April, for me, started in hospital – my 3rd day there. In similar circumstances, back in August, I was allowed home on day five. This time, a weekend got in the way so it was day six before they started tests to confirm I was well enough to go home. The results showed, instead, that I had another infection not shown on my chest x-ray at the time of admission. It was back onto more powerful antibiotics, and another week until they took effect. I was finally allowed home on day 15.
In addition to antibiotics , my treatment throughout my stay in hospital included the attentions of the physiotherapy team, three times per day, to ‘pump me out’. Those of a sensitive nature should, perhaps, skip the next two paragraphs! A symptom of most chest infections is production of excessive phlegm, which most people cough up unaided; but with my much weakened chest and diaphragm muscles, I need help. For some time, I have had a ‘Cough Assistor’ machine at home. Set up to match my lung capacity, a single cycle with the machine fully inflates my lungs, stirring up loose fluids. After the third inflation, the machine sucks hard while I cough, thus increasing air velocity and shifting more mucus. In hospital, the Cough Assistor remained the basic instrument of torture, but the physios had additional tricks in their kitbags!
Cat, the senior physiotherapist, introduced me to ‘the push’. She did explain it first, that during the cough/suck phase, she would push down on my stomach as further assistance to my cough. What I was not prepared for was the ferocity with which she pushed hard down on my solar plexus, forcing my internal organs up into the chest cavity!! Her repetitions of this manoeuvre had me so tense with anticipation that I couldn’t cough effectively! I had to ask her to be a bit more gentle. Next came Laura, who also had a ferocious push, but she added an additional manoeuvre, putting a folded sheet on one side of my rib cage and then beating a staccato on the sheet with repeated karate chops! Others vibrated my rib cage with both hands. The varying ferocity of these attacks persuaded me to start a Physiotherapist Brutality Index. But when I started warning them about it, most actually wanted to be at the top of the table! Despite this, they were all lovely people. They did, however, share one peculiarity: excitement when I managed to bring up a large mouthful of phlegm!
My stay in hospital cleared up the lung infections, but two weeks lying in bed had a negative impact on my physical strength and mobility. Some of the things I could do before I really struggle with now. I am still almost entirely dependent on the ventilator 24/7. In August, I managed to recover my independent breathing capability back to where it had been, going all morning without the ventilator. This time, I have only reached 20 minutes, but I am hopeful that a further improvement. On the positive side, two weeks with my feet up reduced the swelling in them back to normal.
As April came to a close, we had another anniversary, Doreen’s birthday on the 28th. Not a ‘big’ birthday but she still received quite a lot of cards and a few parcels by post/courier. Instead of a letterbox in our front door, we have an external mailbox which we check daily. Late morning on the 29th, we found in there a pre-printed note from courier DPD saying our parcel had been left safe in our porch. That was curious as we don’t have a porch! Anything left by the front door would be in plain sight of passers-by, only about 10 feet away – hardly very safe! I tried contacting DPD but their customer service system is totally impenetrable without a consignment number or the originating email address. We had neither. Presumably, whoever sent the parcel has been told it was delivered, and is probably disappointed that we haven’t acknowledged receipt or said ‘thank you’. Not a happy state of affairs. Be warned!!