A young lady speaks up about her story of when she was threatened with an unexpected near death experience, that makes her view of life change for the better.
Based on a true story
(Short story)
"Okay and we have arrived" says the ambulance guy trying to sound somewhat joyful.
Hospitals. Hospitals are a fear of mine. Who would of known? Iv spent so much time in and out of this place it's become a daily routine for me. The nurses and doctors will walk past me waving and smiling saying hi, most of them have looked after me growing up so it's lovely to see them. To them they are only being nice and want to make me feel comfortable, however, to me that resentful smile just screams horror, almost like it's shouting 'enjoy the ride' when being on a 420ft high rollercoaster.
The waiting room. The waiting room is a strange place, in fact the whole building is labelled a strange place. I'm sat in this pretty small room full with barely empty seats, babies squealing, an old frail lady whimpering. And there's me, in slow motion, being pulled through the corridors of one room to another. They sign me in to be taken for an emergency chest x-Ray, Iv never had one of these done before so I'm unaware of what to expect other than hopefully a clear result, right?
Wrong!
Just after one scan picture being taken they rush me off out the room and start to look around for other nurses. I'm sensing something is off but surely the good luck in me will...oh wait...okay a rather handsome looking doctor is walking up to me, tall, dark and handsome, that is every girls dream guy and he's standing right infront of me glaring into my tired eyes. "Hi Miss Williams how you feeling?", he sighs. In my head the devil tries to force the truth of what I'm feeling. Frightened. But I don't like to present myself in such a way that makes me feel worse, so I ignore the devil and nod my head to the doctor. "Im so sorry to tell you that you have a spontaneous pneumothorax and we need to insert a chest drain right now". I pretend to understand what they are talking about, but really that word 'pneumothorax' just sounds like the alphabet in a muddle. My mum quickly turns her head and stares at me for a minute, confused, then asks what the hell is going on.
"Your daughters lung has collapsed"
Right at that moment is when the train of tears began, and they didn't stop, not for a long time anyway. They immediately lay me on my side and ask me to raise my right arm over my head. I'm so scared. What's going to happen to me? Will it hurt? Why me? All these questions begin to circle in my head. Please force me out of this nightmare I'm having. Please!
The nurse left and came back with a trolly full with all types of 'death cutlery'. Just before they pick up the scalpel to pierce my skin, my mother's friend sprints into the room and appears from behind the curtain. She grabs my hand so I squeeze tight, tighter and tighter as I feel my skin being shredded. The feeling when they are forcing this pipe into my chest is indescribable, but like I'm being stabbed. I hear the nurses quietly telling one another that it's difficult for them to get the chest drain through my narrow ribs.
'BLACKOUT'
That was only me having a seizure or two whilst they were trying to locate the drain into my deflated lung. 10 minutes later and there's stitches being sewn into my skin, they tell me it helps to keep the chest drain in its place. Throughout that whole process it was meant to be done once they numbed me...they couldn't wait and it needed to be sorted as soon as they could. I'm kinda glad I blacked out half way through though, just so I didn't have to feel it all twice over!
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4:56pm
I glaze up at the ceiling in a daydream, mum says she was calling my name several times. "George, George, GEORGE", I click out of my daydream as she calls me one last time and look over to where she was standing. She was leaning over my hospital bed reminding me she has to leave because visiting times were over. I'm so high off the medications Iv been given that I just shake my head in response, not wanting her to leave yet, at least not until Iv fallen asleep. But the nurses disagree and all visitors have to leave.
Again I continue the train of tears, crying as I watch my mum walk out the room. I was lonely. Who was I meant to talk to, share my feelings with? The ward was full with elderly people and the only thing they done all day was sleep or call their emergency button every 5 minutes. I think I just needed to sleep as Iv had a crazy, long overwhelming day and I'm extremely tired. In the end I must of cried myself to sleep. Of what I can remember anyway...
