So, yeah. I'm in hospital at the moment for some routine treatment after my last checkup didn't go too well. My lung function had dropped to 25% (a bit shit) and I was called for a bed after waiting a week. It's all very routine as I expected to need treatment after finishing university which drained me.
I've been thinking about writing a blog about it as time in here is difficult in many ways and time itself passes incredibly slowly indeed. Sometimes, seconds and minutes seem like hours as we await the IV drugs doing their thing to slowly aid our bodies back to a decent level of health.
So what happens when I am admitted into hospital for a two week period of treatment?
First of all I'll head to my room and unpack all my stuff, make things slightly more homely.
We're incredibly lucky at our CF Unit in Leeds as it was purposely built for us a few years ago at a cost of about £2.1 million if I remember correctly. It is comprised of 13 in-patient beds, 5 out-patient rooms along with several admin offices and conference rooms for the staff and doctors who work tirelessly to nurse us back to health after bouts of bad infection.
A lot of hospitals with CF Units around the UK are pretty dire from what I've seen and been told via other CF patients on Twitter and Facebook. This is due to a lack of awareness and facilities. There's currently around 9,000 people with CF in the UK and that makes it a minority disease, which in turn means lack of funding and facilities that have a knock on effect to patients care depending on where you live.
The CF Trust and NHS are doing sterling work though to make sure all hospitals have a good standard of CF care facilities. I am very grateful I live in Leeds as ours is a recognized centre of excellence so I'm in good hands. We have about 400 patients registered at our unit which is astounding so again I'm grateful for the high standard of care we recieve here.
Anyways, enough with the ass kissing. Once all my crap is unpacked and I check that everything is working in my room and then we are usually seen by a doctor who will assign the various treatments that we are going to undertake during our stay. Sometimes it is done by junior doctors (usually don't have a fucking clue as they are still learning) and sometimes by senior consultants. It all depends on how the cookie crumbles.
I'm prescribed high strength IV antibiotics to combat the bacteria growing inside my lungs which I take through a drip at 10pm, 6am, and 2pm and boy do they kick the shit out of you in all manner of ways.
You see, they have side effects. The ones I'm on make you incredibly tired and just generally make you feel weird but it's a necessary evil. Most of the side effects from the drugs and from having CF itself I can handle but the tiredness is something else. Spending two weeks constantly drained no matter how much sleep you may get is just no fun whatsoever and leaves you feeling quite emo eventually which is where I am with them now. I'm tired. I sleep. I wake and am still tired. It's a relentless cycle. And, combined with the fact that I have daily exercise that tires me out further as part of my treatment and some deliciously hot and muggy weather at the moment then I am not a happy bunny at all.
That's the bit that winds me up. I'm usually one happy bastard despite my rantings on Twitter and Facebook and I'm pissing myself off now at not being very cheery and constantly feeling like I want to tear everyone's heads off for the slightest little indiscretion. I miss being my happy normal (ish) self.
It's a neccesary evil though as I said, I have to endure this as it is just how it is and at least after 10 days of treatment I only have 4 left until I can go home and have my freedom again. The light is at the end of the tunnel. I can finally see it. Thank fuck.
I should in all honesty just shut the fuck up and deal with it as there are friends who have had to endure months in hospital whilst being severely ill and I sometimes wonder how I will cope when those times come for me in the future. I live nought but a 20 min bus journey away and have plenty of things I can occupy myself with whilst many patients are from farther away from their homes and loved ones. The tiredness has claimed me though. My concentration is shot and I don't have the energy to do normal stuff. If I manage to then I'm usually a muted druggy mess which frustrates me further as I feel like I'm being shit company If I do spend time with mates and loved ones.
It's even taking a while to organize my thoughts into something coherent whilst typing this. Lame.
I honestly cannot wait to get home. The first thing I always do is drop my bags as soon as I'm inside my flat and go straight to bed. That thought alone is making me so moist right now I kid you not.
At least feeling like this is not permanent and after lots of sleep I will be back on top form.
I'll write something more cheerier then and may edit this as I'm sure there's plenty more I can write.