When a doctor tells you that you’re okay, and perhaps just need to suck on some ginger, you think, “Ok… let me buy some ginger”. In the case of Dr.W however, I am pleased to say that I was right and he was oh so wrong.
After my Monday visit with him, and a frantic breakdown of desperate tears on Monday night, I took the tablets he offered on Tuesday and Wednesday and although I wasn’t sick during those two days, I was so tired I could not stay awake or continue to do a full day’s work. On Thursday I had a busy day and couldn’t afford to take the tablets, so instead spent the day between my desk and the bathroom again, and by Friday morning was at the point of self harm out of sheer desperation. I had a meeting with one of our providers during which I had to excuse myself. At the end of the meeting, Duncan, the director of their company and by now someone I know quite well asked me if I was okay, because I wasn’t really myself. I told him in brief strokes what was going on, and he was very sympathetic, having known someone with the condition previously. He strongly encouraged me to go to A&E and have myself admitted. Strongly to the point of wanting to accompany me for the afternoon wait!
I persuaded him that I would go and did not need company.
Upon arriving at A&E and almost passing out in the queue, it was finally my turn to spread my woes to the smiley woman behind the counter. Upon her question “have you been to your GP”, I lost all control of my faculties and resumed Monday night’s frantic sobbing (great fun with a whole emergency room full of people watching you blubber!) I went to see the nurse within about 15 minutes, and although she was okay, she too had that “this is your first pregnancy, isn’t it?” sneer about her. Two hours later, parched to the point that I could no longer swallow, I was finally summonsed in to the emergency room. I was given a bed to lie on, a urine test to take, and my bloods were drawn. I was allowed to stay there and sleep while the bloods went off to the lab. My urine was the colour of muddy water, and my feelings of sickness were justified when the results came back with +++++ (5+) ketones.
I was immediately put on an IV saline drip, and half an hour later on another. I was then moved to an observation ward where I was able to see Martin, although I don’t believe I was overly coherent at that point! Six hours after walking in to the A&E of Kings College Hospital, I was admitted to Katherine Monk ward, bed 20 where I was to spend the next 3 days. I was given 5 litres of intravenous liquid before I was able to go to the toilet again, and it took two days for my ketones to get back down to zero. So much for Dr.W’s diagnoses that I wasn’t dehydrated enough to be taken seriously.
As far as hospital stays go, this was a good one. My tv was broken, so I slept and read and played a lot of puzzle games, and I shared the room with two annoying women, but fortunately I was able to tune out their eccentricities in my own misery! The night nurse, a lady by the name of Janel was my own personal angel of mercy. Not only did she treat me as a person, make me feel comfortable, explain what was going on and what I was to expect, but when she had time, she also sat with me, spoke to me and made me feel at ease. I know that if I was ever to be sick again, I would request whatever ward she’s on.
I was released on Monday afternoon, and went straight back to two full on days of work. That wasn’t really clever as it turned out on Wednesday evening when I became violently ill again. I have taken the rest of the week a little easier indeed!