I want to start this post off by saying that I’m no way writing this to get any special attention or pity. The reason I’m writing this is because I’m someone who can’t talk about feelings. I just can’t. I tend to keep everything to myself but lately something in my life happened that I need to process somehow. Some people may say now why are you sharing it with the Internet? I regard my blog as my little corner on the Internet, where I can write whatever I want to. People who read this may judge me but I won’t know because I’ll probably never meet them, so I don’t really mind. Judge me all you want. And trust me it wasn’t easy to write all of this down and to hit the publish button. I just know that I need to share this and since I can’t talk about it I have to write about it. Anyway.. I’m sharing my story because maybe someone else is going through something similar and can feel along and it just helps me to try and move on.
Tomorrow it will be 3 weeks since it all happened. 3 weeks since my dad brought me to the hospital and I ended up in intensive care battling a life threatening disease.
I have always lived pretty healthy. I don’t smoke. I hardly drink. I eat my veggies. I work out every now and then. In general I just try to look after my body. During my vacation in August I suffered from a pretty bad cold, so when I returned home and felt weak and tired all the time I didn’t think of anything bad. I thought it was just still related to my cold. Then on Sunday I woke up with chest pain and whenever I walked stairs I could hardly breath, which seemed a bit alarming to me but still I just thought it was because of my cold. Since I was feeling good besides being a bit out of breath I went out to dinner with some friends of mine and we were even making fun of me for sounding like Darth Vader.
On Monday morning I woke up and I could feel my heart racing so fast like it was about to jump out of my chest. The pressure on my chest had increased a lot. Unfortunately I was home alone. My parents were both at work and my brother was at school. I went downstairs to make me some tea and when I went upstairs again and reached my room I was so out of breath I thought I was going to choke. I lay down on my bed and after 10 minutes my breathing had gone back to normal. I just felt like something was terribly wrong, so I texted my mom and she told me to call my dad. My dad’s a surgeon in a big hospital, so he came right over and brought me there. Since he works there I didn’t have to wait and was brought to a room right away.
I thought I had just some kind of infection and they would give some antibiotics but things came very differently. They drew blood and run some tests. They told me I had to stay for a few days and after waiting for a while they brought me to a room in a wheelchair. I wasn’t allowed to walk anywhere, which seemed so weird to me because I was feeling fine apart from being out of breath easily. After doing some tests my dad came into my room and told me that I was suffering from pulmonary embolism. What basically happens is that blood clots block arteries in your lungs. No matter how severe it is it’s always life threatening if nothing is done. Of course my dad didn’t tell me that. After doing some more tests one of the doctors I’d met throughout the day came into my room and told me that I would have to be moved into intensive care. That was the moment I realised that it must be something serious because they don’t put you there for no reason. I was moved there on that Monday evening and was hooked up to a bunch of monitors watching my every heartbeat, checking my blood pressure every hour and other stuff. I was terrified.
The next day they told me that my case was pretty severe because it had gone so far that there was blood blocking my right heart. During the next days they put me on pretty heavy medication to dissolve the blood clots. The treatment I had to go through came with lots of risks but I don’t want to go through all the details. I kind of just want to forget those days because it didn’t all work like it was supposed to and some complications came up but eventually it all came to an end.
After almost 2 weeks in the hospital the blood clots in my lungs and in my right heart were gone and I was healthy again. They released me and I returned home. On my last day they did one last test and everything looked like nothing ever happened. One of the doctors told my dad that he’d never seen anything like that. Usually you don’t get away without any permanent damage to your heart after such a severe case.
I was so lucky. If my dad wasn’t a surgeon and hadn’t once studied these things I probably wouldn’t have gone to the hospital right away. And if his colleagues hadn’t acted so fast and tried their everything to help me I probably wouldn’t be writing this right now.
I still have to take heavy medication for a while but basically I’m healthy again. Still I’m scared. I missed 2 weeks of university and I’m just scared of I don’t even know what. It’s just that one moment I was out with my friends and 24 hours later I found myself in intensive care hooked up to all these machines with a dangerous disease. I realised how fast life can change. In just seconds everything can be over.
Sometimes I feel so sad even though I should be crying tears of joy for still being here. Sure I’m glad it’s all over and I’m okay again. I’m beyond glad. I’m so grateful. But still I’m scared of my everyday life the way it was. I still have nightmares about those nights in the hospital when I was laying there in intensive care at night. When my parents where with me during the day they took my mind off of things but when I was alone at night all the horrible thoughts came to haunt me.
So tomorrow I’m going to my first lecture again. I don’t know if I’m ready to talk about everything to my friends in person. Writing it all down is so much easier but having to actually say it. I’m so scared I won’t be able to catch up on all of the things I missed. Plus I will be away from home and my parents in another country again. It’s all so scary to think about but I know I eventually have to get back on track and start living my life again. Right now I’m just kind of here. I used to be such a happy person. I had so many dreams and plans. I still do but right now it all seems so irrelevant. I used to get so freaking excited when I bout a new lipstick or eyeshadow or something like that and now I don’t feel anything really. I just feel kind of empty.
I just hope I can get back to my old self because I liked my old self. I hope that going back to uni will help me move on from this. I survived and now I need to start living again. My only problem is that I’m scared.
Wish me luck for tomorrow because I’m terribly nervous already!
Also I’d like to thank everyone who is reading my blog, liking and commenting on my pictures. This really means the world to me and I can’t believe that a little over 300 people are actually reading my rambles. Thank you so much!