Thursday, 13 December 2012

Taking The Rough With The Rough

OK, I know some of you will either not have read the warning message that accompanied this blog, not got the message because some systems do not allow you to attach an external message when posting the link or have read the message but decided to come and have a read just to get outraged and have something to complain about. All I can say is if you really don't like reading about medical matters or bodily functions do not  read. You have been warned, in some cases twice, so on your own head be it.

I have had a truly frightening few days, I've never experienced anything like it and with God's help will never hope to do so again.

After my last post I went back to bed and went swiftly down hill. It wasn't long before I was turning blue, gasping for air and in a panic Peter called the doctor who, bless him, came straight out. After a through check up he muttered darkly about IV lines and hospitals but thankfully was persuaded against such things by a reminder that both my local hospitals have the norovirus at present and that was the last thing I needed right now. Luckily he saw the sense in what we'd said and laid down some ground rules.

As I was already on one set of antibiotics for my boob op and had just started a second lot that morning he was willing to give me some time but would return for a visit on Wednesday and if there was no improvement then hospital it had to be. I was to stop my diuretics until further notice and have regular hot drinks, if possible at least one an hour. I was not, under any circumstances to have anything cold, no I don't know why either. He gave me a breathing mask as my nose was so bad my canulla was ineffective. If there was any down turn he was to be called immediately. He then left and so began two and a half days of hell.

By now I couldn't breath at all through my nose and my throat was so sore and dry every breath was painful. I cover myself in Olbas oil and despite making Peter's eyes water and keeping the cats at bay it had zero effect on me. I lay propped up on pillows and Peter brought me my first mug of hot, sweet tea though to be honest he could have been serving warmed up puddle for all I could taste. By seven I'd had hot tea, Ribena and honey and lemon all tasting exactly the same. Then it was time for my line change.

There was no way I could do this myself so under instruction Peter took charge and from what I could tell did just fine. Too be honest I would not have cared at that point if he'd dropped it in the litter tray before attaching it to me. Then after a couple more drinks I settled down to sleep.

At around 0400 I woke up feeling as though I was choking. I'd slipped down the pillows and was almost flat, I'd also managed to knock off my oxygen mask. I felt as though there was a huge plug in my throat stopping me from drawing breath. I started to cough so I swung my legs out to try and sit up when the coughing changed to vomiting, I made it to the bathroom gave one almighty heave and promptly wet myself. How humiliating. Peter came rushing in to find me propped up against the bath covered in, well you can guess, and trying to cry. He cleaned me up, changed my clothes, took me back to bed then went down to start the washing machine and brought me up another drink on his way back and that is how it continued right through to past midnight. By now I'd run out of all my pj's and was going through t shirts and joggers, several sheets had also been lost to the battle. We were both totally exhausted.

I must have slept well because on Wednesday I woke up and realised I actually felt better. I got up staggered to the bathroom where I gave myself a rough wash and put on my original pair of PJ's that had made it through the cleaning cycle and were now fresh and dry.

The doctor turned up around midday and after a quick examination said there had been a slight improvement. He then wrote out yet another prescription, this time for steroids and said he'd be back on Friday. I spent most of Wednesday asleep. I still couldn't smell or taste anything but I could breathe through my nose.

Oh the joy of steroids! Today, after another good night, I woke up feeling so much better. I still cannot smell or taste but at least I can breath and although I still have my cough it is not too bad. Best of all my oxygen sats are on there way back up, a sure sign that things have turned around. Feeling too unsteady for a shower I ran a bath and took stock. I don't have to weigh myself to know that I've undone all my good work weight wise, to be honest the way my ribs are sticking out I would not be surprised if I'd lost more than I actually gained. I did think of weighing myself but I can't be bothered, once I start to eat I'll do so then, maybe the news won't be all bad.

The water soaked into the dressing on my boob and it started to peel away. I was quite pleased as I was supposed to have removed it a few days ago. The skin is a mixture of green and yellow, the scar is clean and dry, which is a big relief. I was surprised to see that the scar ran almost completely around my nipple and there is a small dent where there wasn't one before. I'm supposed to be going to the hospital tomorrow to get the result but as yet I don't know if I'll be fit enough. If I do go then it will be in the wheelchair, there is no way I'm up to riding the trike, with my trusty oxygen. I have redressed it with a bit of gauze, though this is only a precaution rather than necessity as I'm a bit squeamish about having stitches uncovered.

I've dressed and am lying on top of the bed rather than in it today. I've been gulping down my drinks as I'm incredibly thirsty all of a sudden and am craving something fizzy to drink, I will have to wait until tomorrow to see if the ban on cold drinks can be lifted. So I'm going to try and stagger downstairs later on and maybe try bowl of soup for lunch. It will taste like puddle water but at least I can imagine what it is supposed to taste like.

In the news, well I actually have no idea what is going on in the news, everything has passed me by these last few days so I've got a lot of catching up to do starting with the Strictly Results show. Yes I do know who went but I'd like to see it for myself.

So it's an afternoon of being waited on hand and foot while trying not to worry about tomorrow. I know, I know, they said they were confident it was benign but the way my luck has been running lately I'm not taking bets. If, for once, fate is on my side for a change and everything is OK then that is my very last hurdle jumped and I can look forward to next weeks trip to Papworth being positive and straightforward.

Right I have a pile of newspapers waiting, take care.