I’m going to apologise right now for posting again today, but today is difficult, and you’ll note that under the name of this blog are the words writing my way out of a rut… I’m trying to do exactly that, and you awesome amazing people who have liked and commented today have sort of helped me succeed in my goal. Ok, and now the post…
“We need to move you to the coronary care unit.” Hmmm, can no longer hide from reality. Am also attempting to deal with this alone. I know, I’ll blog. Were my initial thoughts. The consultant’s junior stood behind him keeping silent for the first time since I’d met him. He’d waltzed into A&E and tried to send me home, ignoring my cardiac symptoms and the swelling and basically making me feel like a complete idiot by patronising me. When I then stood up to walk and my heart rate shot through the roof, he swiftly rethought his decision, and hastily tried to backtrack each time he saw me, with monitors alarming over the sound of his voice as my freight train heart ran (and continues to run) at over 140bpm while laying down, until eventually he agreed with the doctors I saw in A&E, after speaking to my cardiology team in London who have increased the medication I am on. “We can’t get rid of the fluid until we improve your heart function.” He said when he first saw me in the acute admissions unit, “Right now it’s hardly shifting the blood and if we take out the excess fluid until it is pumping more efficiently you’ll end up with dangerously low blood volume” ok… So… Maybe don’t do that then. Also well done Sherlock for finally admitting, in a way, that you were wrong and I wasn’t being ridiculous. Good job I didn’t make it out of the door eh? Who looks stupid now?
And then they became concerned about my diabetes, which is a complicated beast people often underestimate. I may end up on intravenous insulin while I’m in here, just to give us more control and give my heart a break. “I’m not happy to leave you like this. I want to measure the level of (horrible acidic things) in your blood”
He then started discussing other complicating issues and revolutionary surgery that is still in research/ trial stages (which I was turned down for before because I was too young even though the government or some official body gave us permission) which may overcome them and prevent me from the downward spiral that is probably (when evaluated realistically) going to take my life eventually if not dealt with (and nobody else knew how to deal with it). And suddenly there was hope where there was none. Suddenly the complicating factor may be fixed. Maybe. But maybe is better than “I don’t know what to do” and sitting back to watch nature take its course and a 20 year old patient (me) bounce in and out of intensive care, and almost die, way too often. Uni dad was right to be optimistic, it turns out. I would tell him that, but I don’t feel like I can talk to many people any more (ok so my uni parents were the only people I figured out how to talk to but still…)
And then came the words. The words that, above all else I have heard today, rocked my world so hard I almost fell out of the boat that I only just learned to sail (ironic, the last time I got in a boat and raced was the start of the most serious heart issues)
“I’ll see you on Monday, and I’ll get your nurse to come round at some point in the day then too.”
I have an exam at 10am on Tuesday morning and according to the maps app on my phone I am currently… (I need to actually check) …46 minutes and over 30 miles away from university. And just to be clear, even if it kills me, I am sitting my exam, just to prove wrong the staff that told me I would never make it, the doctors that told me I wouldn’t last that long… And the part of myself that thinks I’m good for nothing.
“When can I leave?”
“I’ll see you on Monday.”
“I have an exam”
“Your primary care team in London want your heart rate lower than it is.”
“I’ll see you on Monday.”
And so now I’m in here for two things that are going wrong, and they’ve just called a porter to move me to CCU, and so what am I doing? Well I’ve just finished watching a film on the ridiculously cheap tablet I bought myself (to try and distract myself when in hospital), and I’m revising, of course. Because I keep telling myself that university isn’t the most important thing in my life (as I break down over university, the most important thing in my life), but nothing is going to stop me sitting that exam.
“Oh bless her she was only here last week really poorly, she was refusing central lines and all sorts and had a lot of doctors trying to get a line in her the poor thing.” Haha I am remembered. Wish I wasn’t. Wish I was going home. Wish I was headed back to uni in London. Wish I was getting out of here tomorrow. But I’m going to be in that exam.
Where there’s a will, there’s a way.
And I have so many people to prove wrong