It seems my Spring analogy in my previous blog was a touch too positive.
And there I was watching my hair grow thinking that we had surpassed ourselves! I was feeling confident; nay cocky! Recovery from surgery was slow but sure; I had no nausea or diarrhoea or any other reason to feel that I was doing anything but improving. In both physical and mental strength.
I had been out for walks with friends...and even managed a slow but lengthy 4km jaunt (with a coffee break) around Portishead without any after-effects.
I also went elsewhere (ie, out of my flat) to dinner and enjoyed a lovely meal with friends, eating as normal people do.
Then out of nowhere the proverbial hit the ....! On the Saturday I was fine and retired to my bed feeling good. At 4am on Sunday I was back on the bathroom floor with my insides emptying out. I do have tablets to take when this happens but they take time to kick in so I spent two hours in the bathroom too afraid to move. Then when the tablets kicked in, I retired to bed, exhausted.
Sunday felt like a dream. I could not understand where the sudden sickness came from; nor indeed why I felt so unwell. I went back to bed and then it all went down hill again. Spiked temperature. Unable to get warm followed by bed-soaking sweats in between a return of diarrhoea. I knew I needed to keep dehydrated but struggled because of the diarrhoea.
Again I slept and slept, aware that I needed to make a decision about some further help but the fever does not help with practical thinking. Eventually, I extracted myself from my bed, realised I could not breathe properly and I made that call and 6am on Wednesday Annie took me to A&E at Southmead.
They took me straight in. No queues for this VIP.
Back on saline immediately and then five tubes of blood removed from my withered body.
The medics returned pretty quickly to say my CRP levels (the measurement for infections) were exceptionally high (dangerously so) and they needed to run more tests and take some x-rays and CT scans. CRP should be no higher than 50. Mine measured 370 !!
The Doctor listened to my chest and lungs and they were 'crackling'. An x-ray showed a shadow in the lower part of my right lung; the CT scan confirmed the shadow but they could not determine the cause immediately. This is a particular problem for me because of my allergy to the contrast used in CT scanning.
Nevertheless, they immediately started me on blood thinners and antibiotics whilst they waited for further results. Suspected appendicitis (my stomach was very sore but I thought it was from sleeping on the bathroom floor and vomiting for 2 hours straight!!). Turns out I was right. No appendicitis.
Suspected blood clot in the right lung. Hence the blood thinners.
Don't write off the return of sepsis...but my white blood cell count was normal. Good news is always welcome. Still anaemic, but then again I have been throughout the whole treatment.
My breathing was awful; painful and frightening. At some time in the afternoon, they came back with their conclusion. Pneumonia in my right lung.
Tablets and go home I thought.
Absolutely not, they said.
Then I burst into tears. I couldn't help it. I couldn't breathe properly and the crying exacerbated it, so I was gasping and I couldn't explain why I was crying. I did feel a little silly but I really did not want to stay another night in hospital. I did not want another bout of something serious. I did not want to find out another of my beloved organs was pissed off with the cancer treatment and was going on strike.
The medics were great, of course. I was transferred to an infection control ward at 0100hrs the next morning, and handed over to another team (consultant, doctor, nurses) and the treatment began . Initially, 2 nights suggested but it became quite clear that was not going to be enough. My CRP levels were not reducing which was suggestive of further infections, but they were having trouble pin-pointing the specifics (other than the pneumonia).
High dosage IV antibiotics were the order of the day (a catch-all answer) but a blood clot was still questionable which meant daily injections into my stomach. These were incredibly painful but worth it if it meant no blood clots.
By Friday evening everything was looking better, but still some concerns with other infections. BP stabilised. Oxygen levels started to return to normal. Breathing was easier.
Then a few more blood tests taken, including measuring my blood sugar which had spiked to a stunning 10.7 on the meter. Hypoglycaemic levels.
Nothing to worry about the Doctor said. It happens sometimes. Well, there is something positive I thought. At least I am not going to be a diabetic. By the time I left hospital, the levels had dropped to an acceptable level.
Released on Sunday with the CRP levels returning to normal and with more tablets - antibiotics this time, and advice on recovery.
You will feel bruised and tired. Don't overdo it. Rest as you need to.
Yes Ma'am I said, happy to get home.
Tired is an understatement. It's exhausted me and I am incredibly weak, but I am happy to be home and (was) recovering nicely.
Until I woke up on Wednesday with a sore leg.
What now? I thought I would monitor it for 24hrs to see if it gets better. It did not, so on Thursday I made a call and received an urgent appointment with my GP. This led to a next day appointment at a DVT clinic for an ultrasound scan on my left leg.
And yesterday the ultrasound showed I have a blood clot that starts behind my left knee, runs through my thigh and stops in my groin....for now.
So now I am on another regime of blood thinners for 3 months minimum, and not allowed to do any heart raising activities for at least two weeks. Given how unfit and weak I am anyway that means I am pretty much housebound.
I was supposed to get my pathology results this week following my surgery but the appointment has been pushed back a week. Staff issues I think, rather than any thing sinister. Given the last two weeks of energy sapping, mind-destroying, emotionally charged shite I have endured I am happy to get a few days off before I face the pathology results.
There is only so much one person can endure...and I am, at times, being pushed to edges of my capability.
But let's be positive...I am still alive, and I don't have diabetes.
Yay for small mercies...!