Betcha thought I was dead …actually, so did I. And there’s still a fair distance to the edge of the woods that I’m fighting to get out of !!.
After my terrific summer drew to and end and I waved goodbye to friends, old and new, I headed home to make the ‘getting ready for winter’ list. I had all the usual: pull up the summer garden and get everything ploughed, pack away the pool, generally tidy the place and make sure everything was working for winter, fireplaces etc…the possibility of spending weeks fighting for my life certainly wasn’t included.
Colin was moving in for his last few weeks in Bulgaria before his return to the UK, so we got him settled and I turned my attention to things to do.
As you know from my blogs since returning to Bulgaria, things have been pretty fantastic. Of course there’s been the odd glitch…life wouldn’t be life without them.
I got so much done with the house and garden and got to enjoy two fantastic summers, meeting new friends and catching up with old. I was happy, healthy, strong and content and really looking forward to my future here.
Now I’m not so sure….
But let me step back to my time in Australia in 2008/2009. In 2009 I just went to the docs for an annual checkup, as you do. I got a call from the surgery late one afternoon asking me to get down there ASAP. As I figured nothing’s that urgent I replied “‘tomorrow?” and was promptly told “no, now”. When I arrived, I was informed that I had returned a very strange blood result and as such, had no immunity. I made the joke that if I caught a cold I’d die…and he replied ‘possibly’. It kinda started to hit home and I underwent another round of blood tests and was then dispatched to Royal Perth Hospital for further testing, because the results were not improving. When your blood is tested, you should have between 2,000 and 11,000 white soldiers to protect you against invading forces…I had 600. I spent a dizzy day at RPH only to be told later that afternoon, that everything have returned to normal. ????? Good news, I didn’t have AIDS, wasn’t HIV positive, showed no signs of any other immunity disease, no visible active cancers…in fact the doctor said I was one of the healthiest people he’d ever tested. All and sundry were perplexed by theses events, but how can you treat something that’s not there. So back to Geraldton I went and never gave it another thought.
Moving forward to September 2011
While I was tripping around with Di I got a little cut on my left index finger and be damned if the bloody thing would heal…I also had a small burn, which was healing but ever so slowly. I figured perhaps just another sign of getting older. The ‘Australian incident’ never for a moment crossed my mind.
Now, I’m a pretty energetic soul. Colin kept telling me I’m hyperactive and should slow down and my neighbours were constantly telling me to slow down and to find a ‘good man’ to do all the work that I was undertaking.. ..but while I was traveling in Spain and France I had a couple of moments where I just flagged. I said to Di a couple of time that I must be having too much fun…and I was, believe you me, but one day I just didn’t have it in me to go with Deb and Di on a day out. I stayed home and nana rested!!
When I got back and did a little blog for France, I put up some pics of Di, Deb and I. I looked at myself and thought ‘jesus christ, you look like shit’ and funnily enough on the other side of the world, my family were making the same observations…did we discuss it ? don’t be ridiculous, we all just got on with our lives…as you do.
My finger still hadn’t healed so I popped into the chemist and got a little cream that sorted it in a couple of days…or did it ? er, no
I was still feeling weak but plugged on thinking I could rest all through winter.
Then there was the little red spot under my right arm. I figured it for a bite but within days I had a large, angry red ‘thing’ that was starting to go blue/black. I was off to Yambol for a massage and decided to pop into the doctor in Insovo and get a script for some antibiotics. She lifted my arm, winced and told me to get to a surgeon, I said I was going for a massage and she said absolutely NOT !!
Anyway, what can I say..I popped into the office of a surgeon at the Polyclinic….he winced as well, told me it was septic and packed me off the (thankfully) the new hospital. I’m thinking “how in the world could something like this go septic in three days ??”
Next surgeon lined up, took a look and said ‘operation’ . I was a little stunned but told him I’d go home and get some bits and bobs and come back. I wasn’t going anywhere and by 5pm was flat out on the operating table, tits akimbo (again) being prepped. Post Op, the shit really hit the fan. The drips were coming thick and fast, lots of blood sampling being done and in between the feverish haze I was dwelling in, a small thought of 2009 in Oz popped into my head. And when one of the doctors came and told me they thought they may have created the right cocktail to halt the infection, I knew what was happening…the infection was winning the battle and I had nothing to give.
That night really was hell, but I woke around 4am and I was dry, not lathered in sweat and the blinding headache I’d had for three days had abated but I was completely exhausted. Of course, the next morning the doctors were happier…temp down, sweating, steaming stopped, but I still had lousy blood results. They sat me down to tell me I had a very dangerous problem, but before he started I asked my translator to tell him about Australia.. He wanted my records, which thanks to some friends and a terrific little doctor that I had in Geradlton, were there hours later. Same problem, only this time I got to see how serious it could be.
He told me I was to get to Sofia to a specialist hematologist as quickly as possible and recommended a specialist hospital there. Armed with all my records I went to my translator and friends Diliana to get things organised. I’m glad I did as she recommended what turned out to be a far, far superior hospital and it gave me a chance to find out what as in my Yambol report. They were diagnosing leukemia, which came a a bit of a surprise, but by this stage I was so sick I didn’t really care.
Next morning I was bundled up in Colin’s car and on my way to the Tukuda Hospital, and we couldn’t have got there sooner. We managed to end up at the back of the hospital and, with the help of a random woman, found the hematology floor. I staggered into the office of the head of Hematology, Dr Radinov, ( much to his surprise) and while he was asking who I was, how I had got into his office, why wasn’t I registered etc etc, I just slumped in a chair and said ‘please help me, I’m so sick and I don’t know what to do’
He immediately went from official director to caring, warm, concerned Doctor. I was in a treatment room before you could say ‘jack robinson’ and my treatment, after a few formalities, swung into action.
I was put into a room and isolated for starters…shouldn’t have been near anyone, apparently…I had a terrific Doctor appointed to me, Dr Amene. He is one of those big, shaven headed, rather scary looking guys and he was fantastic. Once I was settled and he’d had a good chat with me, they bought in something that looked like a hat stand and had about half a dozen different bags handing off it. The next four days were a blur of tramadol, antibiotics, blood and various intravenous infusions and the constant changing of bags and strangers holding my hand and caring for me . But I could feel myself emerging from the darkness and through it all, every now and again I’d peer out through a hazy world and see a large mountain looking down on me. Once I was back in the real world I realised the hospital was at the base of the Vitosha Mountian and it was an enduring and strong image to see in my weakest and most vulnerable moments.
Day five saw a battered and bruised shell of my former self emerge. Dr Amene asked me to stay an extra night and as my friend Dimitor was bringing some people to Sofia on the Saturday, he agreed to bring me home. I had the extra night of observation and though my white cells were showing some improvement, my red cells had decided to join in the fun and weren’t looking great, hence the blood transfusion. My blood pressure was sitting around the 80/54 mark, which was also an issue. My liver, kidneys and pancreas had also taken a bit of a kicking through the whole mess and my Doc had concerns there as well. Seems the only organs that sailed through unscathed are my heart and lungs, which is kind of ironic given I hammered them for 36 years with as many fags as I could jam in. !! They are both in great shape and very strong indeed…at least a little good news 🙂
And so to Bed Land I have come. I am very ill, there’s no doubt about that. Like the doctors in Australia, Dr Amene is shaking his head over this. They can all see the problems, but there don’t seem to be a lot of answers. I do suspect that Dr Amene isn’t just going to shove this under the carpet and hope it goes away…he seems to have a great deal of interest in what’s happening and suggests I should be monitored. I’m back there next week for a check up so lets see what we can come up with.
The local doctor has been popping and giving me B12 injections and the good news is that my blood pressure has rising to the dizzy, and very respectable, heights of 110/80. Hes also been changing the dressing on the wound under my arm and that’s coming on at last.
Dr Amene says I’m a fighter but I confess to having some dark moments just now. Six months ago I was a strong, healthy 56 year old woman working like a navie, taking on everything the world could throw at me and enjoying every second of it, loving my life and all it was giving me. Just now, the trip from my bed to the dunny (maybe 10metres) is really hard work. This is not for me. Let’s hope the improvement continues.
My sister Jillian, the same rock that got me through last time, is flying in on the 20th and I know that will bring some sanity into my existence. She’s amazing and I admit to lying here counting off the days until she walks in the door…hopefully I can walk out to meet her, not shuffle to her like her granny 🙂
I wasn’t going to put any of this up here but have had so many messages asking what the hell is happening. I’ve also been swamped with emails but I only have about an hours working time in me each day( and half of that is spent getting the geese fed and kicking Gina out for some fresh air ) and I’m sorry, but I just don’t have the energy to do individual messages.
There may be stories from Bed Land…though let’s be honest, it’s a pretty boring place even when I’m too sick to be anywhere else.
Ah yes, perhaps there’s life in the old dog yet…
