a night in the hospital
i spent the night at the hospital a few days ago. when i arrived at the emergency and talked to reception, the nice man who took my name and details told me i was great at taking care of myself. that was the first time i heard that. he said he needed to be more like me. i wasn't sure at the time if he was just being kind or if i had actually done something unusual. i called 111, i spoke to a doctor on the phone and he told me to come here. it didn't feel particularly special.
the a&e was busy. there were couples holding on to each other, people coughing on their face masks, a lady in a wheelchair, children crying, drunk people wearing big coats and high heel boots and drunk people in shorts and a t-shirt. the reception guy told me to take a seat and wait for someone to call me. i heard my name twenty minutes later, stood up and marched towards the triage room, dodging families, an old lady with a walking stick and another person in a wheelchair. i could barely breathe at that point.
as i described all my symptoms (coughing, wheezing, shortness of breath, headache) i saw the screen on the nurse's machine go from white to amber. she took my blood pressure and measured the oxygen levels in my blood. the machine bleeped. for someone who mostly had to deal with mental health crises (my physical health tends to be pretty solid), it felt good have my disease validated by such an objective number: spo2 = 92%. it was real. i wondered if that's what it felt like being in the death zone on mount everest. i was probably being dramatic.
the nurse told me the amber area of the hospital was full, which is why she was taking me to the resus area instead. 'resus' as in short for resuscitation. she told me not to worry about it. i waited no more. we walked fast and i couldn't catch my breath. i laid in the hospital bed and they quickly plugged the oxygen tubes around my face and inside my nose. i felt good for the first time in days.
doctors and nurses came to talk to me, collect my blood, and give me a nebuliser. or three doses of it. my heart started racing from all the medication. my blood pressure was hiiigh. i was exhausted but my heart kept beating aggressively. they got an x-ray of my chest. i wish i could've seen it.
all the exams came back normal, they told me. it wasn't covid, or influenza, or a bacterial infection. it was probably another virus that they couldn't test for. the doctor told me i should stay overnight so they could monitor my oxygen levels. a consultant would speak to me in the morning. it was already 2am. i said i'd stay.
they gave me blankets and i drifted in and out of sleep until the morning. sometimes i heard people convulsing in a bay next to mine. i saw a girl screaming incoherently when i went to the toilet. she looked like she was overdosing. there were emergencies all around me but i slept better than i had all week. i heard an announcement in their internal comms system: we have 77 patients waiting in urgent care. waiting time is 7 hours and .... fuck me. i guess i do know how to take care of myself.
by 9 am the next day my spo2 had increased to 97% and the morning nurse brought me a cup of tea. the consultant came in, prescribed me an inhaler and steroids. she told me steroids have a rare side effect that she's only seen once in her twenty years as a consultant-it can completely change your personality. i memorised this information because seemed like good trivia. by 10 am i was discharged from the hospital.
i'm home now. i slept plenty and rewatched fleabag. i ate ramen and brigadeiro. i had comforting hot showers. the medication is working, but my lungs are still very unhappy. the doctor told me it would take weeks for me to fully recover. i went for a walk around the park today and felt like i was mountain climbing.
i feel tired but at least i won't have to work next week. happy sunday.