So, I Was In Hospital...Again

So, this isn't initially what I planned to write about but hey life happens.

From a young age I've been sick, in and out of hospital getting diagnosed with this and that and then re-diagnosed etc. etc., this led to my life philosophy of #NoRugrats. But to be honest yesterday was the first time I genuinely feared for my life because I didn't know what was wrong.

Ok, let me start from the beginning. Around 3:00 yesterday morning I was woken up by a sharp tummy pain. Now, for as long as I can remember I've been a deep sleeper to the point where fire alarms don't wake me up, so to be woken up by pain was a serious concern. Don't ask me why but in my half asleep state I thought that a quick wee and brushing my teeth would fix all my problems, so I went to the toilet and jumped back into bed. But the pain just got worse. I struggled to find a comfortable sleeping position. After about 30 minutes I made the biggest mistake: I googled my symptoms. Rule number one of being ill is to not search your symptoms, as the internet will always tell you in some shape or form that death is imminent. As expected the conclusion was that I was due to die any minute soon. I ignored Web MD's diagnosis and continued trying to sleep but by 3:55 I knew it was time to get a professional involved.

I called 111 the NHS non-emergency line because I still thought I'd be ok even though I was in excruciating pain. The 111 responder realised I needed immediate medical care and called an ambulance for me. Funnily enough even at this point I thought they'd give me some water, tell me to poo and I’d be ok. So I hobbled into the ambulance without waking my flat mates and off I went to A & E. I got to A & E about 4:30 and I still thought this would just be a funny story to tell, so in usual Jade-fashion I snapchatted everything. Side note: at this point they'd given me pain killers and the excitement of being in an ambulance for the first time was still at the forefront of my mind. Then, around 7am a doctor finally saw me.

At this point I was hungry, bored and my phone was about to die so I just wanted her to tell me I was fine and go home. Having random body pains wasn't new for me, from intense migraines since I was 13 to creaky joints, my body seemed to always be moments away from being written off. But a GP would always swoop in with some new form of painkiller and so I just thought taking painkillers daily was normal. Anyway, the A & E doctor poked around my tummy and said "I'm 90% sure you've got an appendicitis and you'll need surgery today" to which I responded "huh what". Keep in mind up until this point this was just another 'funny random hospital trips I tell everyone about 6 months later', like my brain scan where they thought I had a tumour and the specialist that wanted to study how weird my brain was. When she mentioned surgery I nearly shat myself. The doctor then proceeded to tell me I need to contact my next-of-kin immediately "just in case" to which I translated as I was going to die.

Quite a few hours later around 11 I was transferred to a different hospital ages away, to the surgery assessment unit. From when the doctor told me I was basically dead till when I got to the new hospital I'd had no new information. At this point I'd been given extra co-codamol (a combination of codeine and paracetamol) so I wasn't feeling any pain and my main concern was hunger. As I was told surgery was definitely on the cards I wasn’t allowed to eat or drink and instead they put me on a drip. Eventually around 1:30 the surgeon saw me. Long story short he said I'd need to do an ultrasound first to be completely sure what it is before he needs to operate.

Now, that wasn't even what I really wanted to write about. But what I learnt was that I have the best support system. Especially when it comes to my health, I have this weird thing where I don’t tell anyone until after the fact, then I just drop it randomly in conversation months later. I just think that no one would care, so why bother them. Now, I know I’ve written about nearly every member of my close family and friends but I was surprised how many people actually cared if I lived or died. When I mentioned this to my mum (who dropped everything drove down from London) she was surprised that I was surprised.

So, is this more of a reflection on my perception of myself or is this just the codeine??

Any who, I'm still alive, still blogging and still being a bad b.

P.S. thanks to everyone who called or messaged or contacted me in anyway yesterday, I genuinely appreciate it xx