Last Christmas I almost died

Last Christmas I almost died. On December 18th I started feeling sick. I couldn’t breathe and I had mild chest pain. I went to the ER and they told me it was asthma. They gave me an inhaler and some pills and sent me home. The gave me a COVID test that came back negative. The next day, I was still feeling ill so I went back and again I was sent home because apparently I was having a panic attack. And again they gave me meds, another COVID test (also negative) and sent me home. And the next day I could barely stand… I went to a different doctor who told me I had an iron deficiency. They prescribed some iron supplements and sent me home. I wasn’t feeling any better so on the 21st I went to a private hospital and they had to literally wheel me in because I fell… I couldn’t stand on my own two feet snd by this time I had a sharp pain on my left leg. After some blood work and other tests they had to send me back to the ER for a CAT scan. After hours of waiting I was finally told that I was positive for COVID and that I was having a pulmonary embolism. I was admitted to the COVID ward and treated for this life threatening condition. I was alone and scared. On Christmas Eve a man in the next room died. A nurse sang Christmas carols while they wheeled him out of the room. I spent Christmas alone and scared in the hospital. 

I was mistreated by nurses because they couldn’t find any good veins to draw their daily dose of blood from. I was  given a transfusion because I also had severe anemia. Every night before sleep I could feel Death breathing down my neck. On December 30th I was released and allowed to come home on the condition if self-isolate until January 7th. Of course I agreed and I cried happy tears because I’d be going home to my son and my two cats. 

Once I got home I knew I had to change everything and so I changed my eating habits and I started going out for short walks. At first I could hardly walk around the block and after 5 minutes I was tired. After a couple of weeks I was walking for about an hour straight so I decided to join the local gym.

Six months later and sixteen kilos lighter, I feel stronger. But I sometimes feel the hairs on the back of my head stand up and I know it’s Death breathing down my neck again. I am not out of the woods yet because the doctors still don’t know what caused the embolism - was it COVID related or not? I am still takings meds and I am still anemic and no one seems to know why. Things are moving very slowly but surely and although I don’t have any straight answers yet I know that I am on the right track to regaining my health.

This is my awakening. A rude awakening that was much needed because I had no idea how bad my health really was. It took almost dying to come to terms with what I had done to myself over the years. And now that I can admit that there is no one but myself to blame, I can forgive myself and work hard towards healing.

And here I am! A work in progress…