After the excitement of being home for big fellas birthday celebrations I suffered from an energy hangover like no other. I was so,so tired and it made me incredibly emotional. I had a little wobble on Tuesday but that looked like a molehill compared to Wednesdays mountain of a meltdown.
Until eventually I'm like this...
I had decided not to see anyone in the week to try and conserve energy. But the exception was of course bestie (and the baby). So she came round on Wednesday morning and it was all ok to start with. But then we got chatting and then this happened...
It all came out. Probably caused in part by the fact I only had a few hours sleep but I think the last 12 months have caught up on me.
It ended up with me like this...
Who am I kidding? I wouldn't look like that when I'm crying hysterically. It was really more like this...
And this...
Until bestie and hubby (who had again popped home for lunch only to witness a meltdown) put me to bed.
I slept for a few hours until I was woken up by a pain in my shoulder and chest. I went downstairs to get a drink but ended up feeling so terrible I just laid on the sofa. (At this point I have to mention that the housework fairy must have paid me a visit whilst I was sleeping as the dishes had been washed, the playroom tidied, the stairs swept and everywhere looked clean. Thank you fairy xx)
I was feeling so rough that I asked a friend to keep hold of the kids after school because I just couldn't face trying to look after them when infact I couldn't get off the sofa.
The pain was getting worse and it was starting to really hurt when I was breathing. I needed the loo but couldn't face going upstairs so just tried to ignore the swelling of my bladder. *Damn you house for not having a downstairs loo*
But after an hour I could ignore it no longer so stood up to go to the loo. As I did the room started to spin and I felt my legs start to give way. I sat down quickly, not wanting to pass out. After a few minutes I thought I would attempt it again. So I stood. And I'm sure you can guess what happens next.
I hit the decks.
The next thing I know hubby is coming in through the front door with the kids and finds me on the floor between the lounge and the hallway. Apparently he ushered the kids upstairs but I remember hearing the kids conversation:
Big girl: you know mums not asleep on the floor like dad says.
Big fella: has she collapsed?
Big girl: yes. Like she did in the hospital.
Big fella: you know what that means?
Together: hospital.
I don't remember too much more as I think I was passing out/not really with it due to the pain. It was excruciating. It was all around my Hickman line and radiating down my arm. My line hadn't felt right when it went in but instead of getting better it just got worse.
So hubby called an ambulance and when it arrived one of the paramedics was the one that came last time (when my line had a clot just before my holiday) and she remembered me. Thankfully she knew that st marks was the best place for me so agreed to take me there without all the usual umming and arghing and fighting over taking me to the nearest A&E.
So off we went in the ambulance with blue lights flashing, trying to force through London rush hour traffic. We got to Northwick park A&E about 7.15pm and I was put into the majors area. They didn't really know what to do with me so apart from dosing me up with morphine not a lot else happened.
The A&E doctor was lovely. He tried to get the St Marks on call doctor to come and see me but they refused. Why? I have no idea. I would love to know who it was. Northwick park didn't want to take responsibility for me because I'm a St Marks patient and so we just went round and round in circles. For hours.
The A&E doctor, bless him, refused to send me home which is what his senior wanted to do and he fought tooth and nail to get someone, anyone, to come and review me as he knew I wasn't well enough to be sent home. Eventually the Northwick park on call surgical team came to see me. They concluded that if it was a line problem, and it likely was as they'd done a load of tests and my heart was fine, then I needed to be reviewed by my team at st marks and therefore should be kept in overnight to see them in the morning. Hurray!
Around 2am (it might have been closer to 3am as I don't wear a watch and tend to lose track of time) I sent hubby home. They were moving me to the A&E observation ward soon and there was nothing else he could do by being there. He had insisted on me getting more pain relief but the lovely doctor said he couldn't give me any more morohine incase I stopped breathing. Infact he was amazed by how much I had already had because it hadn't knocked me out or sent me into respiratory arrest. I've got a tolerance after years of having this stuff. I do wonder if it will come to a point one day when it had no effect on me. And what will I do then for pain relief??
Anyway, I was moved to the observation ward, which I can only liken to a holding pen. Patients were only supposed to be there for 12 hours and then they should either be sent home or put onto a ward. I I watched plenty of people come and go during my 2 day stay. Yes that's right, I was there for 2 days.
On Thursday Dr8 came down to see me with the lovely junior doctor that I have mentioned before. From now on let's call him Dr11. Dr7 wasn't there as he was in Italy doing some cycling or running challenge thing to raise money for St Marks.
They didn't know what was causing the pain but ordered some tests to try and work it out. I had an ultrasound on my left arm and chest area to see if there were any blood clots. There weren't thank goodness. I also had a line-o-gram where they injected contrast into the Hickman line and then took X-rays. This was to see if there were any splits or holes in the line, which thankfully there weren't.
So what is causing the pain? Nobody knows. And I remained stuck on the A&E observation ward as there were no beds in st marks at all. I joked with Dr8 that I didn't mind going up to IFU and sleeping on the Z bed in the day room!
On Friday one of my friends came to visit after going round to my house and doing a supermarket sweep style dash around to collect some clothes and other bits that I needed her to bring in. She arrived, with a rather large holdall full to the brim of stuff and we sat chatting until one of the nurses came up and told her that it wasn't visiting time and she would have to leave.
This really wound me up because there were lots of elderly people on the observation ward that had a friend/relative with them. Why were they allowed and I wasn't? It wasn't as if we were being loud and disturbing other people. I could barely talk because it hurt my chest so I sat listening to her chatter away.
It was the same with the way they [the elderly] all had visits from the physios and occupational health therapists checking that they would be ok to go home. Why didn't anybody check that it was ok? Oh yes, that's right, I'm under 70. So because I'm not elderly I obviously don't need any help in the house, no mobility aids, no things like raised toilet seats or handrails. Or maybe I do and nobody has ever bothered to ask. So because of my age I'm just expected to manage. And if I need a walking stick, or wheelchair, or anything for the house then I will have to fork out for it. Grrrrr, it really winds me up.
So I told my friend that she would be able to stay if we said she was helping me with my lunch. She clung to the cup of soup I had been given and when the nurse came again I told him that she was helping to feed me, just like the elderly patients visitors were. He huffed and rolled his eyes but he knew there was nothing he could do about it.
After having some lunch, my friend helped me to wash my hair and got everything ready for me to have a wash. She drew the line at showering me ;) It was so nice to get clean after lying in bed in the same clothes for 36 hours.
Not long after coming out of the shower I was told that I was moving up to IFU. Hip hip bloody hooray.
NB x
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