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It was only when I was in the back of the Ambulance with my best friend beside me that I finally relaxed and closed my eyes. I’d be OK now, I remember thinking. The calming, no-nonsense attitude of the paramedics lulling me into security.
It all started on a long drive in my car. I had a chest infection – nothing major really, and I wasn’t going to let it stop my holiday to visit my friends. During the two hour drive, the worsening cough and the constant use of my asthma inhaler told me to go back, but I’m stubborn. I wanted to visit my friend, and I was damn well going to do so!
Needless to say by the time I reached my destination I had barely said hello before I managed to tell them to get me to a hospital in between pained gasps for breath. They bundled me into the back of their car, and drove me to their towns small hospital.
Unfortunately for us, this small hospital had downsized somewhat since they had last been there, and it was closed. By this time I could barely breathe at all. They took me to a friends house and dialled 999.
All through this I wanted to cry but I couldn’t. Crying was the worst thing I could do, the sobs alone would cause my breathing to get far worse. I concentrated on my breathing. Long ago, a nurse once told me “If you are awake and conscious, then enough air IS getting in”, I let these words roll around in my head. I wasn’t going to die. I couldn’t speak or move, but I wasn’t dead.
After what seemed like an age two paramedics appeared and quickly placed an oxygen mask on me with a medicine that I inhaled through the steam. The sweet, sweet relief was incredible, but short lived. Once it had finished, they took off the oxygen to see if I had improved. The breathing worsened within seconds.
I was taken to hospital quickly, my friend by my side and her husband following in his car. As soon as I got there I was surrounded by doctors and nurses. They all seemed so busy and rushed, yet they were talking to me so calmly, telling me I’d be ok.
I was ok. After a week in critical care, I was allowed to go home. Once again I made that two hour long journey back home and wept the whole way. I finally cried for how frightened I felt at the beginning, and I cried that I was ok now and going back home. At least I learned the symptoms of a chest infection.
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