I lie where I am lying and I am ruing the day I boasted about having more energy than I have had in a long time. Since I did my little boast (if you cannot recall it, you can find said boast directly below this rant), I have felt unwell. Not only have I felt unwell, but yesterday I wasted an entire day’s annual leave in bed at Mamma Jones’ house wanting to punch déjà Vu in the face. Today, I missed my long awaited, first physiotherapy appointment as well as missing my meals. All these factors get me to where I am at this current moment of time, in a bed in A&E waiting to see a doctor…
To be clear, I am absolutely furious. I am furious because I do not want to feel incapacitated by my health anymore than I was at this point last week. I am furious because I have too much to do to have to spend the next few days in bed. I was maddened by these two points prior to 17:00hrs this evening, but since then, my fury has turned to red rage.
The red rage appeared because instead of giving me some antibiotics and inhalers, as I told him to do, the GP at my parent’s medical practice decided to nebulise me, make me take eight steroids and then send me to hospital. Not only was I was told to go to A&E, but I was forced to go to A&E via ambulance and via blue light’. Red Rage.
I do feel unwell. My cough sounds revolting and, in general, I look goddamn rough, but I did not, and do not feel like these factors warrant me lying in a bed in A&E. I am wheezy and last night, I had difficulty breathing, but again, that does not warrant me lying in a bed in A&E. According to the GP, I am having an acute asthma attack. According to a nurse and the paramedics, it sounds like I have a chest infection and need some antibiotics. Red Rage.
There are levels to illness and as much as this one makes me feel bad, and in need of my bed, it does not require hospital treatment. I know a different sort of illness that requires that and I am sick of that one. Speaking of which, if it were not for that illness I know all to well, I would not be here, lying in a bed in A&E. I want to be in my bed, resting.
I may have got to experience my first ambulance ride, but I feel like that journey was a complete waste of public funds when Haemo Dad could have transported me to A&E much quicker. I have other comments about the GP’s actions as an example of our overrun A&E’s but I will voice these when I am home safe and free of a fatal asthma attack, which is what the GP told me I was at risk of. The GP coincidently did not know what an autograft stem cell transplant was, so.
In the meantime, enjoy my photographic journal below.
I’m back and the bed that I lie in is not in A&E, it is in Mamma Jones’ house and it is the morning after the night before. I thought it only appropriate for me to conclude my tale in one part, but alas, I was too tired last night to do it.
I returned home around midnight having had some oxygen (I was in no way a fan of the nose tubes, and it wasn’t just because it prevented me from sniffing EMan), an X-ray, another nebuliser and some steroids. I returned home with antibiotics, steroids and an inhaler. The surprise astounded me.
I must say, my experience yesterday, reaffirmed by views on primary care in the NHS. Unlike those views, I was most impressed by the treatment I received as soon as I got in the ambulance and thereafter. They strap you down you know.
Back to my though, I am embarrassed that the response to me having a chest infection and asthma, the latter being something that returned to me post transplant, was an ambulance and A&E. I spent most of Monday and Tuesday being absolutely frustrated that once again, my body had been brought down by a bug, something that once upon a day a lemsip or three could cure, so add an overreaction in blue light and I am at a loss.
Fortunately, and I think this one is more for others, as frustrating as I find it, as I have now experienced this chest infection/asthma cocktail once before, I knew what it was and I held my head together. I may feel blue about being unwell and letting people down because of it, but I was in no doubt of what was wrong with me yesterday. Okay, so there may have been a little fear when the GP said ‘fatal’ and I had tubes stuck to my face, but I didn’t let my mind run away with me, which is indeed progress. I held my head.
And so, today I am to rest and then tomorrow we will see. On a plus note, I did feel better when I left the hospital yesterday, so it could not have been all bad.