At Death's Door.
Christmas and New Year wrapped up, a few of us were still a bit sniffy but nothing to worry about.
I walked my dog, Billy every day, it was cold, I was cold and was still 'with cold' but I didn't think anything about it.
January 7th and my bones seemed extra cold, why would my bones feel cold? I dismissed the feeling. I went to bed and could hear a strong 'boom, boom, boom' noise. I got up and went downstairs to check the boiler. The noise wasn't in the kitchen, but I could hear it in the bathroom, in my bedroom, under my covers. (I later discovered that the 'boom, booming' was my blood pumping furiously around my body) I was very cold, yet I was extremely hot.
The next day as I was walking Billy, I felt inexplicably tired, I had to do a detour (after his three poos, of course) and come home.
My younger daughter came around for dinner. She asked me how I was feeling and to my astonishment, I couldn't catch my breath. I felt so weak, I felt ashamed to feel so weak, I did not want to admit my weakness, but my body betrayed me. My breathing faltered; I was gasping. Why am I gasping?
My daughter dialled 111.
I tried to explain my 'symptoms' but as I was breathily talking, an ambulance arrived outside my house.
The paramedics appeared at my side, in my front room, how? I don't know how that happened.
I am in an ambulance, blue lights flashing.
I am taken, immediately, into 'Resus', oh God, that's where I last saw my mum, this can't be happening. It is happening.
Oxygen and more oxygen, a mask over my face. Syringes into my wrists. Antibiotic drips, a commode, a feeling of unreality, Casualty? Holby City? 24 Hours in A&E? Is this happening? Is this ME?
A word, two words, I heard.
'Pneumonia.' 'Sepsis.'
I travel back to adverts on the TV.
Will I lose my sight? A limb?
But I was walking the dog this morning?
I am so tired.
I try to sleep.
Am I dreaming?
In my 'dream' I see a door, a fairy tale type of wooden door. I push the door open, but I don't want to enter.
I turn away, at my feet I see a little head, a little neck, a crown of brown curls.
I see Eva.
It's a big mountain I must climb. More oxygen, more slashes to my wrists. (to check oxygen levels) more weakness....and then... a miraculous feeling of 'self' returns to me.
The sepsis has gone, I am no longer 'septic' My daughter told me so.
The pneumonia strangled 40% of my right lung. The doctors and nurses saved my life.
They gave me oxygen, they administered antibiotics, they cared for my life and for me.
How can I ever thank them?
I look at Eva, of the little head, the little neck, and the crown of brown curls, and I thank God I am alive.
I aim to embrace a Joie de Vivre.
I want to live artfully and well, to slow down, to make memories, to not try so hard to 'get somewhere' but to enjoy the journey of my life. To always 'be here' in the moment.
With eternal thanks to the staff at Ward One and the ITU at Queen Elizabeth Hospital. Woolwich.
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