Why aren't you dead?

Some of you, reading this blog, will know how lucky I am to be here today. Others would be surprised.

Just 4 weeks ago, I was hanging on to life. At the time, I had no idea. I accepted I was seriously ill, but was pretty much in denial.

I had a post op appointment with my GP today. She has just received a report from the surgeon at St John of God Hospital in Bunbury. She has been my doctor for some 15 years now, and we have a great relationship.

Her face went white, her jaw dropped, she looked at me in shock and said, "Why are you still alive?!?"

It's a very confronting question, and one that has been asked over and over since January 16.

What happened?

Well, I can trace things back to the Green Day concert, at the start of December. I was supposed to attend a friend's wedding, the following day, but I suddenly felt unwell. I could not pinpoint what was wrong, but I was lethargic and felt 'out of sorts'. I slept a lot that weekend.

I eventually had cold-like symptoms, and shrugged things off as just some kind of viral infection, I would no doubt get over. School holidays had started, so I didn't have much to do, other than look after my son.

My persistent cough began to annoy others, as we got closer to Christmas, so I buckled and saw a doctor, at a GP After Hours Clinic. He wasn't very thorough, and just handed me a prescription for antibiotics, confessing he wasn't really sure why I had a fever, perhaps I had pneumonia, but these pills would fix it.

Christmas Day. I hardly remember Christmas Day. I was unable to eat and felt like I was in another world. I had no energy, felt miserable, but tried to hold things together for friends and family. I didn't want to ruin anybody's day, so soldiered on.

My husband suggested I should go to the hospital to get looked at, but I was stubborn and put on a brave face.

My health bounced around for the rest of the week. Then, on New Years Eve, I admitted there was no way I was able to go out, and spent the night in with some close friends, something I had never done before.

The antibiotics started to work, and I felt a little bit better, but the annoying cough continued..

We had arranged a camping trip, several months ago, with some friends, for early January. We were to spend 10 nights in Busselton, and we were all very excited. We had purchased a new towable for the boat, new items to make our camping experience more comfortable, and had even booked an on site refrigerator! we would be living like kings in the bush!!!

The first few nights at Busselton, I was incredibly sleepy. I always find it difficult to sleep on air mattresses, but I found I was falling asleep early, and unable to get up. Who can sleep for long hours on those things?!? I felt unsociable, retiring early each night, but I could not stay awake.

I began to retreat, emotionally, from friends and family. I was being asked, "Are you ok??", but I had no answer. I felt distant, perhaps even depressed, but I didn't feel like "me".

One evening, as the sun was going down, I started to experience stomach cramps. Initially, you wonder what you have eaten. The pain became more and more intense, as the night went on, until I could no longer tolerate it.

I agreed to let my husband take me to the Busselton Hospital. I kept thinking, "They aren't going to find anything wrong with me and I'm going to look like an idiot".

The Busselton Hospital operates as a GP After Hours facility. I was taken in to the emergency department, and was attended to by the doctor on duty. He couldn't work out what was wrong, and said I would need an ultrasound, but that wouldn't be available until the next morning, so I would have to go home and come back. He apologised for their lack of resources, and sent me off with some pain killers.

The pain killers worked a treat, and I felt pretty good the next morning. I arrogantly decided I wasn't having an ultrasound in a country town. I couldn't see any point either, as the pain had passed.

I was wrong! midnight, I am in the tent, and the pain was so intense, I couldn't walk, I couldn't breathe, even though I had taken the painkillers. I now knew I was in trouble!

With my tail between my legs, I limped in to the Busselton Hospital, knowing I would have to face the duty doctor and explain why I hadn't gone for the ultrasound. He was surprisingly caring, and explained he suspected it was my appendicts and we had to act quickly..he wanted me to be transferred to Bunbury.

My heart sunk. I really just wanted to go home. I asked him to release me, but he said, "I can't release you, because you are in serious trouble. I can't risk sending you to Perth, because I don't think you will make it that far." I was terrified!

I endured a very bumpy ride to Bunbury, accompanied by some lovely local volunteers. I was still oblivious to how my life was in the balance.

I was subjected to a barrage of blood tests and ultrasounds. I was now on morpheine, so the pain was under control, but I really did not want to be there. I hate hospitals!

The surgeon was unable to diagnose what was going on, but he suspected appendicitus, and felt I needed to be operated on immediately. I'd be having a laporoscopy, sometimes known as 'key-hole' surgery, and would be left with a small scar. It would all be over in about 15 minutes.

I remember waking from surgery, completely traumatised. I was screaming and so overcome by pain. I can remember the nurses trying to calm me, and told me they would make me comfortable as soon as possible. I looked down at my tummy and could see there was far more surgery than 'key hole'...there was a stretch of tape from above my belly button, all the way down.

My husband and son came in to see me. They still weren't sure what had happened, but they said I had been away for at least 3 hours!!!

The surgeon finally came in to see me. He looked at me and shook his head and said, "I don't know why you are still alive". He went on to explain that, on opening me up, he encountered so much fluid and pus, he wouldn't work out which of my organs were infected. He told me I had peritonitis.

I had heard of the term before, but had no idea what it really was, and was hanging out to google it, like any person would these days.

I switched off. It all sounded too scary. I think I absorbed "fluid", "infection" and "your abdomen was a mess".

My husband later filled me in with the details about my bowel, my uterus, my fallopian tubes, my ovaries AND my appendicts.

I was very sore from the surgery. I began to feel homesick and isolated. Friends came down to Bunbury to take my son for the period I was there. I missed him, but felt relieved he was in good care. My husband spent the two weeks with me, in or around the hospital.

My recovery has been much better than I was told and expected. I now know the difference between feeling unwell and well, as my energy levels increase more and more each day.

I look back and can't believe it happened. The journey was an interesting one though. I bonded with friends, reconnected with my brother and have heard from people I haven't heard from in ages!

I don't know why I'm not dead, but I am so happy to be alive!