I felt a bit tired — four days later I had to be admitted to hospital
JUST get better or die — that was the thought flashing through my mind as I lay in bed battling pneumonia, although I didn’t know then that this was what I had. I was just aware it was the most unwell I’ve felt in my life.
I rarely cry, but I’ve never before experienced such awful pain. Just a few days earlier, I’d been having supper at a colleague’s house one evening and looking forward to Christmas.
We were eating a pasta dish when I was suddenly overwhelmed by extreme fatigue — I’ve always had a healthy appetite, but I could only manage a couple of forkfuls.
Minutes later, I had to leave. I just didn’t have the energy to stay.
A week earlier, I’d had flu-like symptoms, which put me in bed for three days, but I’d rested after that and, aside from a lingering cough, thought I’d fully recovered.
I assumed the tiredness that evening was unrelated and thought an early night would fix it. But just a couple of hours later, I woke up drenched in sweat.
The next morning, I felt dreadfully nauseous. Every part of my body ached and I had a sharp, stabbing sensation in my right lung, which made it impossible to move my right arm. Whenever I breathed or coughed, I was in agony.
MY BOSS told me to stay at home, and my dad checked in on me that night. We both assumed it was a bug, and he left a couple of hours later.
But the next 24 hours were horrendous. I began vomiting, coughing up phlegm and my temperature climbed to 38.7c.
I became delirious and woke up thinking there were people in the bed with me and that I couldn’t move because I’d wake them all up.
I tried ibuprofen and flu remedies, but whenever they wore off, I’d experience violent shaking and extreme chills. I couldn’t eat a thing and existed on herbal tea and fruit juice.
Deep down, I knew something was seriously wrong: I’d never felt so ill in my life and was crying — something I never do.
At which point, I looked online to check my symptoms. I was supposed to be meeting a friend and texted to say I thought I had pneumonia. I also mentioned it to my mum. Both told me to stop overreacting.
By now, my symptoms had been going on for four days.
Luckily, I had an appointment booked with my GP for something else the next morning.
She diagnosed a chest infection and I was prescribed antibiotics and told to go straight to hospital if my temperature — then 39.8c — rose further.
Hours later, it hit 40.4c. My mum drove me to A&E at St Mary’s Hospital, London, where an X-ray revealed a cloudy shadow over my right lung. The hospital confirmed I had a chest infection, but also pneumonia — caused by a bacterial infection. I was told the flu I’d had could have weakened my immune system, making me more susceptible. I was severely dehydrated and was admitted to hospital for three days and put on intravenous antibiotics. I spent a night in the Acute Care Unit, before being moved to a ward. Within 12 hours of the antibiotics, I felt much better. I realised I was lucky my pneumonia was spotted when it was; it could have turned really dangerous. When the doctor had told me I had pneumonia, I was scared, but happy to hear I hadn’t been overreacting — I had known something was wrong. Now, I will trust my instincts. Looking back, I was in so much pain. I didn’t even have the energy to watch Netflix!