Back Yet Again, Here is where I been all this time.

Basically the answer to the question in the thread title is "back in the Harry Secombe ward" (if they gave air miles to loyal customers I'd have enough to circumnavigate the world). You may remember, from my original introduction, that when I got out of hospital about three years ago, I had been robbed by a neighbour, which sent me into depression. Well, that happened again, although a different neighbour this time (the first one did a runner when he realised both the landlord and me were about to be told who robbed me), but same result. I spend weeks just sitting doing nothing. Then, when I finally pulled myself together, this damn site refused to let me in. That "Login" box on top of the forums page simply went to "an error has occurred -your session has timed out" message. I gave up. Just tried again today, it still does not work, but I noticed a link to a dedicated login page. That worked, so here I am.

For those wondering what I was in for this time, it is a longish story: I was bitten by a rat, rushed off to A&E at Mayday Hospital. They gave a shot and two drips (tetanus and two antibiotics) then sent me home with a course of oral antibiotics. A few days later I was getting very tired and got diarrhoea. I put this down to the antibiotics killing the flora in my gut, so did not worry. I then started vomiting, but by then the tiredness had got extreme and I was just waking up to poop and vomit, sleeping the rest of the time, and my brain was not really working on all cylinders. So I still put this down to a "mild" problem caused by the antibiotic. Then late one night I looked at the vomit. I was not vomiting the usual stuff, I was vomiting blood, and lots of it. My somewhat befuddled brain thought "That can't be good", then I put down the bowl and went back to sleep. In the morning the only intelligent thought of the week crossed my somewhat compromised brain. I'd better check my poop for blood. It was dark black, which is a sign that either you have eaten too much black pudding (or any other high iron food) or that you were bleeding internally. As I had not eaten anything for days, I guessed the latter.

But I still blamed the antibiotics, I stopped taking them and decided to ask to see a doctor when at dialysis (waiting was not the mistake it appears to be, I dialyse at a different hospital, NOT Mayday, and that hospital has more competent doctors and nurses). When I got to dialysis It was obvious to the nurse that I was very ill, because I did not do my usual pre-dialysis preparation but asked her to do it (which is so out of character for me, I want everything in just the right place, the chair at just the right angle, etc. so I don't ever let anyone else do it usually). The fact that I smelt like someone who had pooped their pants on the way to the the hospital was probably a clue too (the reason for the smell was that I had pooped my pants in the ambulance, but was too exhausted on arrival to clean up, and my brain was too clouded to realise that this might be a problem). She called a doctor immediately after putting me on the machine, then got a HCA to change my clothes (not just my pant but my shirt too, because at some point, without realising it, I had vomited blood down my front). the doctor took a blood test and as soon as the dialysis was over had me wheeled to one of the isolation units in Harry Secombe Ward (apparently the blood test said I was an infection risk to the other patients).

At least I was properly dressed for hospital, the HCA who had changed me had put me in hospital pyjamas, it was all they had (I don't take a change of clothes to dialysis, because I don't make a habit of pooping myself and vomiting down my front).

I was in there for weeks and weeks and weeks. They kept trying different antibiotics intravenously. For most of the time I was having three different antibiotics four times a day. After I came out my nephroligist told me that when he looked at my file I had the highest virus markers he had ever seen in his career (and he is not a young doctor). I am not sure if I should be proud of that or scared.

At first my urine had stopped totally, and I assumed that the virus had killed all that was left in my kidneys. But after a few days, I started urinating again, and the amount of urine I was passing was about the same as before dialysis. so I thought "whoopee - the virus has jumped started my kidneys". Then I looked in the bottle. My bladder had grown jealous of the other orifices and decided to join the party. I was pissing blood.

I was in hospital for weeks and weeks, and made a sizeable hole in the NHS's store of antibiotics. But the one good thing was that I did not panic and go to Mayday's A&E, if I had done that I would have been treated in Mayday, and you would probably not been reading this post from me, you would have been more likely reading a post from my sister informing you of my sad demise.

But I went to St Hellier Hospital instead (not on the island of St Hellier, in the English town with the same name). So now I'm back here, and ready to post.

Everyone beware!