At this stage my anxiety was at its worst, every day was an uncertainty. I remember laying in bed each night trying to fall asleep and just hoping that I wouldn’t be sick the next morning, however it didn’t always work in my favor. With no diagnosis, naturally, I was fearing the worst, but I tried my best to push those thoughts to the back of my mind and I tried to stay positive despite the unknown.
Even though I began to expect I would be nauseated in the mornings, every morning was different. Sure it would start around the same time of day, usually around 6 am on wards. However, some days I would awake with just nausea or pain, I may vomit once or twice and I’ll be fine. Other mornings, it will be as if the monster has taken over, and I find myself crawling towards the bathroom, as a hot shower or bath brings some temporary relief.
The vomiting is relentless, it feels as if all the muscles in my body are squeezing as tight as they can, trying to force out what ever bile is left in my stomach. The shaking, the headache, the pain. Whenever a bad episode hits, I just hope it doesn’t last for too long, I’m not sure how much of this my body can take, after all, I still don’t even know what it is I am fighting.
My doctors appointments continued, more tests, more confusion. I even went on a special diet for 3 weeks to see if it was an intolerance to something, but nothing changed besides my grocery bill. They tested me for deficiencies, for Reflux and once again, pregnancy (even though I have told them I wasn’t pregnant, I was on the pill, plus they have tested me for pregnancy not long before.) They had to try to rule everything out, and they almost did.
It was Sunday September 22nd in the year of 2013, I woke up to nausea, although this time it was far more severe. The noises I was making as my body tightened and tried to regurgitate whatever was in my stomach were indescribable, I remember my young nephew was saying that there was a monster in my room, I remember how fitting the word “monster” was for what I was going through at that time, yet this time when the episode started, it didn’t stop for over a week.
This was the longest and most severe episode I have encountered since my H.Pylori. I was on my 8th day of vomiting, there was nothing left to bring up as I was physically unable to hold down any food or liquid, I was running on empty. My partner was over at the house on day 8, he and my mother were very concerned about me, I could only imagine what I looked like. This would be my 3rd trip to the hospital this week.
They decided enough was enough and they asked me to get out of bed and they were going to drive me to the hospital. Unfortunately, I was so weak from dehydration and so sore that I wasn’t even able to make it the 5 meters or so from my bedroom to the front lounge room. I fell, their worries increased and my mother ended up calling an ambulance to come and pick me up. I honestly thought I was going to die this day, yet I tried not to show my fears.
When the ambulance arrived, they asked me to stand, as I did, I remember the paramedic in charge (Paul) noticed I was going pale, they grabbed my arms as I collapsed. They then carried me onto the stretcher and lifted me into the ambulance van. My mum and my partner followed in a car behind. I remember vaguely being in the ambulance, they were talking to me about my symptoms and I felt as if they were actually taking me seriously.
I remember they were discussing what hospital they thought would be best to go to, now I will not name the hospital involved as they are the ones whose treatment I would describe as deplorable. I also wont go into detail in regards to what happened, but I will say,that this day my parents were determined to get me admitted to the hospital and kept at least overnight so we could finally figure out what was going on with me. Though after the way I was treated, and after 3 bags of IV fluids, they were asking to take me home. It prompted my mother to actually write to someone who took it further with the NSW Department of Health.
I didn’t know what to think after that hospital trip. I certainly did not want to go back, that was for sure. But I also left with no diagnosis. The last episode that got me there in the first place was a huge wake up call. I needed someone to take me seriously, I needed answers. I was scared another attack was just around the corner, I was scared my body would not be able to handle it.
I felt as if I was just going around in circles. At this stage I was certain I was going to die from whatever this illness was, and I was only 21 years old. I was now encouraged to take this into my own hands even further, I needed answers and I needed them now.
A Chronic Mind; 