Coronavirus Day 13 - Listen to Your Body, Listen to Public Health England
I love to write. Usually I write letters to family & friends or articles for the GLM Blog and newsletters, and over the last 18 months, I have also had to write assignments for the GDL course I have been studying. I have always loved words, much much more than I love numbers. But this Blog is not about words, it is about emotions, mainly the fear I have felt over the last 2 weeks.
Mother’s day was the last day I was out in public; I felt that being at the cemetery visiting my Mum who passed away 10 months ago, was the safest place to be. I am not being unkind, I felt comfort that there were no other people around and I was properly distancing myself as I had been for a while on the advice of one of my Italian cousins in Rome who had been on lockdown with his family.
The next day was a busy working day. The first full day of the lockdown and Government imposed social-distancing. A lot of our clients had shut their high street offices and were already working from home; others were in the transitionary period and along with abiding with the new Government regulations, they were also trying to navigate how the dynamic between landlord, tenant and them would now have to function. Our job was to help them with documents, changes being announced what seemed to by the hour, but were in fact daily announcements that would affect businesses, livelihoods, families, the whole of the UK.
That Monday night I went to bed satisfied that we had done what we could to provide at least some support as my colleague and I remotely watched out website crash through the sheer demand for our Covid bundle of documents. My sleep was broken in the very early hours by what I can only describe as my whole body feeling sunburnt - my skin felt too hot to touch. I called out to my twin-sister who took my temperature - the thermometer read 39 degrees. I took paracetamol drink and settled myself back to bed. The following morning I spoke to my GP who arranged for me to have a prescription of antibiotics, inhalers - 2 colours and 5 days of steroids. As an asthmatic and sufferer of sleep apnoea, she just wanted to be sure I had everything I needed. Local volunteers collected the medication, and I continued to happily work in the back garden over the next few days.
On Friday 27th, things began to change. My temperature kept spiking, I was struggling to get a breath, my head ached, my body ached, my appetite had gone (very unlike me), tea did not taste like tea. I no longer had the energy to work, and when I say work, there was no commute involved, no prepping for training sessions, no standing for hours ion end, no talking non stop. This was work like I had never known it - in pyjamas, sitting at the kitchen table, watching the activity in the garden. By the early evening, my GP had called in via video consultation. She was convinced that I had the virus; my body was following a curve that either settled with very mild symptoms or got worse. I was getting worse. I spent the whole weekend in bed. My sister took my temperature at regular intervals , it kept fluctuating between 38 and 39. I felt nauseous because i could not keep any food down, but I needed paracetamol for the temperature. On Sunday, my sister noticed a rash on the right side of my face.It didn’t stop there, my body was also reacting to something.
Monday morning, another video consultation with my GP. The look on her face was one of horror - I could tell that she was shocked by my decline. My body couldn’t cope with the heat, the cough, the pain and now the rash. She “examined” me and diagnosed an allergic reaction to the antibiotic I had been given for a kidney infection. I cried and I think she wanted to cry too. She didn’t want to move me but she also wanted to help me. She said that I needed to overcome and fight this next phase. I had a secondary infection in my chest and as long as I could fight it, I would be fine. She promised to see me again the next day.
March 31st - our birthday. The GP called, she tried to encourage me through my tears. I sobbed as the pain in my chest and head were unbearable; I tried to be stoic and strong, however, I just could not muster up any energy to feel positive - and to top it all, it was my birthday. After opening beautiful, thoughtful cards and gifts from family and friends, I sobbed my way through the day. Positivity is a state of mind and at times like this needed to get through the obstacles everyone has to overcome, yet I felt overwhelmed and fragile.
April 1st - No April Fools jokes, no laughter, no sense of humour. My temperature is starting to come down but my breathing is erratic. I have no energy, although I make and take calls from my bed. The odd person tells me I sound horse; talking fro more than a few minutes, is difficult.
Thursday is not a good day. A GP with 111 has requested an ambulance to come and collect me. I have a “wheeze” and he things I need some more support. He tells me not to rush to get ready as there is a 4 to 10 hour wait for an ambulance. Just before Midnight a paramedic knocks at the door, wearing gloves and a mask, he introduces himself as Kev. He gets to work checking my heart, blood pressure, oxygen, listening carefully to my lungs as I cough. He is the first person in 2 weeks to make me smile. He decides that home is the best place for me, with more antibiotics and a strong regimen of inhalers. Hospital, he says, is not the right place for me.
Friday’s video consultation with my GP takes place later than normal. She is pleased to see me looking more like me. She wants me to have the anti-body test to see how my body has reacted to the virus, but announces the surgery has no tests. We arrange a follow up for Monday.
Today, Sunday, has been the first day in the garden for over 10 days - the sky is a gorgeous shade of blue, the sun feels tremendous on my skin and even though I am weaker than normalcy no longer drink tea, it is wonderful to be able to say that I am feeling much better.
You know your body better than anyone else. Listen to your body. Listen to Public Heath England. Stay Safe.
Susie Crolla