45. Lost weekend

As I said, we’re all warned, Dire warnings about the danger of ignoring a high temperature (specifically 38C).  But that happens to other people. A runny nose doesn’t qualify for hospital attention! I only rang the emergency number to get their assurance it would be fine to ignore 37.7, really just to ease Dennis’ fear I might not wake in the night to notice I’d reached the dreaded 38.

So I have a series of firsts under my belt now: my first stay in hospital, my first drips, my first blood transfusion... Plus the public admission that My Husband Was Right. It doesn’t even hurt to say it - had I waited, I’d have developed something like pneumonia and be fighting for my life with an immune system that can’t fight. There. Said it.

Lisa, our lovely neighbour, packed both kids in the car at 10.30 and drove Dennis and me to St James’s. It was that or an ambulance (that would have been another first, but one I could do without, thanks). By the time D and I followed the vague instructions about Level 5 Bexley Wing (no ward number and no phone contact - I left all that at home of course!), wandering up and down dimly lit, silent corridors with every door locked and no human in sight apart from a lonely smoker outside the entrance, I was beyond shattered. Apparently, my temperature was 38.6 and my blood pressure registering in the red zone of low.

I confess I did feel very weak, even a bit ill, by then but that’s no reason to be left in peace. We were shown to Room 9 (apparently it was an unusually quiet night), I collapsed on the bed fully clothed and let them do whatever they needed to do. I had to go into the bowels of the hospital for a chest x-ray at 1.30am, then back to the assessment ward. By then, I was shaking so violently I couldn’t control any part of my body. I assumed it was a panic attack and I just lay and shook miserably for about two hours. Oddly though, I wasn’t hyperventilating. It didn’t feel right.

I think I went to sleep about 5.30 (Dennis was sitting in the ‘armchair’ watching me like a hawk) but that sleep didn’t last long. Another panic attack after I’d been rudely woken to have my blood pressure and temperature taken (every hour at that stage - who needs sleep??) really broke my spirit as I haven’t had a real panic attack since September. It’s like I’ve not had the time! Two in 6 hours was just too much to bear. Why it mattered so much, I’m not sure - I’m ill (I admit it), I was in a scary situation (though I didn’t feel scared), I was not in control of everything. A lot of people might have a panic attack!

                                           

 

Anyway, much to my relief, the doctor later explained that it wasn’t panic - it was rigor, a symptom of my condition (according to my discharge notes, febrile neutropoenia and neutropoenic sepsis of unknown source). After that, I just allowed the shaking to happen till the antibiotics began to work and they stopped. So...my record of no real panic attacks for almost 6 months still stands (with the obvious cheating in that lorazepam just before chemo removes any inclination towards panic response - great stuff).

She decided to treat me for neutropoenic sepsis without waiting for test results and I found myself attached to a drip with a constant supply of antibiotics, as well as saline, saline and glucose and finally saline, glucose and something else I was deficient in - nutrients!!