Friday morning to Sunday Evening. 24-26th.

At around 8:30 Friday morning I decide I should probably let my family know that I'm in hospital and have had blood transfusions. The staff and my friends had been trying to make me call home since I had arrived but I hadn't seen the point, I assumed I was going to be leaving hospital in a few hours anyway, a day max. 

Friday morning as mornings go, was probably the most dramatic frightening morning of my life. Before this, the most frightening mornings I've had have been waking up after nights out.

At 9am a unit of platelets are brought over to me. To anyone who doesn't know what they look like, they're yellow, like carrot soup or something similar. I take one glance at this bag of neon yellow goo getting ready to be hooked up to me and decide 'nahhh, that's ewwy', I try and tell the nurse that I don't want it and how awful it looks, but I don't seem to be in a position of choice. I get hooked into it and already I'm feeling queezy before it even starts flowing through me. I kind of remember having really slurred words and saying how sick I felt before I threw up down my shirt and trackie bottoms. Im vaguely aware of people panicking and getting me out of the bag, I'm told I need to up my blood and platelets as I could die.

A curtain is pulled around my bed and two very serious doctors are standing their greeting me as I sit befuddled in my own lovely sticky sick. There's a bit of an awkward silence as we're all aware that I don't look great. One of the doctors points out I have sick on my neckline, I nod my thanks at such an observation.

The conversation the three of us had is certainly the least fun conversation I have ever had. I'm made aware that I'm in a hell of a lot worse situation than originally thought, and that if I hadn't come to hospital I could well be dead. There is a lot of serious staring and silences during the conversation where I feel I'm supposed to ask questions or do something, but I don't really have anything to say. I was also told that any kind of infection could kill me within 3 hours, and that it was likely that there was something wrong with my bone marrow and that they needed to do a bone marrow test immediately. I'm asked if I want to know their possible diagnoses to which I reply 'possible sounds to me like speculation, I would rather know what it is than what it could be.' They smile and say that's fine and tell me I need to have someone here immediately for 'moral support' for my bone marrow test. 

So I get my friend Freddie to arrive, she lives nearby and is pretty quickly at the hospital, laughing at me still covered in sick. I manage to get changed into one of those fashionable and fly hospital gowns which show your arse (thankfully I still have my boxers on). One of the doctors from earlier comes back with what looks like a scuba diver tank and asks me 'do you want to fly?' After gentle coercing from him and Freddie who has received the honour of getting me high on the gas and air I decide that I will indeed 'fly'. Apparently I talk a lot of shit while on the gas and air as the doctor applies lots of anesthetic to my hip as I lie on my side. There are sharp moments of pain as I feel it spread and desperately I breathe in the flying gas. I have bone marrow liquid or whatever its called removed as well as a piece of bone marrow, which I imagine if I wasn't high and on very strong painkillers would be absolutely horrific. Its weird being able to feel a needle inside your bone scratching around. Its soon all done and Freddie and the Doctor laugh and joke at my odd ramblings before he leaves with my samples.

Before my friends arrive during the day I try to have a shower, I have to keep the catheter dry and I end up having plastic bags tied around my arm, which made for an odd shower. I can't remember how to get back to the ward I'm on  and end up kind of running half naked through the hospital.
More of my friends arrived during the day, bringing a various assortment of unhealthy snacks and food. My mum arrives later in the afternoon and soon after arrival I am moved to a new ward, Waddington Ward, where I get my own room. Fancy. 

Hand me that would you...WHEYY

The following day (Saturday) my dad and sister come up to join my mum in seeing me. That morning before they arrive I have more blood samples taken from me, this time from my hand. 
As my dad and I are watching the Watford match on Sky in my room (he's a die hard Hornets fan, while I'm Charlton) I am asked to go for a headscan. My dad remains to continue watching the football (got his priorities right) as my mum and sister come with me for the scan. I have to be wheeled their again which I dislike as I feel that I can walk, but it's hospital policy so again I don't have a choice. The headscan involves me laying on my back as my head goes under what looks like a StarGate arch of sorts, nothing really happens and it's a lot more anti-climatic than I expected. I'm soon wheeled back to my room where Watford have won 2-0, and a couple more of my friends have arrived and are talking to my dad.

More please

At about 4:30 my family and friends leave and I am hooked into another unit of blood. After that the doctors attempt to give me another unit of platelets, seeing as the last attempt went so well, this time I am given lots of medicine before hand and I request a paper bag to be placed over the glowing yellow bag of goo. Don't judge me.
More of my mates arrive later that evening, I couldn't get rid of them if I tried or wanted to.


Nothing really happens Sunday. This time I have to have my arm all clingfilmed up for a shower, which is a lot easier for me. Sunday is a really tired day and I find myself drifting off to sleep only to be awakened by the frequent blood pressure tests and temperature takings which I've already got used to. More of my mates arrive that evening and we probably make more noise than we should have considering how amazing the staff have been to me since I arrived at hospital.

Shower time