Silent But Deadly

I was not writing, so I could live more so I could have something to write about, rather than just about my past. Don't get me wrong, I think my past is fascinating...but, I was feeling tied to it in the now. Sometimes I would rather live life, rather than just write about it.
I started to notice a few minor aches and pains in the last few months. Being a retired nurse and someone who was able to ignore even the most obvious symptoms, I did what I was good at and ignored all of the tiny, infinitesimal signs that I might be ill. I had a rather annoying pain in my chest. It was on the right side and I only felt it occasionally. "No big deal", I thought. It would hurt more if it were really something to worry about. I had a nagging cough, but it only happened at night and only woke me up a few times a week, so I didn't think too much about it. If it were truly important, it would wake me up all the time. I had noticed the taste of blood in my mouth. I became obsessive about my gums. I must be grinding my teeth, due to the increased stress of all that is happening in our household. I noticed I only tasted it at night, so it must be me grinding my teeth into dust.
I personally hate the sight of blood, especially my own. If I saw your blood, I would not get so nearly worked up over it, because I would look at you like a science experiment I needed to figure out. What color is the blood, what is the consistency, what are the predisposing conditions, are you on aspirin or blood thinner therapy. I would start doing the calculations of what the blood meant and where it was coming from. I tend to ignore me, my bleeding, little pains that seem temporary, so if I were to say bleed copious amounts, I would be more than a little concerned.
You see, I am an asshole about my health. I had major surgery where they ripped out my ovaries and a large tumor and I went back to work in 2 weeks. I don't get sick. If I do get sick, I don't stay sick. If I stay sick I sure as hell don't acknowledge it. I am an arrogant ass, when it comes to my body. I have no respect for the near death experiences I have had, when it comes to what it should mean to me. I am grateful for still being here, but I am human so I am by sheer nature arrogant, and I am forgetful. So here I was ignoring signs that something was wrong...until my body got sick and tired of waiting for me to take care of it and did something drastic.
My first blog back into my world of writing was going to be all about how I got a new job, got cast in a play and all the hearts flowers, rainbows and kittens I was feeling while continuing to prepare for my beloved's departure to the other side of the country. I was going to take this weekend and talk about being an American, 9/11 and the fact it has been 29 years since I met my beloved. 29 years this very day. I was going to write about what I did on my summer vacation so to speak. But then something terrible happened that freaked my sorry ass so bad, I lost all of my words.
Last Wednesday night, my nagging cough came back and decided to become stronger, show me who was boss so I might pay attention. I ignored it until I saw the spray of blood in my hands. I coughed again and this time blood gushed out of my throat and mouth. I ran to the kitchen sink and started spitting as fast as I could to rid my mouth of the vile tasting thick bright red liquid. I got water and rinsed my mouth out. The cough and the bleeding stopped. Being an asshole and a retired nurse, I didn't panic, I assumed I had broken a blood vessel from coughing so hard. I told Mike I was going into work in the morning and if it happened again I would seek medical attention. I coughed with white paper towels up to my mouth so I could see if any more blood was there. It was not, so I went back to work and tried to forget about how gross it was and how very much it reminded me of Nicole Kidman in Moulin Rouge.
Thursday came and went and I was sitting on the couch when I began to cough, this time I could not catch my breath, this time the blood just kept coming, I could not contain it in a towel or my hands and I bolted for the sink. I kept trying to clear my own airway as the blood just kept coming. I thought about how Mike would find me dead on the floor from aspirating my own blood if I didn't do something. I rinsed and gagged and spit. More blood gushed up after cough. I heard a hoarse wheeze escape from own mouth. I just kept thinking I would be so pissed if I died before I got to do some things I had waited for my kids to be grown to do. The coughing slowed and bleeding slowed as well. I told Mike I needed to go the hospital, and off we went to find out if I was dying or if I just had the most dramatic common cold ever seen by humans.
The hospital was full at 11:30 PM with the usual suspects, elderly people who fell, a few drug addicts, small children, coughing and whining and me, Shecky, the joking blood bath. I will cut to the chase since I found the hospital part boring I can assure you, you would too. The bottom line was a chest x-ray and some blood work. The doc told me if they saw anything I would have to do a contrast CAT scan. In walked the CAT scan guy so I assumed they saw something. I was less than thrilled and decided to ask the Big Guy one more time if He could see clear to giving me another shot. The diagnosis was bacterial pneumonia. I am on meds and bed rest sitting up, which is the most uncomfortable short of standing to sleep.
I have tried desperately not to cough. I don't want to see what I saw Thursday. It was like a bad "B" horror movie and I felt completely freaked out about it. I have coughed some, and yes the bad blood remains between me and my lungs, though it is considerably less and waning.
Here's the lesson, the symptoms prior to my hemorrhage were nothing to speak of. While I freely admit to being an asshole about most of my health, I take my lungs pretty seriously. Should I have gone to the doc the first time I coughed? Maybe, but I am sure I would have been encouraged to take over the counter meds first, which I had done anyway. I probably should have gone to see someone the first time I saw blood. That was not my best move, however, I did go the second time without hesitation just like I said I would, so I see that as real improvement.
I am not currently out of the woods, just yet. I still have to monitor what my body is doing and if it remotely looks like I am getting worse I have to go back in immediately. So far I am no worse. The weird thing was other than being tired, a little pale and irritable, I had remarkably few symptoms, so I didn't really feel sick to begin with. That is how pneumonia rolls, more often than not you have no idea you are sick.
I am exhausted and I promised my family and myself I would do better at resting and being more careful with me, so this is it for now. I will write about what I did on my summer vacation, that was actually a new job, and how I met some Steep Canyon Rangers, and a guy who went to jail for capital murder on the same night. I will tell you about the single mom who is bravely going back to college on a wing and prayer. I will write about getting cast in a play in an incredible fluke after having not auditioned for anything in 30 years. There has been a lot that has happened. I will tell you about how stunned I was that my body keeps me alive even when I may not deserve it, and even though I talk smack about it all the time, my body does amazing, scary shit to keep me going. For now I will rest...so I can have the strength to tell all the new stories I have gained since I have been gone.