Day 3 they said I could go home the next day – happy!
That evening my breath felt short. I told the nurse and she said perhaps I was anxious. I wasn’t anxious, I just couldn’t breathe. At 8pm the nurses swop after a long day. At 9.30pm they give you your last set of pills and the last injection of the day in your arm. Not a nice night cap! The needles sent me over the edge.
I sat upright all night. I couldn’t sleep, so much morphine and SO tired. Late night ECG. Watched closely all night.
Early morning scan and left lung full of fluid and right lung half. More doctors. Pain in my stomach and pain in my lung. No breath.
So weak. Wheeled in my bed around the hospital . No breath.
Waiting in corridors. The doc came and spoke to me of the next procedure, of needles and drains. I was sick, so so sick. Into the theatre I went. This time a local anesthetic so he chatted to me. Sheer excitement when he found out I was a photographer “Nikon or canon”? (please!!)
The anesthetic, the needle. The totally alien sensation of something going into your back. Fluid pouring out but at least I can breathe.
I have a 3 litre drain coming out of my back from my lung. Wheeled back to the ward. The pain begins. The best head and neck surgeon worldwide has never seen this. My chyle duct has burst. He has no explanation. They chat about what to do. Move me to St. Thomas’s to operate again.
At least I can breathe.