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

Thursday. 23rd April. Not a great day.

This will be a long post as Thursday and the last few days have been busy to say the least, so apologies in advance. Please bare with me if its poorly written as my concentration and focus have been really struggling.

The last few days have been truly bizarre and were it not for my friends who have practically been by my side 24/7 annoying the nurses and doctors with their continuous coming and going, this last week would certainly have been a lot more distressing than it has been.

Sitting in my student house playing MotorStorm on PS3 with my housemates while we wait for the 6pm Channel 4 Simpsons episode to start on Thursday afternoon seems like it was only yesterday, if not sooner.

I came back to University from the Easter Holidays having just recovered from Tonsillitis, something that I had never had before. Within a week of being back I started having a wisdom tooth breaking through which was really hurting my gums and as such I went to the Lincoln surgery on Friday 17th to ask for advice. I was told to take paracetamol and that if the pain persisted come back on Monday. Monday came, I was back at the surgery and was prescribed antibiotics and thankfully booked into a blood test for Thursday morning by the nurse who thought I seemed pale.

Over the next few days I took antibiotics as prescribed and struggled with really low energy and fatigue. This was something that I had been really feeling for the whole of April but had just attributed to side affects of tonsillitis and now this pain in my mouth. Usually I would go gym 3 times a week, play 5 a side and sometimes squash. I was at a point where I was having to turn down playing football, something that anyone who knows me will realise what a big thing that is.

Thursday morning I had my blood test walked home and lay on my bed, already quite tired. I spent the rest of the day trying to complete one of my final essays of Third Year, ate outside with some mates in the sun and then settled down for PS3 and Simpsons. As the PS3 screen was loading for another race I glanced down at my phone which had 2 missed calls from a Lincoln number, straight away it started ringing again. Answering it, I was told it was the Lincoln surgery and they had my blood results and were about to pass me to someone else on the line. This was pretty surprising as it was only 5:45pm and my blood test had been around 10:15 that morning. Instantly as the phone was passed to a new person I had a panicked voice on the line which seemed close to yelling telling me to drop everything I was doing, pack an overnight bag and get to Lincoln County Hospital immediately. That apparently my blood count should be at 160, while in fact it is at 43.
I don't really know what that means so I do what the voice tells me and start packing a bag, just a phone charger, underwear and socks. What more do I need? He rings back straight away that there is a bed waiting for me at the hospital.

Soon a cab arrives and an amused group consisting of myself and a couple of my mates get into the vehicle and head to hospital. I'm sent to the MEAU ward where immediately I have blood pressure tests and another blood test. My mates and I aren't taking this seriously, laughing with the staff and generally being really annoying as you can see

Hospital Banter

My friends leave at about 10pm and I stay in the ward using my iPod to drown out the noises of the other patients. I am then given an informative leaflet about what the night ahead will contain.

Bun that indeed.

 At about half past midnight I'm taken in a wheelchair by a porter across the university to have an x-ray of my chest to check for infections I think.

Back at the bed I am inserted with a catheter into the crook of my right arm, its still there right now. I am then hooked up to a unit of blooooood. I try to sleep and am then nudged awake around 3 or 4am for another bag of blood to be hooked into. I'm finally fully awake by about 6:30 as I am unhooked from the 2nd unit of blood.

Such fun. How we laughed.

There is a lot to write and say and as such I don't want to bore anyone who bothers to read this absolute essay of a post so I will write up and put other parts up as and when I can. Because to do from Thursday to now would be a very long blog post. As I write this it is midday Monday and I am currently waiting on some results from a committee meeting on what is happening to me.

I do want to conclude with advice though. Since Christmas I had noticed that my body was slightly different. There were signs when I look back should have alerted me but I ignored them as just oddities. The main sign that I should have acted upon was bruising. I don't usually bruise easily, yet since Christmas I was getting some absolute shiners.

This elbow swelling was over new years, which to be fair may have just been a completely honest injury as I did have a spectacular crash on the final day. Like seriously an impressive crash, still mentally scarred from it. I dealt with this snowboard injury by keeping my elbow in the sink for 20 minutes haha. I did get some bruises this holiday but I didn't photograph them.









Anyone who has been to the infamous, the notorious, the glorious...the Superbull, knows that sometimes you can wake up with bruises that you have no idea how they arrived.

However in hindsight considering I was getting these kind of bruises quite frequently which I didn't really have much of an explanation for, I should have gone to have it checked out. In fact I was advised by my housemates to do so but I just laughed it off saying it was from football and being a victim of the merciless Bull.

I had a lot more bruises like these at least weekly on places like my thighs and calf's, but obviously I don't take pictures of every bruise I get as I'm not a weirdo.

If you're reading this and you seem to be getting big bruises which regardless of whether you're active and play sport you cant really account for. As I played 5 a side, and I'd like to say my opponents weren't kicking the absolute shit out of me, at least not enough for shiners like this, then I'd recommend getting checked. As well as bruises, aches in your legs when walking at times. Whatever it is that I'm currently suffering from it's been seen just in time, if I'd gone earlier it would have been nipped in the bud and I wouldn't be in the situation I currently am in.