To those who have followed my journey for a long time, you will know that I have spent an inordinate amount of time in hospital. As you will read in A Girl in One Room, I really did flit in and out of emergency situations for years.
The thing is it was always me who was being rushed into hospital, me having ambulances blue lighting me to A&E and resus, with medics surrounding my bed.
But in the past year, it hasn’t been me nearly as much. The emergencies that my body always seems to get to have subsided and most of the time I’ve learnt to manage my poorly body at home.
However, the emergencies have still happened, just to different people within my family.
September marks a year since Samuel’s deterioration in health. In that time he has been to hospital at least ten times and has had the ambulance arrive at our house four times.
Not only that, I think I had the biggest scare in my life happen just a few weeks ago when my daughter suffered a seizure and stopped breathing.
Seeing my daughter’s body go blue as every muscle in her body twitched, is an image I cannot erase from my mind.
The paramedics were amazing and were with us between five minutes. The call handler stayed on the phone to me and advised me with what to do as she fed info to the paramedics. My heart never left my mouth.
When the paramedics arrived, they flocked on me like prey. There was barely any talking as they descended on my daughter’s limp body in my arms.
Oxygen was being pumped into her as they checked her Airways and her lack of response.
After twenty long minutes of oxygen, she started to come around. Her reactions were quicker than they had been and she started to cry.
The paramedics got ready to move her to the ambulance with my husband to rush her to hospital. But I couldn’t come with them.
Chronic illness means sometimes I have to make choices. I was already feeling horrendous having looked after my poorly daughter all day. I needed to be in my wheelchair but the ambulance is not able to take one.
For me, it was more important for her to get to the hospital; it didn’t matter about me.
But as soon as the ambulance door shut and the engine started, I was left in silence with the trauma of everything that had happened pulsing through my veins.
It made me think of my own parents and what they went through with me. The constant emergencies, the seizures, the fears of sepsis… They all ended up with paramedics pulling me over the bannister and rushing me into hospital.
No one prepares you for the silence and the flood of memories that follow. Had I acted quickly enough? Was my child going to be alright? Whilst question’s rushed around my head, all I could see was my daughter’s motionless body.
The adrenaline rushed through at a million miles per hour, taking with it every inch of my energy. Even ten days on, I am still struggling.
As I came to terms with what had happened and rang every person under the sun to inform them, little did I know that my body would have to be prepared for it to happen again just two days later, when an ambulance had to be called for my husband.
The roller-coaster of emergencies and emotions mixed into one, making me feel sick beyond belief.
We later found out that what Felicity and Samuel were suffering with was covid and I’d gone down with it too.
I have spent the past few weeks trying to salvage some quiet time, although I have made a conscious effort to skip the silence.
Prayers and wishes for good recoveries to you all.