Pneumonia is a Bitch....
... I'm back, for the time being.
Won't lie, I've had a rough month or two and those who follow me on facebook will know what I mean.
So, it all started back in September when I had a pain in my right hip/leg that wouldn't go away after I went to a horse show. I had X-rays and ultrasounds and so forth which showed nothing. Then a few days later my whole leg begins producing welts that are classic shingles. The pain got so bad mum had to call the ambulance and I was in hospital and high as a kite on a ketamine drip for a week.
The fun part wasn't over... The shingles must have affected something cause I had less control over my limbs than Michael J. Fox and had to be put on anti-seizure medication just to be able to get up and use the toilet. Now... There's no real pain meds for nerve pain, it's sort of 'put up and shut up' and the meds that are used are worse than my immunosuppressants. I was allowed home when the shingles and become non-contagious and basically just hobbled around the house. Then my bladder decided to become paralyzed and I had to learn how to catheterize myself, which started going wrong when my leg decided that being moved in a certain position would cause agony.
Again I went to the hospital and had a longer dwelling catheter put in with a leg bag. That worked and for a week or two all was well. My aunt and I booked a 7 day cruise for February and we basically spent the weekend planning what we'd do on the ship. She went home and a few days later I saw a urologist and had the catheter removed but was warned I might get a nasty UTI, which I accepted would probably happen.
A few nights later I'm feeling crook as death warmed up and at about 2am I apparently vomited and kept calling for mum. I remember feeling cold and hot and bright lights. They thought I was actually drunk and high before took my temperature and found it to be 39.4oC which wasn't good. Then my bladder decided not to work again and so I asked to have another catheter inserted.
The next day it was decided to send me to Westmead Hospital. I made it there safe and such but the next morning I'd developed a cough I couldn't shake and my chest ached and even ventalin didn't ease it. I had an x-ray done and the bottom of my lungs showed signs of a chest infection. Didn't make the pain stop though and I was kept on oxygen and had monitors all over me. Fast forward 5 hours and and literally gasping and am starting to get pretty fucking scared that this is it... I'm send for another X-ray and my lungs are nearly solid white and showing signs of a bad case of pneumonia, respiratory failure and a collapsed left lung.
I don't remember much after that, but I did stop breathing by myself and had to be ventilated and transferred to ICU, where I was literally pumped with so much fluid (sedatives, anti-biotics, food and saline) I went from 53kg to 64kg and shit just started to want to shut down. Mum went to the renal team and told them blankly to do dialysis or I'd start fitting and that's when they told her they didn't think I was 'fighting' anymore and to prepare for the worse in a few days as the kidney was starting to shut down along with my heart starting to beat irregularly at times.
So, ignoring them like the boss she is, she and a dialysis nurse, Cedric, decided to give me one last chance and they were able to remove over 10kg of fluid, low and behold, my heart settled and became less stressed, Mel started producing huge amounts of urine again and my lungs kicked back in and I started breathing by myself again.
Oh, they also couldn't find access for an IV, so had to go through all four of my limbs (or tried) to the femeral artery on my right leg as the other limbs are shot and no access exists. Again mum told them to stop stabbing my right upper arm (which was weeping so bad from fluid overload and holes that they were using pads to soak up the blood and fluid).
During this time I was given 2 blood transfusions, a platelet transfusion, and a few other blood products to help fight the pneumonia.
Then they made the mistake of waking me up. I thought it was one horrific dream, wondering when it'd end and kept repeatedly trying to escape. This was almost achieved by my cunningness of wriggling myself down off the end of the bed (the kept it upright to help my lungs) and trying to use my foot to pull out the ventilator. Only problem was I was tied to the bed. And people kept foiling my plans.
And of my god... I have no fucking idea what dugs that had me on, but I'm remembering some of the conversations I had and.... Yeah... I was convinced the doctor was trying to keep me in a vegetive state so he could run tests or use me to practice medicine on, I thought I'd been moved to a house and the nurses and I were living in a 60's era style... Must have confused the nurse when I asked how they treated transplants in the 1960's.
So, I spent 14 days in ICU, the ventilator was taken out and I was put on a CPAP-like machine.... And don't ask why, but I found out I could bite though the soft plastic and proceeded to rip three of the nasal prongs apart. No, I don't know why I did it, but I pissed a few of the nurses off. Oh and I also pulled out my nasal gastric tube.
I tried to piece together what happened, but my brain wasn't cooperating and when I finally got a chance to look at myself I found I was flat chested (the fluid from my boobs had gone directly to my lungs) and had tubes and such all over me. I couldn't see my legs or feel my feet and I believed I'd been in a car crash and had lost my legs. It's frustrating as I couldn't talk, wasn't able to write and no one understood what had me so panicked.
I gradually just got better, then was transferred to another ward kept on oxygen. A few days after that I was then transferred from Westmead to Orange, I stayed a few nights in Orange Base, had two falls because my stupid balance was out of wack.
Anyway I'm home now and have to use a little push trolly just to move around as I have almost zero balance. Oh, and while I was in ICU, mum found some little sores on my skin, a swab was done and it was confirmed that I again had shingles.
So, I've lost 2 months, but ,.... It's just brought me closer to the February cruise and I'm excited,
Any questions just ask.
Won't lie, I've had a rough month or two and those who follow me on facebook will know what I mean.
So, it all started back in September when I had a pain in my right hip/leg that wouldn't go away after I went to a horse show. I had X-rays and ultrasounds and so forth which showed nothing. Then a few days later my whole leg begins producing welts that are classic shingles. The pain got so bad mum had to call the ambulance and I was in hospital and high as a kite on a ketamine drip for a week.
The fun part wasn't over... The shingles must have affected something cause I had less control over my limbs than Michael J. Fox and had to be put on anti-seizure medication just to be able to get up and use the toilet. Now... There's no real pain meds for nerve pain, it's sort of 'put up and shut up' and the meds that are used are worse than my immunosuppressants. I was allowed home when the shingles and become non-contagious and basically just hobbled around the house. Then my bladder decided to become paralyzed and I had to learn how to catheterize myself, which started going wrong when my leg decided that being moved in a certain position would cause agony.
Again I went to the hospital and had a longer dwelling catheter put in with a leg bag. That worked and for a week or two all was well. My aunt and I booked a 7 day cruise for February and we basically spent the weekend planning what we'd do on the ship. She went home and a few days later I saw a urologist and had the catheter removed but was warned I might get a nasty UTI, which I accepted would probably happen.
A few nights later I'm feeling crook as death warmed up and at about 2am I apparently vomited and kept calling for mum. I remember feeling cold and hot and bright lights. They thought I was actually drunk and high before took my temperature and found it to be 39.4oC which wasn't good. Then my bladder decided not to work again and so I asked to have another catheter inserted.
The next day it was decided to send me to Westmead Hospital. I made it there safe and such but the next morning I'd developed a cough I couldn't shake and my chest ached and even ventalin didn't ease it. I had an x-ray done and the bottom of my lungs showed signs of a chest infection. Didn't make the pain stop though and I was kept on oxygen and had monitors all over me. Fast forward 5 hours and and literally gasping and am starting to get pretty fucking scared that this is it... I'm send for another X-ray and my lungs are nearly solid white and showing signs of a bad case of pneumonia, respiratory failure and a collapsed left lung.
I don't remember much after that, but I did stop breathing by myself and had to be ventilated and transferred to ICU, where I was literally pumped with so much fluid (sedatives, anti-biotics, food and saline) I went from 53kg to 64kg and shit just started to want to shut down. Mum went to the renal team and told them blankly to do dialysis or I'd start fitting and that's when they told her they didn't think I was 'fighting' anymore and to prepare for the worse in a few days as the kidney was starting to shut down along with my heart starting to beat irregularly at times.
So, ignoring them like the boss she is, she and a dialysis nurse, Cedric, decided to give me one last chance and they were able to remove over 10kg of fluid, low and behold, my heart settled and became less stressed, Mel started producing huge amounts of urine again and my lungs kicked back in and I started breathing by myself again.
Oh, they also couldn't find access for an IV, so had to go through all four of my limbs (or tried) to the femeral artery on my right leg as the other limbs are shot and no access exists. Again mum told them to stop stabbing my right upper arm (which was weeping so bad from fluid overload and holes that they were using pads to soak up the blood and fluid).
During this time I was given 2 blood transfusions, a platelet transfusion, and a few other blood products to help fight the pneumonia.
Then they made the mistake of waking me up. I thought it was one horrific dream, wondering when it'd end and kept repeatedly trying to escape. This was almost achieved by my cunningness of wriggling myself down off the end of the bed (the kept it upright to help my lungs) and trying to use my foot to pull out the ventilator. Only problem was I was tied to the bed. And people kept foiling my plans.
And of my god... I have no fucking idea what dugs that had me on, but I'm remembering some of the conversations I had and.... Yeah... I was convinced the doctor was trying to keep me in a vegetive state so he could run tests or use me to practice medicine on, I thought I'd been moved to a house and the nurses and I were living in a 60's era style... Must have confused the nurse when I asked how they treated transplants in the 1960's.
So, I spent 14 days in ICU, the ventilator was taken out and I was put on a CPAP-like machine.... And don't ask why, but I found out I could bite though the soft plastic and proceeded to rip three of the nasal prongs apart. No, I don't know why I did it, but I pissed a few of the nurses off. Oh and I also pulled out my nasal gastric tube.
I tried to piece together what happened, but my brain wasn't cooperating and when I finally got a chance to look at myself I found I was flat chested (the fluid from my boobs had gone directly to my lungs) and had tubes and such all over me. I couldn't see my legs or feel my feet and I believed I'd been in a car crash and had lost my legs. It's frustrating as I couldn't talk, wasn't able to write and no one understood what had me so panicked.
I gradually just got better, then was transferred to another ward kept on oxygen. A few days after that I was then transferred from Westmead to Orange, I stayed a few nights in Orange Base, had two falls because my stupid balance was out of wack.
Anyway I'm home now and have to use a little push trolly just to move around as I have almost zero balance. Oh, and while I was in ICU, mum found some little sores on my skin, a swab was done and it was confirmed that I again had shingles.
So, I've lost 2 months, but ,.... It's just brought me closer to the February cruise and I'm excited,
Any questions just ask.