#the shot on this scene was B-E-A-UTIFUL

[incurableoptimistest1994]

So, I was blue-lighted to UHW hospital this Sunday. I had been poorly for about a week with a nasty UTI. I felt very unwell, was in a lot of pain, felt sick and feverish, and was very sleepy and confused. My GP recommend I go into hospital on Wednesday for IV antibiotics and fluids, but I refused, on the basis that LMC could manage me at home, and that I wished to avoid catching the flu/pneumonia that's rampant at UHW right now. My LMC nurses were deeply concerned all week; my observations (oxygen/temp/blood pressure/heart rate) were not good...several times a trip to hospital was mentioned. They even rung my mum and asked her to convince me to go! But she said she'd be a hypocrite if she did, since like me she has a serious aversion to hospital stays! So we persevered at home; the staff all took excellent care of me. On Sunday, I actually felt a little better. I did my nails, ate breakfast, did bowel washout, showered, and got back into bed. Mum and dad came to visit; they brought me presents; LOTS of presents! And a MacDonald's :) I cwtched with them in bed and watched Trolls... We sang along, and laughed a lot. When they left, I felt fine. I could tell mammy wasn't feeling too good though; I told her to get home and have an early night. At 6.50pm, I started to feel poorly. I called the staff. Very quickly, they realized the situation was very serious. They had never seen me spasm so violently; it took four of them to hold me on the bed. I couldn't breathe. My airway was closing; I had a horrible strider, and I was blue. At 7.10pm the nurse called an ambulance... By 7.30 I was in Recuse at The Heath. The ambulance crew were incredible, even though there wasn't much they could do for me; by this point they couldn't even get an IV (they tried, bless!) in me because my body was shutting down. Quietly, the paramedic told my nurse that I had to go to UHW because I'd probably be put on a ventilator. He asked for my advance directive. They remarked on the close relationship between me and my carer Jodie; they thought we were sisters! Jodie, bless her, had already worked an 11 hour shift when she volunteered to spend the night at the hospital with me. One of the scariest things about this particular type of respiritory spasm is that I'm unable to speak. I have a deep respect for my non verbal friends; it is horrible to have all the information people are asking for, but to be unable to communicate it. For someone like me, who's condition is unique, that information can be vital for your survival, and being unable to communicate it is terrifying. Luckily, Jodie can translate very well; both from my facial expressions and from a type of sign language I use. I was also blessed with a lovely lady ambulance driver who got me some paper and gave me her pen; medical folk who know of The Pen Wars will appreciate the magnitude of this gesture! So in the lulls between spasms, I managed to write stuff down. There's a photo of one of my sheets below. Jodie, ambulance lady, my nurse and doctor were deeply amused when, as I was wheeled into recuse, I wrote "where's the TV? I'm missing Call The Midwife!" Once I reached recuse, I was treated with impressive speed. Because my body was so shut down there was no way to get an IV in me...this meant four shots in my thigh; two of steroids, two of adrenaline...WHICH HURT. I was perilously close to a respiratory and/or cardiac arrest. The spasm and infection were exhausting my body, especially my heart. Thankfully, the meds worked. The doctor put two IVs in me, and gave me more adrenaline and steroids, and penicillin, fentanyl, ondansatran, and a shit load of diazipam. I stabilized, slowly. What I didn't know at the time was that just a city away, at the exact moment I almost died, my mum was in severe anaphylaxis and nearly died; the Davies Girls, taking synergy to a whole new level. When I think of this moment, my heart breaks most for my dad; caught between being with his soul mate or his baby girl. I want him to know that I was with someone who loved me; Jodie knew how to take care of me. She knew how to deal with doctors, and she knew that what I most needed from her was a cwtch, a cuppa, and a laugh. I spent the night in hospital; once I stabilized enough to leave recuse I was moved to an assessment unit, A) because it was very near recuse, B) because there were no ward beds, and C) because it was free of pneumonia. I had more morphine, more antispasmodics, three bags of fluids, a massive dose of Gensimithsine (literally the worlds strongest antibiotic) and a third antibiotic, ciprofloxacillan. I also injected myself in the stomach twice with drugs for my blood... I told the nurse I prefer doing it myself! I was a mess of tubes and wires, and my arm hurt from all the attempts to sight an IV, and my arse hurt from all the needles. And then I heard about my mum's emergency drive to A&E thanks to a life threatening anaphylaxis, and my heart broke for her and my poor torn up daddy. I am forever grateful to my bona fide guardian angel Connor James for answering the phone at 1.30am to a crying Amy...please bear in mind I don't think I've ever cried in front of him before! Even though he was tired and unwell, he managed to get me laughing. And when I asked him to drive up to Cardiff on his only day off he said yes immediately. I got very little sleep; between a dodgy heart moniter that kept kept giving a false alarm, the old guy with dementia, the gang member with a skull fracture, constant checks from nurses, and my own discomfort, things were far from quiet. Sometime around 2.30am, Jodie noticed me fussing with my elbow IV and reached out to hold my hand. Quietly, she said "so that was pretty scary...". "Yeah," I answered, "but I've had worse. There were no operations, no ventilator, and I didn't actually stop breathing...a few needles in my arse and arm is nothing, really." "It must be horrible though, having that happen" Jodie said. "Yeah" I answered, and my next breath hitched, became a sob, "horrible... Now you know why I'm crazy" I tried joking...but it wasn't a joke. "You're crazy, aims" Jodie said, "because you've had a lot of crazy shit happen to you". I fell asleep with Jodie holding my hand. The next morning I felt better than I had all week; huzzah, the miricle of IV drugs and fluids! The doctor told me I could go home, admittedly on increased anti spasmodics, a shit ton of antibiotics, and hourly Observations from the LMC nurses... He was just as anxious as I was to keep me pneumonia free! And I DO live in a nursing home. Jodie left, and Kayley came and took her place. While we waited for LMC to pick me up, Kayley asked if I wanted a Starbucks; I said hell yeah! When I realized I had no money, Kayley insisted on buying me one anyway...life seemed better after a large hot chocolate with cream and marshmallows and a cinnimun swirl bun (with white icing)! As I finished my drink, mammy rang me. Hearing her voice was the best feeling in the world. As soon as I got home I went in the shower. I was afraid to look in the mirror, to see what a train wreck I looked like. I was grey, with huge dark circles under my eyes, covered in bruises, and smeared with so much blood I looked like a crime scene. I looked like the victim of an accident. I looked a little more human after a shower, thankfully. I thank my lucky stars for Connor James; who turned up with a maccy D's, who tucked me into bed and climbed in next to me, who put up with my shitty E4 shows, who made sure I ate and drank and took meds, who showed me how to video chat with Arran and mum, who gave me a cwtch, and who talked about everything except what happened, who looked after me when I most needed some TLC. Con, thank you for making me feel safe and loved on what could've been a very scary and lonely day. I love you loads