After spending the afternoon with my Mum who had come into town to have lunch with me on my day off I was beginning to feel really bad. I didn’t even finish my Byron burger which to anyone that knows me will ring alarm bells straight away.
I got home and after instructing K to run me a very hot bath I jumped in and still couldn’t stop shivering. I really should have gone to the hospital at this point – having had a kidney transplant in 2008 I don’t have an immune system and so the slightest cold can make me pretty poorly. But despite K’s insistence that I should at least call the kidney unit I decided to go to bed ‘and sleep it off.’ How I thought I was going to sleep off a great big fucker of an infection I have no idea.
I spent the night in and out of fevers which made me talk throughout the night whilst not realising what I was saying and thrash around. What a joy for K I was.
In the morning, it was time to see a Doctor. So K rang the GP and they told me to pop in that morning. There was gonna be no popping, I literally couldn’t get out of bed so to cut a long story short I rolled up at A&E that evening to be straight away put on IVs to stop the infection that had no hit my kidney and bladder full force.
The next couple of weeks were a bit of a blur of sleeping, IVs, pain killers, The Good Wife, bed picnics and lots of visits from K and my Mum who basically moved in to Hotel Hospital. Perhaps my illustration below will explain it better than I can…