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The Great Pneumonia Debacle

 So I had a not very good late winter, early spring.  I turned 50 in February and within a few days, I got very sick.  The weird thing is how long it took for my medical team to figure out what was wrong with me.  I realized that having a previous diagnosis (asthma) clouded the judgement of every medical professional I saw.  What kept being called a "flare up" or "ongoing bronchitis" was a growing, walking pneumonia.

I remember very well the night I got sick.  It was a night of sleet and I was out in a strange place with a man who paraded me around like arm candy.  By the time I woke up the next morning, I was feverish and had lost my voice.  I don't think it was a coincidence. 

By the time I was diagnosed, I had been to the pulmonary specialist once, with a phone call follow-up for meds.  To the general practitioner 3 times with an ER visit in between.  To finally a go-straight-to-the-hospital-right-now for a CT scan.  Then finally the magical diagnosis that got me the right medications, inhalers and write-outs from work to start Short Term Disability and not lose my job.

To call it a nightmare is just too easy.  To call it scary and eye-opening seems more correct.  

Every day that I knew something wasn't right but I got up and dragged myself into work anyway was another day of not getting well.  It was another day of my voice not coming back.  It was another day of less air and more fatigue.  Then when it got bad enough that I couldn't drag into work anymore, it was the nights that become scary.  There was more than one night that I went to bed afraid I wouldn't wake up in the morning.  But to be completely honest, I wasn't that scared.  My brain fog and cognitive dizziness didn't let me get scared.  They also didn't wake me up at night when I coughed so long and so hard that I peed in my pajamas.  The fluid in my ears didn't let me hear my alarm or anything else.  

I was on steroids but I could barely stay awake.  I couldn't eat at all.  I lost 20 lbs in 2 weeks.  I couldn't understand what was happening around me.  I couldn't drive.  

Fevers peaking and breaking during the night.  Waking up with drenched hair and clammy skin, shaking under a thin blanket.  Was it a fever?  Was it a hot flash?  Who knows?

I was very sick.  The sickest I had ever been in my life.  

I knew things were bad when my parents, my sister and my closest friend got involved.  They drove me to appointments, brought me groceries, looked after me, advocated for me, made sure I took my meds, and watched me with worry.  

Little by little, I started getting better.  From what I've read, it can take weeks or even months depending on severity.  I can say that I still don't fully have my voice.  I still don't fully have my air.  I'm tired every evening.  I wake up every morning with a heavy chest and a need to cough that feels like I've been smoking for 30 years.  I'll be happy when and if that ever goes away.

To say the least, pneumonia taught me some lessons.

I was grateful and overwhelmed by the people who loved and supported me.  I was disappointed by the ones who didn't.  I was sad that of all my coworkers, two checked on me.  I was sad that my company wasn't kind to me about my leave.  I was moved that my longtime GP doctor seemed genuinely upset that I didn't get better care before I got to him.  Every nurse and pharmacist I saw always showed me so much care and compassion.....especially once they heard my scratchy voice and saw how weak I was.  I realized that if you reach out and tell people you honestly need help and say things like "please come here as soon as you can" that they will.  The ones who love you will.

I think I'm always going to have some sad and even cute memories of it too.  

I remember hearing a "code grey" being called in the hospital while I was having a breathing treatment.  Something about it struck me as sad.  Grey.  I was old and grey and I thought I was dying.  I started to cry with the breathing tube in my mouth.  My sister almost started to cry too, but luckily pulled us both back up on the road.

Having to ask my parents to bring back Poise pads when they did a grocery run for me, so I wouldn't have to wake up in piss-soaked pajamas.  Probably would have been funny if I wasn't mortified.  

Crying when my friend, Gavin, made me breakfast because it was so pretty and so thoughtful and I just couldn't get it down.

Sitting at my desk staring into space with brain fog and no one asking me if I was okay.

More than one joke about how great it was that I couldn't speak.

My friend, Kelly, sending me a get well gift.

Crying when Gavin's dog, Athena, laid at my feet and watched me.  And when she followed me to every room to be near me.  

Crying.  I cried a lot.  When I was cognizant, I was scared.  I missed my son.  I wondered how he would handle it if I died.  I showed my sister where my important papers were and told her to give my house to my niece.  I updated my journal every day that I could so I could leave behind all my thoughts.  I was trying to be as ready as I could if I didn't wake up the next morning, but honestly......how is one ever ready for that?

Some nights I was having crazy dreams.  Probably from the drugs, but who knows.....maybe I was on the edge of realms.  I thought I was seeing lights and ancestors, the bronzed Cherokee ones, reaching out for me.  And I wasn't scared.  

I know that some of that sounds a little too self-pitying and "woo woo" but it was really happening.  

So now that I'm on the other side, I realize how easily something like this can happen.  How a fairly healthy woman can slip to serious illness so quickly.  How important it is to have support.  How important it is to ask for it.  

Ironically, I still don't fully have my voice back.  And it's funny how little I miss it.  There's a part of me that wants to retreat from the world after this.  Away from crowds.  Away from people.  Away from the hustle. Deleted a lot of contacts from my phone. I had some concert tickets this spring......I resold them on StubHub.  I had a vacation rental planned......I canceled it.  Staying at home right now seems healthier.  Seems safer.  Away from the germs. Away from the people who let you down.  Away from the people who take your air.  

Because, I learned the hard way, that air is the most important thing.

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