So me and Grace had a lot of deliberation about writing this post. Grace put it simply…….by starting this blog I have exposed us in the attempt to try to raise awareness, give comfort to others who are suffering in whatever way that may be and most importantly …… give everyone a good chuckle! And let’s be honest……If I can publish a video of us dancing in my pj’s with a face mask on then I should be able to hide behind this screen to type out my more vulnerable….right?? Well it’s proving harder than I thought!
This week started like any other week. Mumma L getting me started with my 22 magical pills that start the morning off. We even ventured out to do a little window shopping for an hour. Despite getting soaked by the British weather, that is about reliable as a collider is for holding water, we had a great time! Going in the posh shops pretending we had the money to actually buy the beautiful pieces on show instead of having to save up just to have a chance of purchasing a single item from the sale rail! And Mumma L only managed to crash my feet into a handful of walls due to being captivated by the said pieces instead of focusing on where she was pushing William (the wheelchair) and therefore me!
However, this fun was masking the huge apprehension that Tuesday brought us. An MDT meeting at the hospital. We waited in the waiting room in silence………in our jittery preparation we had left Grace behind so I only had my own sweaty palms to hold on to. We were called in with 3 sets of eyes staring at us.
The first thing one of the consultants said was “Well done” with a big smile.
I responded shakily; “for what?”
“For putting on 11kgs in 10 weeks! That’s bloody brilliant!”
I laughed, relaxing slightly and therefore my guard; “I had no idea how awful re-feeding syndrome was going to be. I’ve worked hard.”
“You’ve worked bloody hard!”
“We all thought you were going to die.”
All the other people in the room nodding eagerly in agreement.
He carried on reiterating my weight, my BMI, my state on admission. The fact I was so close to never coming home. He was doing it in a reassuring way to encourage me to believe how much I have achieved as I never believe I am good enough or have done enough. In fact the target given to me was 1kg every fortnight……I had doubled that. I had literally put blood, sweat and tears into battling PAS and refeeding syndrome.
But I couldn’t hear or see any of that. Those words kept repeating themselves, ringing in my ears.
“We all thought you were going to die.”
Was I one of those patients who I, as a student nurse, went home at the end of the day wondering if they would still be alive in the morning?
My eyes were blurry with tears, but I had to hold it together for Mumma L. This was worse for her. If I hadn’t pulled through my family and friends were the ones who would be left with the heartache. I mean who else was going to make them laugh on a Saturday morning with dancing skills to make Diversity green eyed???
I tuned back in to the consultation. After lots of talking I begun to relax again……therefore my guard……again.
The conversation naturally lead to me asking…….”So when can Norman vacate?”, pointing at the NJ tube that has pumped me full of calories for the last 10 weeks.
Again with a reassuring smile….
I’m thinking yes! holding my breath with anticipation……..
“I think we could aim to have it out by Christmas.”
I was still stupidly thought it was only going to be in for a trial 3 weeks anyway!
Me and Mumma L eventually left feeling slightly overwhelmed.
However, after being reunited with Grace what have I reflected on?
- I have done well!
- PAS is always going to try to beat me.
- It’s better to have a gradual divorce from Norman so my body can rely on him less.
- I am so thankful to the NHS, my friends and family.
- I am alive!
- Unicorns are magical and finally…….
- There’s no reason to be sad when your dancing skills are as mad as mine 😉
Thanks for reading, sharing is caring