I'm afraid I have some bad news...

"I'm afraid I have some bad news" the doctor told me on Wednesday. They're the words that make you stop breathing for a few seconds and your stomach do a flip. They're the words you never want to hear come out of your doctors mouth. Ever. But they did. So to say the last few days have been a bit shit would be a bit of an understatement. 

On Monday I had felt OK and my observations (blood pressure, temperature, pulse etc) were good but on 

Tuesday afternoon I just didn't feel so great. Hubby said that he rang me on his way home from work and that because I sounded pretty poorly he headed straight for the hospital instead of going home and stayed there until he was finally kicked out at 11pm, way, way after visiting hours were officially over. My temperature had started spiking, going from normal to really high in the blink of an eye, and according to Hubby I wasn't really with it which was why he was so reluctant to leave me. The cannula that they had put in didn't last long so they were struggling to get fluids and IV paracetamol in me which wasn't helping to reduce my temperature. 

On Wednesday morning he popped in on his way to work to check I was ok and although I had flu like body aches and pains and felt like shit I wasn't as bad as the night before. I was ill enough however to have to cancel the ketamine infusion I was due to have at City hospital. For those not from Nottingham there are 2 hospitals in Nottingham: the QMC and the City hospital. Only the QMC has an A&E and is the bigger of the two but both are good hospitals with their own specialities. The pain clinic that I attend in Nottingham is based at the City hospital and I was due to have a ketamine infusion in their day surgery unit. The last time I had one was in February and the effects had well and truly worn off so I was ready for another. I had spoken to the sister in charge on my ward and she said that she was happy for me to go over to City hospital to have the ketamine  infusion and rather than have to use hospital transport, the non emergency ambulances, I was going to use the courtesy bus that runs between the two sites. I had been looking forward to getting out of the hospital and off the ward for a bit even if it was just to trade it in for a different ward in a different hospital. But I would have the freedom of the journey and the chance to stretch my legs and get some fresh air to boot. But it didn't happen. I had made the decision on Tuesday evening that I wouldn't go, even if I felt a bit better on Wednesday morning and looking back that was definitely the right thing to do because by mid morning the high temperatures returned and I could barely get out of bed. In fact the only time I did get out of bed was to use the toilet- thank God I only I had to take 2 steps to go from bed to loo! 

The doctor said that he didn't know why it was happening because I was on antibiotics and that they should have the infection under control. Erm, obviously not. Are they the right antibiotics? I ask him. Am I on the right dose? He didn't inspire confidence when he said "I think so" but he said he was going to ring microbiology and double check with them. They did some more blood cultures from the Hickman line and the Picc line. These are special blood tests done under aseptic conditions, that's to say it's all done in a sterile way, and sent to microbiology for them to see if any bugs grow from the samples. Depending on those results the picc and/or Hickman might need to come out. The picc line was starting to feel sore and I was certain that it was infected. The doctors were obviously concerned too as they decided to stop using it. 

But it was just after lunchtime that the doctor came and said those words. I could tell something was wrong because his whole demeanour was different; the way he walked into the room, the way he didn't make eye contact, the way he was clutching a bundle of papers when he was normally empty handed. I knew he had bad news and his sentence that titles this blog post confirmed it. 

He had been in earlier with his stethoscope and asked to listen to my heart which is pretty standard for doctors. Deep breaths in and out, lean forward so I can listen from the back- I think we all recognise those sentences. But he had spent a long going all over my chest, particularly the left and hadn't even asked me to do the breathing thing which at the time I registered but didn't think too much of. But when he told me that there was a chance that my heart was infected I nearly fell off the bed. He went on to tell me that when he had been listening to my chest earlier he was listening to hear whether there was a certain sound that was indicative of the infection and that he couldn't rule it out. The way to find out for sure was to have some specific tests done- an ECG and an echocardiogram- and that he would do the ECG in a few minutes and had ordered the echo. They weren't wasting any time were they!! He left the room and I reached for my phone to ring Hubby. It went straight through to voicemail- bloody typical!- so I emailed him knowing that he would pick it up fairly quickly. He text back to say that he was in a meeting and couldn't talk so I replied by telling him to read the email. Next thing I know I've got a text saying that he was leaving work and coming straight to the hospital. Sometimes I do think that in the pecking order I rank well below work with Hubby but when it really matters it's nice to know he will drop everything to come and hold my hand. 

The doctor came and did the ECG and went away to compare it to the one I had had done in A&E when I first came in. Five minutes later he popped his head in to say that it was fine but still wanted to do the echocardiogram to cover all bases. But when he came back again he had that look again. A look that told me that there was more bad news. Apparently he had spoken to microbiology and they had told him that they had grown another bug. I had a candida infection, which is one of the most serious infections you can have in your line. It's a yeast infection and the spores can cause blindness, kidney problems and even death. I needed to have my Hickman and picc line removed and start additional antifungal antibiotics straight away. They told me that they had me on the theatre list tomorrow morning to have the Hickman line removed and that I was the first patient so would be called about 9am to go down. 

The anaesthetist came to consent me around 8am on Thursday morning and I was gowned up and taped up all my jewellery ready to go to theatre. You don't have a general anaesthetic when a Hickman line is removed, you don't even get sedated, there's no need. It's done in theatre because it needs to be done in sterile conditions and you don't get much more sterile than an operating theatre do you? Having said that I've had one taken out in the anaesthetic room (that's the room where they put people to sleep before an operation, which leads into the theatre and I have even had one taken out on the IFU ward at St Marks because  it needed to come out and they couldn't get a slot in theatre quickly enough. The procedure only takes about 20 minutes and isn't painful. That's because you get local anaesthetic around the area where the incisions are be made. You do feel the pulling and prodding as the doctor carries out the removal but it's over and done with before you know it and then you're sent back to the ward with just 5 dissolvable stitches in your chest and a dressing covering them. 

I had been back on the ward long enough to eat my toast and drink my coffee before the consultant ward round hit my room. The consultant stood by my bed surrounded by his gaggle of junior doctors, the ward sister and a dietician all at his beck and call ready to do his bidding. It's an interesting few minutes watching the junior doctors try to please the consultant while he attempts to show them what an amazing, wise mentor he is. He wanted to stop my IV fluids so that the cannula wasn't being used other than for IV fluids. The idea being that the less it's used the longer it should last. Only problem with that I told him is that I need the fluids otherwise I will dehydrate, either up and die. (OK, so maybe I didn't quite put it exactly like that but you get the gist.) After some discussion we agreed on 1 litre a night which is half what I normally have but a whole lot better than none. 

Not long after the ward round finished I had my Picc line removed. It's much easier to take out than a Hickman line and although it must be done aseptically it can be done on the ward. It took just a minute to pull it out and stick on dressing. And that was that. I had woken up with 2 lines and now had none. And they say things come in threes don't they? Well the lady came to do the echocardiogram. It's a mobile scanning unit so they're able to do it at your bedside. It's not the most dignified of tests- it involved me lying topless while the sonographer used an ultrasound scanner to check my heart. She had me lying in different positions so she could see different parts of my heart and she had to press quite hard at times so I was left feeling a bit sore afterwards. She couldn't tell me anything she told me at the start, she had to go and report on it and then the doctor would tell me the results and she had the perfect poker face throughout. Fingers crossed its all ok. The consultant did say that it didn't really matter if my heart was infected (not the best way to put it but that's consultants for you) because I'm already on the antibiotics to treat it. I would just have to take them for longer. I think that was his way to reassure me but that didn't stop me from worrying. 

Hubby had been working from home and came up in the afternoon to see me. We went to Costa and got a fruit cooler each. It was warm and sunny so we decided to go and drink it outside. But we noticed that there is nowhere to sit outside of the hospital. We couldn't find one bench to sit down on so we asked at the reception desk at the main entrance. Apparently all the benches were removed in an attempt to stop people from smoking there so now you have all the healthy smokers (and I say that in the loosest way possible) standing up smoking and all the ill patients who have escaped the ward and come outside for a change of scenery and some fresh air (loosest sense again because of said smokers) either having to use wheelchairs so they can sit down or standing for a couple of minutes and then struggling to make their way back to the very ward they were wanting to get away from. It's not right is it? I can see what they were trying to achieve but actually the people that have lost out are the inpatients who might want to go outside and read the paper or drink their coffee or just sit so they're somewhere different, they're outside and not cooped up inside on their bed. Their the losers because the smokers will carry on smoking regardless of whether they have somewhere to sit or not. 

So Hubby and I came back inside and I just about made it back to the lifts after needing to stop quite a few times. As we come out the lift there was my Mum and Dad who were just coming down to look for us. We headed back to my room and I collapsed onto the bed in a heap, exhausted from the walk. Mum has bought me some new pjs after I had sent her a SOS text. I had gone to put clean pjs on that morning only to find that they had holes in them. Actually this was not a new discovery but they're my favourite pj bottoms, my old faithful and even with the holes (and I'm talking little ones, not giant ones where you would see half my arse hanging out) I can't bear to throw them away. But the things is they're fine to wear around the house where nobody will see them but I couldn't wear them in hospital, not if I ever wanted to be able to leave my bed at all! So Mum had come to the rescue. I'm very particular with pjs, especially the bottoms and I like the places where you can pick the tops and bottoms separately. I like the super, super soft material and I like them baggy but ideally with a cuffed bottom and prefer patterned over plain. Are you starting to see why I asked my Mum rather than Hubby to go for me. He would have just grabbed the first thing he could see in my size regardless of whether it was anything like what I had asked him to get and then I should be grateful. Saying that they don't fit, or aren't quite what I wanted would be tantamount to saying he was a terrible husband and would be taken as a personal insult and he would probably sulk so yep, much easier if Mum gets them. 

Mum and Dad stayed about an hour and then left cause Dad's mood is linked to his stomach. Just fed = happy Dad, Hungry = grumpy Dad. It was 6pm which in his book is dinner time so best take him and feed him before he starts getting too upset!! 

I was ready to like down on my bed and not move for a long time because this infection(s) is really taking it out of me. I'm so run down and I think the mega strength antibiotics that they're bombarding me with can't be making feel too good either. But then you have to look on the bright side. Today I've been feeling like crap but yesterday I was feeling like shit so there's been an improvement!

NB x