I know I’ve been a bit absent on here lately… I didn’t plan to disappear.

But life threw me a curveball I totally wasn’t prepared for.

So, you know how I mentioned I wasn’t feeling great? I thought I’d picked up some delightful bug that was doing the rounds. Well, by Tuesday night, something didn't feel right. I usually get a fever for a day or two and it passes. But this one wasn’t going anywhere. It was actually getting worse. 

Of course, at around 2am I decided to ask Dr Google what was wrong with me. Five minutes later I'd convinced myself I had an infection. I told Luke, and he told me to stop Googling - fair enough, considering I’d diagnosed myself with COVID only days before. 

Wednesday morning I woke up drenched in sweat (lovely, I know), called 111, got a GP appointment for 9:45am, and by late morning I was in A&E. The pain was ramping up, the fever wasn’t shifting, but honestly? Even then, I still thought I’d be home the next day with a course of antibiotics for the infection I was so sure I had.

In my head it was straightforward: get antibiotics, feel better, go home. Except… yeah, it didn't quite work out like that.

By 10pm they’d found me a bed in a side room. Yep, I did have an infection - but no, I would not be home Thursday. At midnight I had my first dose of antibiotics and thought, “Great, this will kick in soon.” But, nope, the pain got worse. I ended up on codeine and morphine (which I now hate), waking constantly for more pain relief, and battling the worst headache.

On Thursday morning, they put in a cannula for fluids and phosphates. Later, I started being sick. They switched me to IV paracetamol and gave me anti-sickness medication. The only thing I could take by mouth was the morphine. Everything felt like a blur. Time on morphine is weird. I’d sleep what felt like hours, check the clock, and it had been 20 minutes. That evening I kept down some jelly and thought, okay maybe things are turning around now. Maybe the antibiotics are starting to work.

Friday I had a chest X-ray, then an MRI scan. At around 6:40pm a doctor came in and said, “Sarah, we need to operate.” Weirdly, it was the best news I’d heard all week. Finally, an explanation. A plan. A way to end the pain. But because I’d eaten? No operation until morning. I was gutted. That night felt endless. I was sick, exhausted, asking for painkillers every couple of hours, and the clock felt frozen. I just needed the morning to hurry up.

Saturday at 9am they took me down. Oxygen mask on, anaesthetic in… and that’s all I remember. When I woke up, a nurse was there watching over me. The relief was instant. Yes, the post-op pain was there, but it was nothing compared to before. I decided right then: no more morphine or codeine. Just paracetamol from now on. And that was enough.

At 4am the next morning I was woken to be moved to a ward with five other people. I was half-asleep, but the staff were amazing and wheeled everything - including me, still in bed - around to the new room. That became home for the next four days.

Sunday morning I woke to someone saying, “Sarah! SARAH! You’re causing a trip hazard!” I’d rolled over in my sleep and tangled myself in all the tubes. 

It was also the boys’ birthday, the first one I’ve ever missed. We were meant to be away for the night, but obviously that had to be cancelled. Massive shout-out to the lady who runs the place - she was so lovely and let me rearrange for when I’m better. I felt rubbish not being there, but Luke was amazing and they had a great day.

Weirdly, I was hallucinating that Sunday. And I wasn’t even on morphine or codeine anymore! Maybe it was the general anaesthetic wearing off, maybe the strong antibiotics, maybe the exhaustion, who knows. But I remember staring at the blue hospital curtains and seeing faces and animals forming in the patterns. They looked so real. They’d morph into different things, almost like a slow animation. My bed felt like it was going up and down, even though it wasn’t. When I closed my eyes, I saw shapes and colours and strange little scenes. It wasn’t scary, just… bizarrely calming.

I wrote notes on my phone that day like:
“Five minutes of energy, then I’m wiped out again.”
“I can see things moving even though I know they’re not.”
“I keep seeing people and shapes beside me that aren’t actually there, but they feel real.”

At some point on Sunday, a nurse came in, glanced at my oxygen tubes and said, “You don’t need these anymore. Nothing’s coming through.” Brilliant. Then she asked, “Could you feel that it wasn’t coming out anymore?” Honestly, I felt like saying, “Feel it? I’ve got animals crawling out of the curtains and imaginary people standing beside my bed… and you want to know if I can sense oxygen in my nostrils?”

The next day (Monday), I finally managed my first shower. It felt so good. I wasn’t in much pain by then, just light-headed and pretty tired. I took it as a good sign, like maybe I was finally turning a corner. I know, I know… I’d already been prematurely optimistic twice before. But this time it really felt like I was starting to get better.

That night I actually felt awake for the first time in days. But the following morning, waking up was nearly impossible again. Same on Tuesday. Hospital time is weird. You nap at random, only to be woken up at all hours for observations, meds, IV antibiotics, cannula changes, blood tests, and mealtimes. Before you know it, you’re living in this weird little bubble, completely disconnected from the world outside.

By Wednesday evening, I was discharged. And now I’m home, resting, and trying not to overdo it. 

Today is Thursday and I honestly thought I’d be feeling a bit more normal - but I’m still low-energy, still dizzy if I do too much… and by “do too much,” I mean basic things like getting dressed or making tea. It’s frustrating, but healing after surgery isn’t a straight line, right? Then again, nothing in life really is. Hopefully tomorrow I’ll wake up feeling a little more like myself.

I’m still tired and groggy, so if I’m not very active on here, that’s why. I can do a few things and then suddenly hit a wall and need to lie down again. It’s annoying, but I know my body is doing its best to recover.

And guess what? I haven’t had coffee since last Wednesday. I know. I never thought I’d see the day either.

So yeah, I’ll be back to my regular blogging soon, but first this body (and brain) of mine needs some proper rest. 🩷