Wednesday, 3 April 2013

Lungs On Fire

This blog is going out a little earlier than I'd planned because I'm home feeling rough.

I knew I was in trouble yesterday to be fair. I was short tempered, extraordinarily tired, even though it was my first day back after a long weekend, a not so delicate shade of purple and coughed and sneezed throughout the day. I was hoping that it was just the snivels like I had before and could be brushed off. Not so unfortunately, when I got up this morning my chest was burning and had that familiar 'heavy' feeling. Despite my New Year's Resolution I stood in the bathroom for several minutes torn between the sensible option, going back to bed, or the old me option of 'just getting on with it'. Thankfully sense won that internal tug of war so here I am, feeling slightly guilty but also pleased with myself. It is after all only the second day off sick since February so I'm doing really well for me. If I rest as much as I can and make sure I take my antibiotics I should be back on my feet in days rather than weeks and fighting fit for Monday.

For now though I've been ordered onto the settee and am being plied with hot tea, Complan and fresh fruit. My appetite has taken a dive and I couldn't face breakfast so I'm eating and drinking what I can. My youngest has taken over the kitchen duties and is insistent on using his newly gained medical knowledge to 'give me the once over'. My pulse, blood pressure, oxygen sats have all been checked and my chest listened too. I've had my oxygen mask slapped onto my face as the sats are down to 79% and told in no uncertain terms not to take it off. I am to be checked again in a couple of hours to see if there has been any improvement. All my doctors, friends and family say how lucky I am to have a medic in the family who can look after me. At the moment all I am thinking is that it is bloody annoying.

I have phoned my GP who is happy to let me get on with it as 'if you say you have an infection I believe you', but will arrange an x-ray and some blood tests for Friday to check the tablets are working. Since going on the transplant list my brilliant GP has become even more attentive and makes sure all the stops are pulled out to get me better as quickly as possible when I ring in sick. I can't say I'm not being looked after.

Yesterday was busy, busy, busy.

It started with the now familiar morning ritual of scrapping ice off the car. When will it get warmer? I'm fed up of not just being able to get into my car and drive in the mornings. Then on the way to work I tangled with that damned Pheasant again. I swear he knows what time I go through 'his patch' every morning and lies in wait for me. This time I thought I'd got him despite swerving around the blighter but no, my rear view mirror showed him sauntering back into the hedgerow, chest puffed out with pride. One day I'm going to give up trying to miss.

How is it possible, at twenty past seven on the first day after Easter weekend to have two new sets of traffic lights? Of course I got to each one at just the wrong moment and spent at least five minutes just sitting while absolutely nothing came the other way. Needless to say I came home via the duel carriageway and motorway.

I also received a miserygram from the Warfarin clinic complaining that I'd missed an appointment last Thursday, an appointment I'd not received notification of and couldn't have attended if I did as I was working. The letter gave me a slap on the hand and arranged for another appointment on, yes you guessed it, Thursday. So I rang them up when I got home and had a moan and to her credit the receptionist said she didn't know why they had done that as my records clearly state I come in on Fridays. A new appointment is being sent out.

Well time for a nap, I can't get over how tired I feel. Hopefully I'll be able to report an improvement tomorrow.