Home for Christmas

Just over two weeks ago I was rushed into Princess Alexandra Hospital by ambulance after suffering from rigours, hallucinations and a temperature of nearly 42 degrees. The day before I had been perfectly well, had been to the shops with Lois and even treated myself to a few new bits to wear on Christmas Day. So how did I get so ill in less than 24 hours?

As I said I had spent the day with Lois and of course the baby. Her house had been affected by the dreaded diahorrea and sickness bug (D&S) the week previously but all symptoms had been gone a good few days so we thought it safe to get together. I tend to try and avoid people with illnesses and bugs, particularly those of the gastric type, because my immune system is weakened and I can pick them up so easily and will be much, much sicker than a normal person if I get ill. 

We had enjoyed catching up and had just arrived home from the shops to find that the baby had been sick. Without even thinking I scooped him up, cleaned him off and stuck the yucky clothes and blankets in the washing machine. With hindsight I should have stayed well clear because I woke up drenched in sweat at around 2.30am and promptly threw up. And it went everywhere. 

I woke Hubby up and although he's seen some sights while I've been ill, one thing he cannot stomach is other people being sick. I send him downstairs to get the sick bowl- every house has one doesn't it? I remember fondly the hours I spent hugging the sick bowl at my parents house after particularly brilliant nights out in my teenage years! 

Anyway, I'm covered pretty much head to toe and trying my best to contain the vomit on the bed because I don't want it going all over the cream carpets. But then it's seeping through the sheets onto the mattress and it's just typical that the mattress protectors aren't on when you need them to be and the whole thing is a bloody nightmare. I'm sure you've all experienced something similar. 

We manage to cover enough of the carpet with old towels to make a path for me to get out of the bedroom and into the bathroom, and I'm left there while Hubby attempts the clean up process, heaving continuously bless him. I somehow struggle out of my pjs which is made all the more difficult because I'm hooked up to my TPN and the wires and the rucksack are getting in the way. I get into the shower, again hindered by the rucksack and wires and try to get clean whilst avoiding washing off my pain killer patch, getting the Hickman line wet or the bloody rucksack which is really doing my head in by now. 

I can't go back to bed as Hubby has got the mattress on it's side in the hallway and is trying to clean up the sick that did find it's way into the carpet so instead I grab my dressing gown and head downstairs. I'm shivering and my whole body aches which at the time I thought was a result of the sickness bug. 

I wake up in the morning about 7.30 after a few hours sleep but find that I cannot move at all. I can't sit up, my limbs feel leaden and my head is throbbing. I cannot even contemplate helping Hubby to get the kids ready for school and despite the guilt I simply lay there. Very still. Because the less I move the less I hurt. 

I decide that it would be best to spend the day upstairs as the thought of going up and down the stairs every time I need the loo was too much. (We really, really must look into getting a downstairs loo sorted out). I climb the stairs on my hands and knees with Hubby gently pushing from the rear and when I make it to the top I just lie on the landing having felt as though I had climbed Mount Everest. I make it into Big Girls bed and that is as far as I go for the whole day. 

Hubby must have been suitably worried about me as he worked from home  although I barely remember anything that day as I spent it mostly asleep, tossing and turning as I burned up with a fever. In the back of my mind I had the suspicion growing that this might be a line infection as all the symptoms fit but then I clearly had the S&D bug so it was probably just that. The only way to know for sure if it was a line infection would be to hook up again. If I hooked up and didn't feel any worse then all the symptoms were as a result of the bug. But if when I hooked my temperature spiked and my body aches were worse then chances are it would be an infection and I would have to go into hospital. 

I don't normally hook up until 8 or 9pm but I thought that if I hooked up at that time and did have an infection then it would be a nightmare to try and find someone to come and look after the kids. So I decided at around 6pm to get my TPN and connect; much to Hubby's dismay as he was about to go out the door to take Big Fella football training. 

I hooked up and you don't need to be a genius to work out what happened next. My temperature started to rise and then the rigours started. The rigours are one of the worst things I have experienced and I hate them. They happen when your temperature rises and gets so high that you actually start to feel cold again. My whole body felt to me like I was freezing cold and the shivering soon turned into the characteristic convulsion like movements. Your whole body tenses up and involuntarily moves, I guess a bit like an epileptic fit, and it hurts and it so uncomfortable. Your natural reaction is to try and get warm so I snuggled under the quilt with my hot water bottles hoping that it would stop. 

When Hubby came into the room he immediately stopped the TPN infusion and called an ambulance. The ambulance people arrived in a car and I remember hearing them calling for urgent backup as I was going to need to get to hospital fast as my temperature had gone over 40. 

I don't remember much about the time in Big Girls room but I do remember not being able to breathe properly at one point and I honestly, hand on heart, not being dramatic thought I was going to die. It was absolutely terrifying trying to breathe and not being able to get enough air and just thinking 'This is it. I'm going to die in my daughters bed. That's really gonna screw her up!'

I am told that I had ECGs taken, was put on oxygen and had other tests taken. Hubby told me that my temperature was so high that I started to hallucinate and that the hallucinations I experienced terrified me so much I was screaming out and the only way I was calmed down was by the paramedic telling me over and over that I was safe and to close my eyes and not look. I remember being in a very awkward position in Big Girls single bed and not being able to move because everything hurt too much and also the fact that her room was now so full of people and medical equipment you couldn't see the carpet and we were all crammed in like sardines. I can remember looking at their big, black boots on the cream carpet and just thinking that it was going to be ruined. I think by the time they got me out of her tiny bedroom it was a real mess with medical bits, hot water bottles, medication, tissues and all sorts of other stuff all over. 

Luckily after Hubby called the ambulance he called one of our very good friends to come and sit with the kids. To that friend: you know who you are and big thank yous for keeping the kids calm, tidying up and just for being amazing you. We are so lucky that we have people to call on in an emergency like that. 

There was no question of me going to St Marks as the paramedics were concerned that I could take a turn for the worse in the ambulance so we went to the nearest A&E at Princess Alexandra Hospital. Once there I was rushed into 'Rescuss' because my temperature was still very high and my blood pressure dangerously low. 

I don't recall many details of this period either as I was so poorly but Hubby told me that they wanted to start fluids and IV antibiotics to control the sepsis but they couldn't get a cannula into me. This will come as no suprise to regular readers of this blog as my veins are tiny and collapse at the mere mention of a needle. The record number of attempts for cannula insertion is 20 with a Doctor on each arm and a nurse trying on my foot. Not fun. They can't use the Hickman line because of the infection. If they were to put a drip into the Hickman line then it would simply force the infection further into my blood stream and make me even more unwell. 

They must have got one in me as I vaguely remember having fluids up when I moved from A&E to the ward. Because of the S&D episodes I had to be put into a side room so that I didn't pass it on to other patients. The only ward with one available was the cardiac ward so that's where I went. 

The days I spent on that ward are a bit of a blur. I think I was there for 2 or 3 days but I was that ill I didn't get out if bed except to use the loo. They had to keep a commode right next to the bed as I barely had enough energy to transfer to that; there was no way I could have gone to the toilet. It's funny how you lose all dignity, or should that be pride, when you're ill. You don't care that every person that comes into your room wants to examine you from top to bottom (literally!) or the fact that you've not showered or brushed your teeth in days. It's an achievement to be able to turn over in bed, to make it to the commode without having an accident and to keep the buzzer within reach at all times. 

One thing I do remember though is waking up to a giant, throbbing hand. 

This happened when my cannula tissued and the liquid from the drip went into the soft tissue of my hand instead of into my vein. It was incredibly painful and touch and go as to whether my wedding ring would have to be cut off. 

So because the previous cannula was gone and there was absolutely no other good veins to use I had to go and have a central line inserted into my neck. 

A needle is inserted into the big vein in your neck and then it goes right into the heart in the same way a Hickman line does. The procedure had to be carried out in theatre and I remember it was 1.30am when the porter came for me. Central lines are usually done at this time as it's when the theatres are quiet and not being used for big operations or pre booked ones. It took quite a while for it to be put in (under local anesthetic but with no other pain relief) and I think it was about 3.30/4am by the time I was back on the ward. This took place while I was still on the cardiac ward. 

Even with the line in place nobody put up any fluids. I was so dehydrated after not having had any TPN or fluids now for nearly 3 days. I was on my knees and for the second time in a week I thought that I was going to die. Because the nurses speciality was the heart and not Gastro, and certainly not Gastro patients with a medical history as long as your arm they didn't really know what to do with me. So they just left me in the side room. I begged them to put up fluids but they said that the Gastro doctors would come and sort it all out. 

And come they did. The young Scottish doctor came into the room, took one look at me and went off shouting for the Sister. I could hear her shouting "Why has she not had fluids put up. She's so ill. Can't you see that?!"  And then there was a flurry of activity as nurses came in to do observations on me, the Sister put up some fluids and other medications and the doctor started her assessment. 

She was horrified that I had been left to get into such a state and said that I needed to be put onto the Gastro ward so that I could be properly monitored. But because I needed a side room this took a bit longer to arrange but it was eventually sorted and I was moved. My temperature had come down but my blood pressure was still very, very low as was my Haemaglobin. The doctor said that I needed to have a blood transfusion but I said that I wasn't sure if I wanted it. I find the idea of someone else's blood in my body very strange. I think that about organ donation too. If I was offered someone's bowel I'm not sure whether I could take it. I don't know if mentally I could deal with having part of a dead person inside of me. In the end I didn't have the blood transfusion and my levels did increase slightly on their own. 

The Gastro doctors liased with the team at St Marks so for once it seemed as though everyone was working together. St Marks advised to stop the TPN feeding as that literally feeds the infection and to lock antibiotics into the Hickman line (give a dose big enough to sit in the line but not pass into the bloodstream). Other antibiotics were given through the central line in my neck and at one point I think I was on four different types of antibiotics and there was barely room on the drip stand!

The sickness was a one off event but not the diahorrea. Let's just say it was running out as fast as it was going in. And my goodness did my tummy hurt. The doctors were concerned about how sore my abdomen was and arranged for a CT scan to take place. This isn't one where you go into a tight tunnel (that's a MRI scan) but they do inject you with contrast to make things show up better on the scan. When the contrast goes in you get a strange sensation of warmth down below and then you feel as though you've wet yourself- but you don't! 

The scan showed that my gallbladder was a bit enlarged and that I had some fluid in my abdomen but nothing that they were worried about. One surgeon did come to examine me one day (I have no idea which day I have lost all sense of time in here!) but after he had finished prodding and poking he said that my blood tests showed that my liver results were worrying and that someone would come and discuss these with me. I told him that I have liver disease and it was probably just that showing up, but he said it wasn't and so I started to panic. 

I text a few of the people closest to me and was told not to worry, that it was probably nothing but I couldn't help stressing. My liver and it's functioning always seems to lurk in the background of hospital stays and in the past I've had scans and ultrasounds on it with nothing conclusive being found. When I saw the Gastro consultant looking after me I raised these worries with her and she said that it was her opinion that the tests were skewed on account of all the antibiotics I was on. But to be on the safe side they sent me for an ultrasound of my liver, gallbladder and all the other bits in that area. 

The ultrasound showed that everything was fine. My liver disease hadn't worsened and the blood tests were starting to show that the levels were slowly returning to normal. It had all been a big panic over nothing. It just shows how a doctor can make what to them is a completely innocent remark but the patient interprets it differently and it causes a great deal of worry. 

My liver wasn't the only thing worrying me. Being stuck in hospital means that I worry endlessly about Hubby and the kids- are they ok, do they have enough clean clothes, what are they eating, who is doing the school runs? These and a hundred other questions go round and round in my mind. I try my best to help from my bedside by lining up people that can help and support Hubby because he's very proud and hates to ask for help and admit that he can't do it all. 

And then there's the things that I miss out on. For instance we had just been and bought our Christmas tree the evening that I took ill. We had decided to leave it overnight so that the branches could drop with the intention of decorating it the following day but by then I was in hospital. So Hubby had to decorate it with the kids and his parents who had come to stay to help him out. So that's something that I've missed out on. 

Big Girls class was going carol singing at the local supermarket and I missed that too. The mums were great and sent me loads of videos and photos but it doesn't change the fact that yet again Big Girl didn't have her mum there to watch her like all the other kids. I was starting to get a bit down. The kids were asking when I would be home and whether I would be home in time for Christmas and my heart was breaking because I just didn't know. But how do you tell them that? You don't. You tell them that 'yes, of course you'll be home' and 'not to worry' while secretly hoping that's going to be the case. 

I think my parents must have sensed that a pity party was brewing because my Dad decided to 'pop down' and visit. As you do. But that's what my Dad is like. He drives 150 miles as though he's just nipping to the corner shop to pick up a loaf of bread! My Mum wanted to come but she was working. He had even phoned the ward to check that they would let him in outside of the rigid visiting times of 3-4.30pm and 6.30-8pm. He's done it before and spending the day with him always cheers me up. 

He helped me to wash my hair- it's very difficult to do with the line in my neck and the three ports dangling down. Over the years I've learnt to roll a towel up and wrap it around my neck to protect the line and then wash my hair upside down. That's why it's easier to have someone to help you. Unfortunately the nurses are too busy to help as they always seem to be understaffed and running up and down the ward trying to get endless lists of jobs done and fill in ridiculous amounts of paperwork. 

Anyway, I'm going off at a tangent which is why my blog posts end up being so long! Dad found a wheelchair and he took me off the ward and down to the cafe for a change of scenery. I had really been fancying curly chips which I know they do in this hospital restaurant but Sod's law was that they didn't have any that day as they were doing Christmas lunch and had reduced what else they were cooking. I hadn't eaten in a week; infact nothing had passed my lips, not even a drink of water as my tummy hurt so much but I was fancying trying something. I ended up having 6 chips and aswell as really enjoying them I also felt full up because I had not been eating. 

It was soon time for Dad to head home though and he left mid afternoon to miss the rush hour. I was exhausted from his visit and settled down for a nap. It was a long one as I slept right through to the next day!

When I woke up the nurses asked me quite frequently about my bowel motions and whether I still had diahorrea. I did and when I told them that they sighed and said "I hope that's not another one". It turns out that there was Norovirus confirmed in a patient on the ward and as the day went on another one got it, then a nurse went home and then another patient. It spread through the ward like wildfire and the nurses were dropping like flies. 

The Charge nurse came and asked me for a stool sample, gave me some indignation leaflets on Norovirus and told me that the ward had been closed. That meant it wouldn't accept any new patients, even if there were empty beds, and that visitors must be extra vigilant when coming into the ward. No children were allowed to visit. As I was already in a side room I was quite lucky as I had limited contact with any of the other patients. To be honest the only patient I spoke to was the bloke in the room next door and that was only because we had been in St Marks IFU ward together so we knew each other already. And because I was using the commode in my room still I hadn't been in the shared bathrooms where I would be likely to pick up the germs. I had already been generous with Hubby and shared my S&D bug with him so he was staying away from the ward already. 

My sister had offered to come down to help out. She had kept back 3 days of annual leave to use in an emergency and we were grateful that she had. Hubby had a lot on at work, including his Christmas night out which is less of a 'let your hair down and get pissed' sort of night and more a 'networking opportunity' and a chance to put your DJ on and make a good impression to the powers that be. Hubby has missed lots of events, dinners, away days, meetings with overnight stays etc due to me being ill or in hospital so it was quite important that he went along to this. 

This work event happens to be on his birthday so we had planned to celebrate the night before by going to see 'The Snowman' stage show in the West End. It was something that we had wanted to do last year but I was too unwell. So when we saw the tickets come on sale earlier in the year we decided to go for it and hope that it would turn out to be on one of my good days. But fate had conspired against me again and I was going to miss it. Hubby didn't want to take the kids on his own knowing that I would be stuck in a hospital bed while they were out having fun but the only other option was that we gave the tickets away. I could have said that if I wasn't going then they shouldn't go either and that we would go next year all together but what would be the point in that? It would make 4 people miserable instead of just 1 and I couldn't be so selfish. It's just not me. I'm not saying I'm a saint. Far from it. But like most other Mums I would sacrifice my own happiness to make my kids happy. That's just what you do when you're a parent. 

Kelly coming down also meant that he would have an extra pair of hands and after I insisted that they went Hubby relented and took them. They all said it was amazing and magical. Hubby said that towards the end Big Fella had tapped him on the shoulder and asked how long was left. When Hubby was telling me this I assumed it was because he needed the toilet but it wasn't. When Hubby told him about 10 minutes Big Fella sighed and said that he didn't wang it to end. How cute is that! 

If I were to allow myself to feel bitter I could say these are the moments that this illness is robbing me of. It's taking away the chances for me to go out and do stuff with the kids, to watch the carol singing, the football matches. I even missed Big Girls first netball match. But if I allow the anger and the bitterness to grow it just eats away at you and sours life, even the good bits. It's really hard but I have to try and look for the silver lining of all situations. I said recently on Facebook that sometimes the silver lining might be threadbare but it's always there and that's what I have to hang onto. Yes, I'm pissed off. Yes, I've had enough and the thought that I might be in here for Christmas both angers and terrifies me. I can't begin to imagine what it will do to the kids if I don't get home in time for Christmas. But there's nothing I can do about it. It's out of my hands. And I have to believe that everything will work out ok in the long run. That the Big Man upstairs has a grand plan and these setbacks are all part of it. Everything happens for a reason. 

And I reckon Hubby must cling onto that too. Especially when for the second year running he has woken up alone in bed on his birthday. Luckily I am fairly organised and had bought his gifts already but they weren't wrapped, the kids hadn't written cards and that's where Kelly came in. She stepped into my shoes and sorted everything out so that at least he had a sort of birthday. Because he was working and then at his work do I didn't even get to see him. I had a quick phone call at 7am before the kids woke up and that was that. All of this puts a tremendous strain on our marriage. It's understandable why some couples split up as it's very difficult to keep a relationship going. There are times when we barely see each other for weeks on end if I'm in hospital and then when I'm home it's full on caring for me. But he's an amazing man. And I'm very lucky to have him. 

Missing out on things also makes you appreciate the small stuff more. So when the kids do come to visit me at the weekend for a few hours I try to have real quality time with them. Last Sunday Hubby had some Christmas shopping he needed to do so I suggested that he brought some games with him when he came to visit. That way I could sit and play with the kids while he nipped off for an hour or so. Because of the norovoris I met them in the restaurant and the games marathon began. 

We firstly played snakes and ladders all together and then Hubby left to do his stuff. I got the kids a nice healthy lunch of chips and beans and then we (ironically) played Greedy Gorilla, a game designed to teach kids about healthy eating where you feed all the 'junk food' to the gorilla. We soon worked out though that the junk food was all the stuff Big Fella loves to eat- 2015 has to be the year where we work on his diet!

After that we played Ludo, Uno and Kerplunk which is my favourite. We had such a great time and there wasn't an apple device in sight! But the concentration of playing the games and the responsibility of looking after the kids on my own had really tired me out and after they left I went to bed for a nap. This was again one of my super-size naps as I didn't wake up until 18 hours later! (The doctors do wake me for medication but I take them in a trance like state and quite often don't realise I've had them!)

When I saw the consultant on Monday morning I had hoped that I would be nearly ready to go home as I was sure I had almost had 7 days of IV antibiotics which is the length of the course needed to kill the bugs. But that wasn't the case. Yes, I had been having antibiotics for 7 days but the first 3 days I had been given the wrong ones. What happens is when you go into hospital with a line infection they start treating you with a general antibiotic. They then take blood cultures and they are grown in the lab. The microbiology team then advise the doctors on the best antibiotics for the particular bug(s) you have. If you're lucky it will be the antibiotic they have started you off with. But not in my case. The bug I had was one that was easily picked up as it's present everywhere so it didn't matter how clean I was. Unfortunately I think I'm just very susceptible to picking up these infections despite me being so careful whenever I use my line.) So they had switched and I had only had 4 days worth meaning that I had to stay in longer. I was really disappointed as I had made the mistake of building myself up to go home on Tuesday when really I should have waited until I had seen the consultant. It's nobodies fault and of course it's important that I stay in and get the full course of antibiotics but I was itching to get home. 

Hubby was trying to juggle working full time, looking after the kids, doing homework, planning for non uniform days, making sure the kids wrote their Christmas cards and gave presents to their friends along with doing housework and laundry and sorting out the remaining stuff that needed doing to get us ready for Christmas. There were times when I spoke to him on the phone and he sounded so stressed and I felt do guilty. He was trying to keep all those plates spinning while I was just lying in bed all day. I know that to get better requires me to rest and sleep lots but I wished that I could help him out. Plus I had run out of clean clothes and I didn't want to stress him out by asking him to come up to the hospital in the week. 

I asked the consultant if I could have day release and although it's not something they generally do she agreed. I guess most patients in Princess Alexandra Hospital live locally and have friends and family that can come and visit them. Usually I would have plenty of visitors but it's the time of year when people are either incredibly busy or full of colds and germs meaning that pretty much nobody comes. So I spent long periods of time on my own in my room trying to avoid the norovirus and staring at this wall. 

I was slowly going a bit mad and the prospect of going home, even if just got a few hours was exciting. Lois came to pick me up but before we went home I wanted to stop at the local supermarket to get a liquid to add to the washing detergent to kill off any bugs that were on my clothes from hospital. The only problem was that I didn't have any clothes so I ended up going in the shop in my pjs and flip flops. What a sight I must have looked. But I don't really care. Whilst there I made a mad dash to get some things for a friend in another hospital. He had been admitted with a line infection too (must be that time of year!) and I know his family don't get up to the hospital very much. There was also the possibility that he could be in over Christmas so I wanted to make sure he had a present to open so I got a few little treats to go in a parcel for him. 

I had written a list of what I wanted to do at home so the minute Lois dropped me off I began! I stripped off and shoved all the washing in the machine along with the dettol bug killing liquid. I then had a shower as I wanted to make sure I didn't bring any bugs home with me. Whilst I was showering I thought that I might aswell clean the bathroom (does anyone else do this?) as that's something that Hubby never does. He says he doesn't notice it but I don't know how that's possible. It must be a man thing as I know friends husbands are the same. 

I decide to weigh myself while I'm cleaning the bathroom and find that I've lost a stone in 2 weeks. I knew I had lost some weight but I hadn't expected it to be that much! Every cloud eh? 

Lois came back with baby and husband in tow. He was off work after having a shoulder operation and she thought it would be good for him to get out of the house. Lois helped me give the kids rooms a quick tidy and then I left each of the kids a little note for them to find when they came home from school. Then I had to go to the loft and sort out the last of the Christmas presents. Don't panic, the loft is converted into a bedroom, I wasn't climbing ladders into a loft loft. 

I was struggling to remember where I had hidden the presents I had bought for Hubby. Because of all the meds I'm on my memory is terrible but Hubby will benefit from that this year. Because I kept forgetting that I had bought him stuff I bought him some more bits and then when I did find the ones I hid I realised that his Santa sack will be quite full this year. He deserves it though- he's definitely on Santas good list!

While I pottered about getting Christmas cards and my address book to take back to hospital, re packing my bag with clean pjs and socks and downloading programmes onto the iPad so I had something to watch in hospital Lois was busy doing the dishes and cleaning the kitchen. I also decided to bring the laptop back with me as the price they charge for the TV in hospital is nothing short of scandalous. Here are some pictures I took showing the prices...

It's run by a private company and is clearly profit driven. As a special offer they are giving you free TV between 7am and 11am during December. And wait for it, here's the big one, on Christmas Day 7am to 5pm. But that's only channels 1-5. I can't believe that the wouldn't give patients the whole day for free on Christmas Day and let them watch all the channels! So unless you pay their disgustingly high prices you won't get to see any of the evening shows or be able to watch a movie. The ward doesn't have a dayroom so patients won't even be able to socialise. Could you imagine if they did that in the prisons? The prisoners would be outraged not to have TV after 5pm and probably say it was a breach of their human rights or something. 

After a couple of hours of rushing around I was starting to get very wary. I hadn't used stairs in nearly 2 weeks yet I had dashed up and down mine more times than I can remember and it was starting to tire me. There were still things left in my list but I think if I had attempted to do them I would have needed picking up off the floor. On the way back to the hospital we stopped at the post office to send the parcel to my friend in Addenbrooks hospital and I picked up a box of biscuits for the nurses. 

As soon as I got back to the ward I was begging for pain relief and IV fluids to be put up as I was feeling very dehydrated. I got into bed and had a nap (this time I didn't sleep right through, I actually managed to wake up at dinner time and have something to eat!) I was pleased that I had been able to do some bits around the house to help Hubby and I had seen for myself the laundry pile, the number of presents left to wrap, the state of the house etc so when I spoke with Hubby on the phone and he was panicking about everything that needed doing I knew it wasn't that bad. A big thank you to Lois and her husband who gave up their day to help me when I'm sure they had stuff that they needed to do themselves. 

Coming back to hospital is hard. That's the down side of day release. I get home and I want to stay there. It's where I belong, not in this bloody hospital. But I knew I had to come back and complete the course of antibiotics otherwise I would only be back again with another infection a few days later. And that would really spoil Christmas. 

The antibiotics finished on Wednesday and since then they have started the re-feeding programme. Because I've had quite a long time without being fed my TPN if they were to just start giving me my 2 litre bags overnight like I do at home it could send my electrolytes crazy and actually make me ill. So I have to have the feed gradually reintroduced. The first night I had a third of a 2 litre bag, last night 1500ml and tonight I will have a full bag. Every day the doctors take blood and check whether they need to add anything like magnesium or sodium to the bag but my bloods have all come back normal so that's good. 

As long as the feed tonight goes well and there's no problems with my bloods tomorrow then I will be going home. Hubby and the kids popped in to see me tonight as they had to bring in a bag of TPN for me and it was really hard hearing the kids say that they wish I was coming home and asking me if I was sure I would be home for Christmas. I desperately wanted to tell them that I would be home tomorrow but Hubby and I decided a long time ago that we don't tell them until we are 100% sure it's going to happen. We've learnt that the hard way. So I can't wait to see their faces tomorrow when they come to visit me and I tell them that they will be taking me home. 

Thank God I will be home in time for Christmas. I may have missed out pretty much the whole run up to the big day but that can't be helped. I will be at home with my family on Christmas Day and that's the most important thing. That's the best Christmas present I could have hoped for. 

NB x