12. The End Of The Hollow Time

I think of my week in intensive care in Leicester as 'The end of the hollow time'. It was still sucky, not being able to move, but I stopped being in pain. No more were the days of not knowing whether to squeeze yes or no when asked if wanted painkillers, when I was just incredibly stiff and wanted to be repositioned. I indicated I wanted pain relief a few times in Leicester but gradually I didn't need this. My right hand grew strong enough to point out letters on the board and there were plenty of miscommunications but also good communication too. My family were allowed to come 12-8pm, which they did, and I had regular visitors. I felt strangely comforted by having a nurse with me 24/7.

Lots of nurses have told me they have children my age at university. On nurse told me about her son who'd just letft home for uni, and it was very touching. We were both crying. She was trying to comfort me, calling me 'Elizababy', (I gather I was by far the youngest patient there). I wasn't emotional for my sake, it was just very moving when she talked about her son.

I had another nurse who was best friends with one of my nurses in Sheffield, which was a nice coincidence. (They definitely talked about me). I remember making an 'ok' hand gesture to this nurse. She did not understand at all, and insisted I spell it out for her. She struggled to guess the right letters and even got confused thinking it was 'ko', wondering what I meant. It was really quite funny when she finally realised I was just trying to say 'ok'.

My cough by this point was in full swing, complete with snot running down the back of my mouth which I was sure was making me cough more. The nurses had to clean out the gunk by getting a thin tube which sucked air down the traccy. This made me cough more but sucked out yuck (secretions) with a loud slurping sound. It's as gross as it sounds. Credit to everyone who stayed to watch this procedure. It would often take 4 goes at once until my chest was clear for a bit. My dad commented how painful this looked, but it wasn't, it brought welcome relief. Anyone who's had an asthma-attack knows how amazing it is to breathe deeply again. I used to long to be sucked (Suctioned); it was like being hoovered. (I know that sounds weird, but it's true).

Whilst this slop in my chest captured everyone's attention, my food tube in my tummy was beginning to feel really sore when I coughed. One day my left hand was placed over the tube and it felt really irritating. I was exasperated as my right arm was too weak to move it (I tried, believe me), and when people wondered why I was scrabbling about with my hands I spelt out 'My hand is on my keg' (I'd misheard PEG). They then realised the hole had got infected; it had got red and a bit weepy. (I believed them, but I couldn't see it). I was started on a course of antibiotics and it cleared up in a few days.

A bunch of doctors did the rounds, and it had been reported that I wasn't a fan of the lights. They were worried something was wrong with my eyes. I spelt out the whopping sentence, 'I think my reaction to the lights is normal'. My eyes were picking up light normally. The point was, when all you can do is stare at the ceiling, is not fun to just gaze into the lights. I got to know the ceiling quite well.

Lovely.