Two weeks in the ICU in January 2023. I was getting better. I was making improvements. So much so that they decided to move me up to the Hematology Ward to continue my recovery. Yay! I was pretty happy. I was moving in the right direction. I was still on airvo when they moved me, but that was okay. However, I got bored rather quickly. Now that I had a little more energy I was tired of sitting in a bed all day. I was still hooked up to an IV, but they were reducing my pain meds. I had to take a very specific type of medication for the fungal pneumonia. They said it would be a long hull with the meds. I started to make more progress. I could sit on the edge of the bed, then eventually I was able to walk to the end of the bed. Finally, I could walk to the bathroom in my room to pee ALL BY MYSELF! This was quite the accomplishment, so I was very pleased. This meant that I was getting better oxygen circulation. I had peace. The Lord was with me, and He was helping me to improve.
Still on airvo when I arrived on the Hematology Ward; I was able to transition back to the mask.
There were different rules on this floor. Family and friends were allowed to visit. I was quarantined off in my own room, and all visitors were supposed to gown and mask up to see me. Truth be told, most of them didn't! They were a little more lax up here. Even my kids were able to come visit. I was so happy to see them! I couldn't let them come too close for a hug though. I was still positive for covid, and did not want to spread it to them.
My dad came to visit every day. He didn't miss one day at the hospital. He kept me company and brought me lunch. He read me the bible and prayed over me. He rallied as many people as he could to pray for my healing. My doctors came in regularly to visit. I asked them when I'd be able to go home. I was desperate to be back with my children. They told me they would like if I was off the oxygen before I was discharged, and they thought it would be about a week or so. What joyous news! I called everyone to let them know it would be a short matter of time before I was back where I belonged.
My dad goofing around with a stethoscope during a visit
And then my husband came to visit me one day. He brought me some of my favourite snacks (sea salted chocolate to be exact!) It was nice to have a little treat. I enjoyed them while I watched Restaurant Impossible on my phone. There wasn't much else to do. That night after my husband had left I started not to feel very well. I felt an intense pain below my left shoulder blade and my breathing began to get more difficult. It was about one o'clock in the morning when I rang for my nurse. They had a whole team come in and brought the portable x-ray machine with them. I KNEW the results were not going to be good. I was right...
My left lung was collapsing. They urgently moved me back down to the ICU. There was no time to call my family to let them know. So there I was, back in the ICU for the second time. Still hooked up to an IV, now being dowsed with more pain medications than ever, and a surplus of other drugs. I was given a new catheter, and placed back on the forced air machine. It wasn't until the morning that my family was notified of the move.
I felt crushed in spirit. All that progress. All that hope. All that work. And my children felt further out of reach than ever. What was a girl to do? The only thing I could in this situation: Look to the Lord. Call upon Jesus. And that's exactly what I did.
Psalm 34:18
"The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit"
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