Even at 28 we all need our Mum’s in some way or another. I have had a few of these times recently but one was at to beginning of February this year. It has taken me quite a while to get to grips with it all and I still have not actually told my parents.
For as long as I can remember I never tell my parents I am going to A and E. As much as I want someone to be there with me at the same time I don’t. I find I panic more when someone I know is about because they are trying to help you and just trying there best but ultimately there is nothing they can do and it is an awful experience to be helpless for someone you love. So I find it easier if they are not with me. Instead once I have settled and I know where I am going I let them know normally later in the morning once des rounds etc have been unless I am heading to critical care then. I let them know- well I ask a nurse to call them (it’s not like I would have the puff to talk).
In February though I had one of the worst attacks I had had in quite a wee while. I remember it being bad from the start. I was given adrenaline in the ambulance and blue lighted across town to the hospital. The adrenaline helped so. I was in HD in A&E. But I was soon moved into resus to be treated. Once a bit more stable back out to HD. I was on continuous nebulisers for hours. IV Magnesium and the works. Time seemed to float by. I saw one of the registrars who. I worked with sitting at the desk in A&E but it wasn’t till. I was back at work that I knew who it was. For some reason while having that attack I knew I knew who it was but couldn’t work it out. It was like I had lost my memory or something. I was kept in A&E way longer than normal the Dr reviewed me a lot. I was reviewed by Crit Care. The Crit Care con was called (this was the middle of the night so they were prob asleep at home hoping not the be called). They wanted me up in HDU but. I knew I couldn’t go there. By going. There meant. I would need to tell my parents I was in hospital and by doing that would mean. I wouldn’t be able to go to Canada- which for me was one of the most important things. I had to do (will explain more in another post).
I was allowed to stay out of HDU but was monitored very closely. Moved into a monitored bed in the assessment ward where a Dr who I had previously worked with was on for the night. This was when I knew I was bad. She was constantly at my bed side making me put my oxygen mask on. I kept desaturating and despite 10l was only saturating at 91%. No wonder. I was a bit disorientated before not working out who people were. The staff were fantastic. The Drs and Nurses that night and the next day were great at looking after me and making sure I didn’t do too much etc. I always feel that because I am young I should be able to get up and go to the toilet etc myself so. I do it but then suffer the consequences after. The problem with asthma and recovering from an attack is that when you don’t do anything you feel ok but it is when you go to do something that you feel you chest start to tighten up again because your airways are so twitchy.
During the night if my attack I just wanted my mum to be there but at the same time I didn’t because I wouldn’t be able to put her through seeing me like that. Looking back I knew it was bad when I didn’t even bother trying to get out of having ABG’s done. Infact I don’t think I really even flinched. I have had so many gases done that my arteries are so hard it is very difficult to get them now as the needle tends to just bounce off and also due to scarring some how scarring has developed round the nerves in my wrist too because when they go in I get horrible pain up my arm and in my thumb like I have hit my funny bone.
After I recovered from the attack the rest of the admission was fairly standard and I got home after about 5 days in hospital.
I wish so much sometimes I could have someone with me in A&E to help me but I just can’t.
(I don’t know what the E is doing at the end of this post but I can’t get rid if it!!!!) E