Carole Russell Art Weblog

For the last 3 weeks I have been very poorly!

CHICKENPOX
It started with a few spots and a visit to the doc’s, who informed me I had chickenpox, to stay away from people until they had scabbed over and rest. That was Wed 27th May.
By Saturday of that week I was in bed unable to get up, so tired and feeling very unwell indeed – poor me! I asked my partner to call the emergency doctor – it felt like I was unable to feel recovery, just weekness – it didn’t feel right at all.

EMERGENCY DOCTOR
These days you don’t get emergency doctors to your house easily, you get put through to NHS direct and just when you feel like giving up and falling into a long restless sleep, they ask you questions, not the odd question but streams of them. I could hardly talk, found it difficult to get my breath and just wanted to stop it all! But they persisted and in the end my partner had to take over. It was decided that I had to go in to the NHS centre – oh my god – did that mean I had to get out of bed when I couldn’t get enough energy together, I had to get dressed when every part of my body ached to the point of numbness and I had to walk and go outside and get in a car and be driven somewhere – when all I wanted to do was sleep and sleep – yes that’s exactly what it meant!

I have no idea how I did it, how long it took or what I must have looked like. It’s all a bit of a blur now but we got there and I had to get out of the car (an achievement in itself), walk to the door and try not to look at the people staring at me. When I had glanced in a mirror that morning, it wasn’t me I saw but some sort of transformed alien, red, puffy skin covered (every centimetre) with blobs, I could hardly open my eyes, I could hardy breath, let alone walk! Who was this person????

THE NHS CENTRE
A nice doctor, as I remember, told us we had to get to hospital, get me checked out – I was expecting “she’s fine, just get her back to bed” but apparently I wasn’t fine and the only bed I was going to see was at emergency admmissions City Hospital, where we waited and waited. I suppose we got there around 7.30pm and eventually found out that I would be seen by a doctor in order of arrival, there had obviously been a lot of arrivals because I wasn’t seen until 1.30am – my poor partner had to sit there all that time, couldn’t even go out for a fag! I felt so bad.

CITY HOSPITAL
I do remember a nurse coming in and putting a needle in the top of my hand and it hurting like hell! I could see from her expression that she wasn’t happy doing it and got all flustered – I also didn’t like her doing it and thought “should it hurt this much?”

They looked, proded, waited for the consultant and eventually I was sent up to the infectious deseases ward – in a wheelchair – never before have a been in a wheelchair and never before had I needed one soooo badly! Finally I could get in to bed and rest.

MY OWN ROOM
Is there a good side to having chickenpox? Well yes actually, when admitted to hospital you get a room of your own – which is nice. I remembered my only other stay in hospital for a tooth extraction (it was close to a nerve that could have caused loss of speech so they had to be careful) and on that occasion I was in a ward with some very strange beasts indeed, a mixed ward of wailing women and men how stared, so a room of my own was a pleasant surprise.

THE BLUR
For 4-5 days it all becomes a bit of a blur but I will attempt to put it in the right order.
First there was the wait for the next consultant (something to do with skin deseases – they couldn’t decide whether it was chickenpox for a while) that took ages – and I kept thinking “When do I start to feel better”
It seemed an age – probably a day, before they decided on the treatment and put me on drips and stuck things in me and fed me medicine through my veins with a catheter – not nice. Anti virals, antibiotics hundreds of mls pumping into me. Whilst all this was going on the catheter the emergency nurse had put in (badly) suddenly came out and that’s when we all realised she had not be successful in getting it in properly – it still hurts now, some 22 days later!

PNEUMONIA
Aparently I’m one of the less fortunate adults who catch chickenpox because I got complications – pneumonia. Which, they tell me, is quite bad – What do I know, I just wanted to feel better.
The nurse from intensive care came to see me, apparently I needed oxygen – blimey! it turned out I was very clsoe to having to move to intesive care – by this point I didn’t care so long as I got some care! We started with the little nostril things and whilst it did have some effect I still had trouble talking, so after some time (don’t ask how long I have no idea!) she changed it to a full on mask with oxygen and water – who know what that was about, all I know is that the damed thing wouldn’t stay on and it was a mare when I tried to sleep!

The nurses kept taking my temperature and pulse and oxygen levels. The one night I remember failry clearly was when they had to do it all every hour, waking me up each time, I couldn’t sleep and was exhausted – turns out that was a very dodgy night – they were afraid I wouldn’t make it through. (No exclamation point this time, that situation has fianally sunk in – I was in deep doo doo, but they got me through – bless em all)

THE WORST DAY
The worst day was when a lovely gentle angel of a nurse told me quietly and with ample concern, that I would need a colostomy bag – I was devastated – those things were for old folk, people who couldn’t do things for themselves – it couldn’t be for me, I was not in need, I was too proud to accept this awful, humiliating invasion of my body and pride. She understood completely, the look of empathy and pity said it all. Apparently they needed to see I could take on liquids and get them through my system – surely there was a better way – nop – I was cornered – it was done – not painful just embarassing (apparently women who have given birth don’t give two hoots – I haven’t and I did give two, three and four hoots). It followed me everywhere, like a dead limb and was finally removed (even less painful) during the night of whatever day it was thanks to a kind doctor who checked me out and said I really didn’t need it – thanks you – forever, whoever you are.

THE NURSES
A word on my nurses – the Green Team of Nightingale II at City Hospital Nottingham. What a wonderful, eccentric, caring, insane, group of angels. Tall, short, old, young, mad, bubbly, quiet, chatty, cheerful, serious, male and female, trendy, overworked, and all taking care of me – it all seemed a bit much but it was all necessary I understand

ISOLATION
That separate room was bliss, it didn’t matter what I did, I was on my own and had my own bathroom, so isolation can be bliss, it wasn’t until the 7th day that it turned into a cell, four walls, a window I couldn’t open (air con) and no-one to talk to from when I got up (6.00am’ish) until visiting time at 2.30pm. I was told to walk around get my lungs moving – I must have looked deranged, wandering up and down the 10 foot square room, trailing my drips with me. Nurses came and went, my room was cleaned by some nice chatty ladies but nothing ate into those hours, they just hung in the air, not moving, not ticking away, even when I managed to put on daytime TV – what an awful bunch of nothing that it – I think it actually put back my recovery!
2.30pm VISITING TIME thankyou!

MY OWN ANGEL
The highlight of every single day, without exception, was seeing my partners face look through the window in my room and smile – what a smile – Mona Lisa move over, this was the most beautiful smile of a the most beautiful man in the universe and he was coming to spend some time with me – oh how much thanks can I express in this blog – no where near enough – deep deep love and affection to you, always and forever. xxx

My wonderful, caring and frightened Mum came too, every day, always with something, a little gift, chocolate (which I couldn’t eat – forgot to say the chickenpox had got in my mouth, on my gums and down my throat – much pain, very little food I could eat and to top that I also had a yeast infection coating my tongue, gums, teeth – blimey – I must have done something really bad in a previous life) anyway – this all meant I couldn’t taste anything other than a feeling that someone had put a large quantity of roughly ground very strong pepper down my throat and I couldn’t chew anything either, so not even chocolate was going to make me feel better.

MORE SOUP PLEASE
Soup, and soft bread was all I could manage (I also had a lump in my throat that made it painful to swollow) but I’m afraid the food at the hospital was not good, I once decided on the mushroom soup and a slice of bread – yummy you may say! but I can’t remember ever seeing a mushroom soup look like this one – the colour was right but the additional floating scum didn’t, for some reason, appeal, so in the end my lovely fella brought me soup everyday and I just had “two slices of plain bread please” from the dinner lady when she came – she must have thought I was on a bread a water diet – she probably didn’t care!

PHEW
I need to continue this but I had no idea how much I had to say, I shall add more later, for now I need a rest – pneumonia certainly takes it’s toll on energy levels, and I have to have a cup of tea – I can’t tell you how nice it is to finally be able to drink a cup of tea and taste it

To be contuinued……………….