It’s not easy to accept this disease for what it is, a destroyer; causing so much pain, both physical and emotional. Even so, as I share this from my journal, just remember that I’m a proper bitch! It’s just a glimpse into what’s been going on. Besides, now, a fortnight later, I have regained some control over my life thanks to diligent doctors and excellent health care. I might even go climbing next week.
Friday the 18th of November 2022
The morning started out quite well and I felt alright; not brill, but also not terrible. Physio cleared my lungs pretty good. Around lunch I attended a meeting with one of the candidates (Murre) for the Center party’s upcoming party leader election. When we were done l went straight to the climbing hall, feeling kind of sparky. Though, that would prove to be fleeting.
Walking down the hallway towards the reception, l could feel the ominous and all too familiar bubbly feeling in my left lung. Something that can only be associated with haemoptysis. True to form, my mouth filled with blood and I hurried as fast as I could to the loo, hoping to go unnoticed. The next cough forced its way up before I could make it to the sink and, well, gore ended up on the floor. Lovely!
I kept hackning for a while, don’t know for how long, but long enough to get frightened. When the bleed seemed to have settled down I cleaned up the floor, sink, and myself best I could. Needless to say, the sparky feeling had vanished by now. Anyway, the floor ha this non-slip texture, making it impossible to wipe clean with just tissue – and, the loo roll ran out. I had no choice but to ask for help.
I absolutely loathe having to ask for help.
Simon, one of the gym owners, mopped the floor and made me a cup of tea. I coughed some more – managing to keep it to the sink this time. It ended up being a pretty significant amount of blood in the end (big bleeds are traumatic and I doubt I was able to hide it). He asked if I needed to go to the hospital – I said no.
I was already mortified having someone clean up after me, or actually, even just seeing my mess. I was not willing to admit to needing more help. Foolish and also downright dangerous; lung bleeds are terrifying, and sometimes deadly (they can become so big that you have no chance of clearing your lungs fast enough as not to drown in your own blood – a wonderful mental image). And there is nothing you can do in that moment to make it stop, other than hoping it’s not your time to die. Calling the hospital is also a sensible thing to do, which I, for the record, did end up doing in the end. I’m sure I’ll be on the mend soon, but I’m gutted and so done trying to pretend being strong.
So now I don’t know if I’m ever going to be able to show my face at the gym comfortably again. I worry that they’ll think differently about me. Look at me differently. Be frightened of me. I’m a bloody walking time bomb!