Tales From a Female Traveller

How many men does it take to look after a Lucy?

Way too many to count it seems.
I've had a wonderful week. I actually think it might be worthy of it's own House episode.
Tuesday I got up out of bed with the worst sore neck. By about mid morning it was bad enough for me to request an ice pack for it so I could keep working. It seemed to work because the pain just subsided to a dull ache. So I trudged on at work and at about 3 or 4 my stomache started to have a fit of Delhi Belly, so, naturally, you think it's something you ate. How wrong I was.

I decided to leave work at about 5 so I didn't miss the peak hour train home (making my journey a lot longer) and headed out the door for the 10 minutue walk to the station. The walk was a little difficult, I remember thinking that if I could just get to the train without incident that everything would be okay. I made it to the platform with about 5 minutes until the train came and that's when the headspin came on... and WHOA was it a headspin. I decided to lean against the cold wall to try and keep myself awake until the train came, but my stomache was getting worse and the whole train station was spinning around and then SMACK..... I'm down for the count.

Not long after that I must have been sick alllll over the place because when I regained consciousness there were about 7 or 8 guards and police around me trying to figure out what had happened. I don't remember much but I do remember the guard with the Scottish accent who must have been first on the scene... or maybe the only one with a First Aid qualification.. because he was at my head.

I have my own Senior First Aid qualification and strangely enough it was all running through my head. Has he put me in the recovery position? Yes. Is he supporting my head with both hands? Yes. Do I know my name? Yes. Do I know my date of birth? No (probably tried to forget). Is he trying to keep me awake in case of concussion? Yes. As far as I could tell... in my wonderfully lucid state... he was doing a bang up job!!! Then I knew he'd start asking the important questions like "Have you had anything to drink today?" I wish.. I thought... and closed my eyes to indicate no. "Now I have to ask you this, have you taken any drugs, it's okay if you have you can tell me?" At this point I think I remember giving a half snort/laugh which to them looked more like a choking cough which they interpeted correctly as no. And I can tell you now.... this is where I started to become aware of my surroundings and it was NOT nice. Here I was on a train station I frequent daily at PEAK HOUR looking like the biggest drug addict the city has seen and I'm lying in a pool of my own vomit..nice.. so what did I do? Yep... I started to cry...**laughs**
My poor Scottish guy was that distressed at this he quickly moved me out of my pool and away behind a pole and cradled me in a half hug... god love him. It's amazing where a little tear will get ya! I'm not sure how long I was there but eventually the ambos came and I was taken to the hospital.

It's hazy after this but I remember bits and pieces of conversation like...
"How many have you seen of these this year?"
"Two out of Three died....but Lucy's not gonna die are ya!!?"
which as you can imagine mad me feel just great! I also heard other things like...
"She's photophobic"
"Do you get migraines?"
"She's tachycardic."
"Blood pressure low."
"Lucy, have you noticed any rashes lately?"
"I've given her 2.5 of morphine but from the looks of her she's gonna need 5."
And unless I was just delirious there must have been about a dozen different nurses and three different doctors... some with better bedside manners than others. The person that did strike me as the most compassionate was my ambo.

From the point of picking me up on the platform to the point where they had to go out for another job, he was there talking to me... even rubbing my back as I emptied my stomache.. or the lining of it... into those little white bags they give you in the hospital.
"What a way to end the day." he'd say to me as I turned inside out like a scene from a bad horror movie... "You poor thing... I'm so sorry this has happened to you." He was just great... he treated me like a person and not just another job they have to clean up after and I actually felt quite safe while he was around. He even tried to make me laugh by telling me about the posse of sercurity guards and cops that were looking after me and my stuff on the platform and told me that it was pretty impressive I still had pulling power while I was out cold... LOL.
I wish I had have been able to see his face in more than just a blurred half conscious way... his name was Darren and he was my hero I guess.

As the night wore on I was still sick and at one stage I heard them say they thought I might have meningitis which I realised must have been what the ambos were talking about when they said that two out of three had died... nasty stuff that. Thankfuly though I didn't and then the diagnosis changed to MASSIVE migraine but even in my state that didn't make sense to me because my stomache hurt more than my head and that was shortly scrapped. Finally, they settled on "Viral Gastroentiritis.." or something or other... and boy did I have a bad case of it....bloody terrible. Even now... three days on sitting in my bed typing this I STILL feel nauseous.

When I was at my worst in the hospital I remember trying to humble myself by thinking about all the people out there... like the cancer patients and the terminally ill who actually live in as much pain as I was in everyday... probably more!! And I felt so terrible that I had the nerve to come to a hospital for a while and go home well and they didn't that I must have completeley internalised it because one of the doctors told me they had no idea I was in such immense pain because I was so quiet. I don't really know why, but that's what I remember thinking about at that point... If they suffer with worse than this everyday I can suffer with it for a few days.. if not a few hours at least. Crazy I know...

It was so surreal too, because I remember thinking that they had called my "next of kin" when they asked me who that was, but when no one showed up at the hospital to feel sorry for me I knew I should call someone. I didn't really want anyone to see me how I was but I also didn't want to be alone so I tried calling home but the number was engaged. I tried to think of a few other numbers to call but do you THINK I could remember ONE persons number from my phone... which I DIDN'T have? Nope. The only persons number I could remember was my friend Byron's. What a friend. The poor guy was about to go to bed. I tried to give him the simplest directions possible but knowing he'd just get lost anyway I told him to call.. which was stupid seeing as I didn't have my phone..lol... but he ended up making it there about an hour and a half later after getting lost a dozen times.. I'm the navigator you see...LOL. Thank god for him, I'm not sure how I would have gotten home otherwise. I am glad to be out of the hospital though... thank god it all happened now instead of three weeks from now when I'm overseas!!

posted by Lucyspeak @ 4:43 pm