Friday, 10 August 2018

My "About to be carted off in an ambulance face"

This is my “about to be carted off in an ambulance” face.

No colour, in pain and shock

Wednesday was a bit of a shock. Went to the park as normal, played some football, then suddenly had horrific abdominal pains.  Tried to walk home and couldn’t.  I was on my hands and knees on the path on North Cliff with the children waiting for me to come round, when a passing dog realised something was very wrong and fussed me until her owner came and helped me to a bench where I mistakenly thought I might recover with a couple of ibuprofen.  I couldn’t move let alone walk and was very worried I might flake out.

I rang my friend Gary and have no idea what came out of my mouth.  Luckily he realised my level of incoherence was a massive warning sign and he called an ambulance. He stayed with the kids for the 3.5 hours it took me to be seen in A&E.  Thank you a million times to him.

The chuckle brothers take 2 are alive and well: they work as paramedics in Scarborough. Not only did they provide gas & air, one of them entertained the kids in the back of the ambulance by blowing up rubber gloves and making elephants.  They gave it plenty of “to me, to you” when lifting me out of the ambulance: they knew that laughter was almost as good as Entonox.  They were awesome.

The A&E team were amazing - hilarious, efficient and really clued up on endometriosis. Was assessed immediately, given morphine pretty quickly and had a scan within 30 mins of arrival.  The doctor was so patient and explained every single thing he did.  He let me see my poorly insides on screen.

Even in my morphine-induced state I could see and hear how many cases the doctors and nurses were dealing with.  They are such incredible people to do that job every day.

It was pretty scary and I’m nowhere near over the negative self-talk and worry.  Looks like I’ll need to go back under the care of the obs and gynae consultant again to work out what’s next for this pesky cluster of ovarian cysts.

It was good to see that the A&E doctors and nurses were really clued up on endometriosis – as a condition it’s been misunderstood for quite a while but it seemed the opposite was now true.  I felt so guilty for needing to use an ambulance, but they were kind and very reassuring.  They kept telling me “it’s okay, that’s what we’re here for, we can help you with pain, we understand it’s sometimes more than you can cope with.”

It was hard to talk to the children about it when I don’t even have my head wrapped around it myself, but it was worth it.  Charlie admitted he thought it was his fault for asking me to take shots while he was in goal.  Bless him!  It was a relief to be able to reassure him that it was absolutely not his fault, in fact no one’s fault at all as the pain can just come on any time - there is practically no rhyme or reason to it and football definitely isn't one of the causes!

Now I'm back in my alter ego state: half a brain, moving slowly, hot water bottle as a permanent appendage and feeling the low dull buzz of the cocktail of Naproxen and Co-codamol.  There is nothing more to say as it would only be depressing and I only want to feel grateful for being looked after so well.