After my first night in the hospital the the doctor of the Clinical Decision Unit did his round. He had a gentle way and an air of hipster about him. I could have sworn he was wearing canvas loafers and a trendy check shirt under his white coat...but that could've been the oral morphine adding extra detail.
This duty doctor gently explained that he intended to discharge me that afternoon! With my miserable existence of the week just past incapacitated by the non-stop hell, I knew this to be the wrong decision. I knew in my gut that this was no tummy bug or gastritis. Something was really wrong. As gently as he spoke to me, I spoke back to him, telling him firmly that I refused to leave the hospital until some definitive tests had been done. I explained to him that I had been back and forth through A&E three times and had been admitted to this hospital through paramedics the week before and had been sent away then as well. I demanded an MRI scan or at least and x-ray before I would leave the premises. He was kind and mild in his response, assuring me that they would not "throw me out on the street" and that they could certainly do an x-ray before discharging me.
If they had thrown me out, I would not have gotten far. I was in so much pain that I can't remember the rest of the day. This day has been totally wiped from my memory. I have no memory of anything until around 4pm when my cousin Ebele arrived. She stayed with me until they came to take me to x-ray in a wheel chair. I was so glad for her company.
And so we waited amongst other sick patients for my x-ray. When my turn came it was necessary for me to lie down on the x-ray bed for the best result. I hadn't laid down flat in over a week due to the pain in the top left gut. The monster inside simply would not allow it. With their help I managed to lie down I held my breath and did all that they asked me to do. They assured me that they had the scans that they needed. They helped me sit up on the bed and suddenly the violent retching began. So violent was the attack that my cousin could hear me from the waiting area and she wondered what they were doing to me in there. As they took me back to the ward, the attack of bright green fluid calmed and my cousin now felt comfortable to leave my side and return home for the night.
As Ebele left I too hoped for some sort of rest but this was not to be. It was time for the nurse to take my blood pressure. The nurse took my blood pressure and suddenly dashed out of my bay with no explanation. She returned very quickly with two other medics. I could sense something was amiss, Together they took my blood pressure and that was it! I was suddenly being rushed away to...somewhere. I had no idea where I was going or what was going on. As we wizzed through the white corridors I remember the words becoming clear as the doors of the ward swung open. I was back once more in the strange white room with huge open mouthed white scanning machines. Bright, white and surreal. I was back to where I had started when I had been admitted, only this time I knew what the room was called. "Resuscitation Unit"
A small team gathered around me. They explained that my heart was pounding at 161 beats per minute. Faster than a 90's hard core rave track! They explained that they intended to give me an injection to stop my heart for a few seconds. Unsurprisingly I became somewhat distressed. I didn't want my heart to be stopped for any amount of time! They explained that when I had been admitted the day before, the same thing had happened with my heart and that I had somehow managed to bring my heart rate back down on my own. They asked me what I had done yesterday so I could do it again now. I had to tell them the honest truth; I had no idea what I had done the day before. I had been unaware that I'd been doing anything but lying there in pain. I had not known that my heart rate had been high and in fact I hadn't understood what I had been doing in the serious looking strange white ward with its huge open mouthed white machines. Between you and me, I have to confess that I thought they'd been holding me there because there were no regular wards or beds free at that time.
They asked me to blow out into a big fat syringe, sealing my lips around it so tight that no air would escape. I did my best deep breath and went for it. I nearly succeeded in passing out, my head got light and the room began to spin but my heart continued to go rogue with it's hard-core speeded gabber beats. "161 beats per minute and rising!" They had no other choice. It was time for them to give me the injection.
They stuck an array of pads and wires to my chest, got the head honcho lady in, and got meds and machines on the ready. I asked the doctor what would happen if the inject didn't work. He gave me a really strange look, straight into my eyes and said nothing. "Have I asked the wrong question?" I asked not breaking the eye contact. He didn't break eye contact still - and still he didn't answer. "Okay, I've asked the wrong question" I mumbled nervously. Only then were we both released from the eye locking contest. He got on with his prep along with his team.
This injection was a heinous experience that I would wish on no one. The head honcho stood by and authorised them to administer 2ml of the 6ml in the syringe. Suddenly I was somewhere between having the worst panic attack in your life, passing out and struggling for air. Quite simply there was an elephant sitting on my chest, resulting in an instant freak-out and a desperation to breathe against the suffocation. They had warned me that this was going to feel inexplicably horrid. They had not lied!
"I can't breathe! I CAN'T BREEEEATHE" I gasped in distress as I fought for breath and nearly crushed every bone in the doctors hand. They shouted back their encouragement almost in my face "YES YOU CAN! YES YOU CAN BREATHE!!! YOU'RE DOING REALLY GREAT!!!" I was doing really great? It really didn't feel like it.
"141...120" I heard one of them relay my decreasing heart rate as I started to breathe normally again. "122...130...137...140..." What on earth?! My heart beat was speeding up again almost instantly. Doctor Lock-Eyes turned and locked eyes with me. "You know you asked what would happen if it didn't work...well this is it. We have to give you a bit more" "Oh my God" I whispered. "I'll hold your hand again" he said. He held my arm in place and I looked on in horror as he emptied the remaining 4ml into my cannula
"Oh my God!! How much have you just put in!" I gasped just before entering round 2 with the elephant on my chest and the invisible pillow suffocating my every breath. There shone a wicked glint in Dr Lock-Eyes brown eyes and almost a mischievous curve of a smile on his lips. He grasped my hand real tight "YOU'RE DOING GREAT!" he hollered.
"120...115...100..." my heart began to settle back to normality. This time it had worked.
I remained strapped up to a bleeping machine for many hours through the night. My machine seemed to be working on a tuneless, clinically repetitive minimal electronica melody with two other machines in the room. Sometimes I was tuned in, sometimes tuned out as I sat there with my pain and a bowl nearby. I revived enough to chat to my main nurse. She was a lovely young Irish lady. Blonde and so pretty. As she cared for me, she explained that she had given up her high-flying job in the fashion industry to have a more meaningful job as a nurse in the NHS. This stunned and impressed me. She gave up money and goodness knows what kind of social status to work hard, unfavourable hours. She was a truly excellent nurse. Her level of care, talking me through my recent experience, giving me medical attention, made a huge impact on me. She loved her job so much I could've sworn that she actually loved me. I promised myself that I would not forget her name...but of course in the days to come I did.
As I was sitting in limbo, with a calmed heart, recovering from my tachycardia experience, suddenly there emerged a pale face young man at the foot of my bed. Where had he come form? I really couldn't tell you but he was really there. 'Hippy Jesus'. This medic had the most piercing clear blue eyes above his high, sharp cheek bones. His rice-paper white skin in striking a dynamic contrast against his thin, long, wavy dark shoulder length hair. I am not lying when I tell you that he was gently chewing gum! "A hippy in doctors whites?" My mind remarked fully interested in this human visage before me. He called me by my name.
"You're Kayo. I've been looking for you."
So striking were his features, so calm and yet strong his aura that he looked like some sort of Jesus to me. "I'm from the surgical team. I'm the surgical registrar" he informed me "You took some x-rays today. I got a hold of them." "You got hold of them?" I breathed out the words already feeling some sort of relief. My instinct instantly flagged this to be a good thing. "Yes. It revealed that your fibroid operation from 3 years ago has scarred over so much that it has blocked your small intestine".
Now, this may seem like bad news to some of you, but to me it was almost music to my ears! Someone had at last discovered "why" all of the vomiting, why all of the illness...but not yet why all the pain. The pain and my abdomen were in opposite corners like boxers in a ring before a fight. For this reason I was truly surprised. I'd had no pain and in fact no knowledge of this blocked intestine until now. Nevertheless I was truly so relieved to be getting some news, some answers. "Sneaky quiet scarring!" I thought to myself.
At this point I noticed behind Hippy Jesus, a nervous, skulking figure, shuffling from foot to foot. It was the doctor who had tried to discharge me that afternoon. He stood somewhat behind Hippy Jesus eyes cast low as if he was being chastised. An air of embarrassment engulfed him. I could understand why. Perhaps Hippy Jesus had brought him to my bedside as penance because he had nearly discharged me. At this point however, I was just so relieved that a cause had been found, that I couldn't care less about his near misdemeanour. All I could do was utter was my repeated thanks to this Hippy Jesus. Someone was saving me from this nightmare.
"What happens now?" I asked.
Hippy Jesus explained everything so clearly, so succinctly, so clinically, so calmly. There was something so crystal about his communication skills that he impressed me. Hippy Jesus explained that I would be admitted to a ward. I would not be discharged because I needed to have surgery as soon as possible. They would cut out the collapsed intestine, blocked with scar tissue (called adhesions) and they would resection the two healthy parts of intestine back together. This seemed like a great and logical plan to me. I asked about the pain to the top left of my gut, just under my rib cage. He said they were not sure what this was. I asked Hippy Jesus if I would be fixed up and patched up in time to take my 2 week holiday to Mexico with my sister. "But Kayo! 14th of February is only 2 weeks away!" Hippy Jesus looked transparently startled, whilst piercing my whimsical holiday desire with his ice-blue eyes. "It's okay" I relented, assuring Hippy Jesus that I would cancel my long desired dream trip with my sister. The stern ice blue concern melted from his crystal clear eyes.
"We're going to find you a room now. We need to get a nasogastric tube down the back of you nose and throat to start draining the bile from you" explained Hippy Jesus. The strange spell was now broken. I had no more questions. Shuffle-Foot Doctor sheepishly beat a quick retreat and then, just like that, Dr Hippy Jesus was gone. Wafted down one of the white clinical corridors, no doubt to help another patient with his clinical facts, mesmerising aura and occasional chewing of gum. "Strangely fascinating" I thought as they wheeled me away to ward 13E.
All the way there, all I can remember is muttering in my mind was "Thank you Hippy Jesus! Thank you for getting hold of my x-ray and spotting the problem. Thank you, thank you, thank you!" At last, after 2 years and 2 rounds of vomiting nightmares, my treatment could begin.
I give thanks deeply for the NHS and it's many amazing, dedicated, on the ground workers. Some of whom had made a big impression on me and my life that night.
