out what was wrong (and it took them awhile), they were able to start anti-coagulation therapy in addition to the narcotics and release me from the hospital the very next day. In that respect, I did very well. Most people with pulmonary emboli in both lungs stay in the hospital for awhile.
A. arrived last week and he's been taking good care of me. Giving me lots of big cuddles. Doing laundry (the county cut funding for my caregiver just a couple of weeks before all this happened so there's a backlog of housework). Cooking meals with a bit more flavor and nutritional variety than my normal Meals on Wheels. Feeling uncomfortable as I keep trying to initiate sex or spanking.
Technically there's no problem with having sex while on anti-coagulation therapy. I even explicitly asked my GP to reassure A. Then, of course, when we did try to have sex the other day, I had some weird blood pressure fluctuation which made me have to stop before either of us got very far. But that should change with time.
Spanking, however, is an entirely different matter.
Anti-coagulation therapy means that I'm taking medication to lengthen the amount of time my blood takes to clot. That time is measured by something called an INR and the goal is to have my INR between 2 and 3. The higher the INR, the longer it takes for me to clot, hence the higher the risk of uncontrolled bleeding. The lower the INR, of course, the less time it takes to clot and the more likely I am to have a clot that doesn't dissolve like it should.
Being on a medication which could potentially cause uncontrolled bleeding means that I have to be very careful about a number of issues including obvious things like shaving or bruising, but also what I eat (warfarin interacts with 186 different drugs and foods -- though that works both ways). And scarier still, I have a history of bleeding on this stuff. Seven years ago I had surgery on my right ankle and knee and developed clots in my leg and lungs. When they put me on anti-coagulants at that time, my knee joint hemorrhaged when my INR was 3.5 to the point where the paramedic said it looked like I had a soccer ball on top of my knee. I was post-operative then and therefore was at higher risk for bleeding. This time I seem to be managing the warfarin better. I survived an INR of 4.8 last week without any major incident.
As you can imagine, all this presents a major kink in my spanking kink. Light spanking is okay. But I have to be very careful about bruising. Not only will I bruise easier than normal, but those bruises could turn into hematomas or worse, not stop bleeding. At the moment I've got little hematomas on my belly from the heparin (Lovenox) shots I had to give myself when I first got out of the hospital. It, uh, took me a few jabs to remember how to do it. And I have to say, having them on my ass would suck suck suck.
So, you know, hairbrushes and paddles are out. Canes and riding crops are too. And obviously anything that would draw blood is out. I'm thinking that once my INR stabilizes, we can try a belt and the scrap strap. I also have a light 24-inch ruler that would probably be okay.
How long will I have to do this you ask? That's a good question. The absolute minimum is six months. However, the doctor in the hospital, my nurse doing my anti-coagulation therapy, my GP, the nurse-practioner at the anti-coagulation clinic where I had a brief consult -- they've all been preparing me that the rule is generally two PEs and it's lifetime anti-coagulation.
It's not a definite life-time sentence yet because we don't know why I got the PEs this time. The uro-gynecologist is going to do a second cystoscopy to rule out again that there isn't anything in my bladder that could have caused it. I'm also being sent to a hematologist to see if I have some sort of blood disorder that caused it.
But I'll be honest with you all; I'm really scared. My spanking kink as I know it is in serious danger. It seems so trivial compared to, you know, blood clots in my lungs. And trust me, I'm so very grateful for life and for whoever that radiologist was who took a second look at my CT scan and found the PE. I know that had he or she missed it, I might very well not be here blogging about losing spanking. And, well, it's not like all spanking is out.
Yet I know now that I was wrong last December when I said that I've never really felt that loss of control during spanking. I know now that's a huge part of it. Him deciding when to spank me. What to use. How long it will be. How hard it will be. That feeling that I can't take anymore spanks but having no choice. Now I have to be completely in charge. I have say if it's okay to spank me. I have to tell him if it's too hard. What implement is appropriate or not. And it will never be hard enough to really hurt, even if it might scratch that itch a bit.
It's like telling a vanilla person they might never be able to have sex again. Just a bit of masturbation and fingering.
Yes, there are other things. Bondage. Figging. Enemas. Writing lines. Standing in the corner. The herbs that flavor the soup (either in fantasy or in reality). A soup of just herbs, however, doesn't really taste all that good, nor does it really fill you up.
I dunno. It's just...it's hard.
Yesterday my INR was 1.2. Not very good for preventing clots, but made for safer spanking. So I poked A. a few times as we cuddled in bed. Intentionally bumped him while he played pinball on the laptop in bed. The poor dear. I keep trying to brat him when all he wants to do is cuddle and caress me. He finally gave me a few swats as he groped my ass. After I suggested a couple of times that it might work better if I were over his lap, he relented and pulled me over. Swatted me over my jammies. Then pulled those down and swatted my white cotton panties. Then pulled those down and swatted my bare bottom. Firm but restrained smacks that gave me a bit of a tingle. He ended with "six of the best" just because. The hypervigilant patient in me worried that maybe they were too hard. The rest of me wished so much that they could be so much harder.