How I ended up in here.

My grand plans to escape this place are on hold at the moment. I was hoping to be released yesterday but that didn't happen, then I was hoping for today, but that doesn't look likely either. Tomorrow maybe?! This has been a recurring theme throughout my stay, people ask me when I'm getting out and say "Maybe tomorrow?" And now we are 6 days in....

So. I figured I'd give you the back story now. I could go on and on and on and on about my stay in hospital, 6 days can provide you with plenty of material but I don't want to bore you too much.

Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin.

Tuesday 11th - First trip to Weightwatchers. Make a joke to my friend that I might have given myself an anxiety attack because I'm finding it hard to breathe. Get home and tell boyfriend I've done something weird to myself because it really hurts to breathe in on the left hand side of my chest.

Wednesday 12th AM - Chest really hurts. Figure I must have sprained a chest muscle somehow although I'm not sure how because I hadn't done anything in particular. Give a bit of a sigh - why am I always injuring myself?! First the ankle and now this. Take some comfort in the fact that although my ankle was really painful on Monday it seemed to have miraculously got better overnight and hadn't been bothering me since Tuesday morning. Celebrate having super-human healing powers.

Wednesday 12th PM - Pain is more than a little horrendous. Seems to get a squillion times worse whenever I lie down. Get a little bit of sleep but wake up in terrible amounts of pain. Have a little cry about it because I'm known to be a bit of a wuss when it comes to pain. Boyfriend says "Right I'm taking you to hospital, you're having chest pains" I tell him not to be ridiculous, I'm just being a wuss. I'll be fine. Have a very fitful night's sleep.

Thursday 13th AM - Boyfriend tells me I have to go to the Drs that morning, he's worried because he'll be spending the night in Manchester and doesn't want me to have a night like Wednesday on my own. Tell him I will but rebelliously don't bother. I'll be fine, just making a fuss. Boyfriend less than impressed.

Thursday 13th PM and Friday 14th early AM - Pain is beyond anything I've ever known. Find co-codamol in the cupboard, take some, no effect. Start to wonder if I am actually dying. Talk myself down from the ledge and tell myself to stop being ridiculous. Try and lie down, freak out about the pain. Sit for a while oscillating between being sure I'm about to drop down dead and telling myself it's just a chest sprain and I need to man up.

Friday 14th 3am - Decide manning up is not an option. I'm going to cave and go to A&E. They'll have some decent painkillers and they'll sort me out. Call a taxi and get myself there. Good job it wasn't a weekend, A&E is empty and I get seen straight away by a nurse who freaks out because my heart rate and blood pressure are off the scale. I get sent for an ECG. Get sent for an x-ray. Sit there going "Oh my god just give me drugs."

Friday 14th 6am - Apparently X-ray is clear. This makes me a little worried. I am being a wuss. Very fit A&E Doctor comes to take some blood. Realise I've now been awake for 24 hours - that's not good. Blood tests come back and they tell me that I've come back with slightly elevated clotting factors in my blood. I am being admitted and transferred to Castle Hill hospital.

Friday 14th 8am - Start calling people to let them know I'm in hospital. Hadn't told anyone yet because I didn't want them to freak out. The boyfriend would have done something stupid trying to get back from Manchester and Mum would have probably had a heart attack on the spot. Boyfriend does freak out and says he's coming back to Hull but I tell him not to bother, no point, there are visiting hours and he won't be able to do anything. Ring work and tell them that the chest sprain I'd been going on about might be something a little more serious.

Friday 14th 8.30am onwards - Get to Castle Hill. Mum breaks visiting hour rules and comes to see me, don't think the nurses dare mess with her. Finally get some decent painkillers in the form of codeine phosphate - they don't get rid of the pain but definitely take the edge off. Also get one of those tubes that you put up your nostrils that give you oxygen. Feel like a sick person. Still haven't slept, think I might be going mad. Go for a CT Scan at 4pm. Start to panic a bit, seriously what if there's nothing wrong with me and I've wasted all these people's time because I'm a wuss?

Turns out I'm not a wuss. I'm a bad ass. I've been walking about for 2 days with a pulmonary embolism. In fact not just one. I have "a few" blood clots on my lung. I'm going to become a warfarin addict for at least the next 6 months.

At this point I don't quite get the gravity of the situation and am pretty sure I'll be out by Sunday. Wrong.

The cause of this embolism? There can only be one culprit.

So you are officially caught up. I am trying to read all your blogs (what the hell else am I going to do?!) but my connection is pretty rubbish and it especially doesn't like blogs. I will get caught up though, I promise.

Right then I have lots of lying about to do and it can't possibly wait.