I said I’d update when I was home and happy so here goes!
I got home Wednesday night and went straight for a bath, which is usually my first step in the whole dehospitalisation process. (I swear that’s a real thing!) I had every intention of getting out of the horrible patient feeling, and getting back to my normal human self. The plan was a bath to relax and get rid of every last bit of sticky left over from the tape and dressings that have been covering my hands and wrists for a week, wash and condition my hair, and then to dry and straighten it so I could look and feel a lot better. Not a chance!
I did get a bath, mandatory lush bath bomb included, and managed to get the majority of the tape marks off. (I was actually gutted when I found little bits I’d missed today!) But the whole idea of drying and straightening my hair?! I didn’t even want to brush it but I knew I had to! Thank goodness I’d conditioned it so it wasn’t as tatty as it had been. If it had been nearly as bad as when I had a nurse brushing it for me at 2am because I looked a show, then I definitely would have just tied it back up wet and knotted with the plan to attack it another day.
After that drama, it was time for a film (The Proposal) and bed. I didn’t sleep well through the night, it took ages to fall asleep, I woke up what felt like a million times, and at 5.30am I was about to give up hope. Next thing I know, it’s after midday and I’d just woke up 🙂 rolled out of bed for a couple of hours then went back to bed to get warm and woke up after 6. I was so shocked. I didn’t nap once in hospital. Normally when I’m in, I have at least an hour every afternoon, but this time I didn’t have anything. Must have been because I was flat out most nights with all the drugs I was given.
So that ruined my plans of organising my life today. I definitely have to wake up in the morning tomorrow and sort out things like seeing the doctor, replacing my heliox supply, maybe reuniting with Jef?!
This hospital admission was so much different to any of my others. The VCD part has never really been that uncontrolled before. I know it’s always played a part in my breathing problems, and I think it was a big factor in my admission in feb too but not to the same level as this past week. I’ve always thought of VCD as my lesser problem, I guess I’ve always looked at it in the same way I used to look at asthma when it wasn’t a problem for me. But now I know it’s definitely a problem, and maybe even a bit more worrying because not everyone knows about it. Even when people do know a bit about it, there’s not really a lot that can be done to help. I sent my respiratory team everything I have on VCD because they didn’t really have anything about it, and they want to be able to help me and any other patients that they may have with VCD.
I’m glad they treated me the way they did this past week, whether it’s something they can keep doing on future admissions I don’t know, but I’m glad I don’t remember a lot about the horrible parts of my stay. A plus side to all the things I was given was that they had an effect on memory. I may have still struggled for a while, but I woke up every time remembering the start of the attack, remembering people coming to help, remembering them giving me some medication, waiting, and then giving me some more, and then I woke up. I know for definite that on one of the occasions I struggled the whole time until after I woke up, I’ve not asked about the other times. And for now, I’m content with not knowing.
All as I do know is that once again I’m so grateful to the staff at the Royal for everything. There were some amazing staff who helped me way more than I think they realise. I would trust the nurses and doctors with my life over and over again. And I even survived the Junior Doctors Strike that was apparently “putting patients lives at risk”. I felt safe with the junior doctors there, and I felt just as safe when they were on strike. I’m forever in debt to the NHS, they’ve saved my life so many times now.