Invaded

Invaded is probably the best way I have of describing the feeling I have towards the saddle embolism I had.It's 7 weeks since I was rushed into hospital with breathing difficulties. The paramedic did a heart trace which was normal, my oxygen level was low at 82% so thought I better go to hospital. I have alveolitis and had stupidly been looking after a friends parrot. We all thought this was causing my breathlessness. I spent a night and day in Leicester Royal Infirmary, they did a ct scan at about 8.30pm and at just after 9pm a dr came and told me there was a clot on my lung. I remember just feeling so tired and asked how would they get rid of it, he said by injecting heparin into my tummy to thin the blood and let the body dissolve the clot. I was duly jabbed and thought I could finally get some sleep.  About an hour later he came back and said they were going to transfer me to Glenfield as they were a specialist respiratory hospital. I was none too pleased and almost begged them to let me sleep and to go in the morning. He went off to speak to his boss who insisted I was taken asap. I got to Glenfield about 2am and they agreed with the treatment but then did an echogram of my heart. This showed the right side was very enlarged and under immense strain, they then told me the clot was almost blocking the blood supply to both lungs and I was at risk of a fatal heart attack and if the clot dislodged it would be fatal too. I was given the option of still having the heparin treatment but they didn't think time was on my side and offered to thrombolyse me. I was warned this carried a risk of death by bleeding into the brain, 1 in 100 will die from the treatment but it was my best option. They phoned my husband and also my parents who all came to the hospital. The treatment was given via iv and my family stayed with me until about 7am. All through this the only pain I'd had was behind my right breast and this pain went when I lay flat. It's scary to think this huge killer was inside me and yet hardly hurting me. I stayed in the hospital for 11 days, I thought coming home would be the end of it but it's just the start. I am so very grateful to be alive and I know how lucky I am so why don't i always feel it? Sometimes I cry because I'm so scared and think maybe it would have been easier to die then than to keep wondering if another silent killer will grow inside me. I don't have answers to why I got the clot, I must have missed the dvt which is probably came from, how could I miss such a vital thing? I'm on warfarin and paranoid about INR levels, I hate living like this being so afraid and I try to fight it. It's not a depression but at times it does take over, not a day goes past that I don't think about what happened and often want to talk about it. My family seem to think I should be over it and back to normal by now. I'm on my 2nd chest infection since boxing day and my gp said my lungs will obviously have been damaged but we don't know how much by. After 6 months I'll be having more tests done to see if I have a clotting disorder, I hope I do because then at least I'll have a reason. This time of night is worse for thinking about it, I trawl the net for information and scare myself silly with it. I know I'm a survivor, I'm just so tired, I suppose it's normal to feel shattered after the body has to deal with such a trauma but every little twinge I'm on red alert. I'm not doing a "woe is me" routine, this is the first place I've really allowed myself to feel sorry for myself. My friends and family don't want to see this insecure and scared woman, I was told today that I should force myself to get out and do things. That hurt and made me feel angry, I had to have the gp come to me because the chest infection had floored me but my parents only see me now I'm on antibiotics and steroids so think I was really able to go to the dr's surgery. Ah well maybe I'll be more positive later, until next time... stay well and be happy xx