I continue to lay in my bed at the Rehabilitation Center feeling terribly sick.
With the staff thinking I was just trying to avoid having my challenging therapy sessions.
My scalp itched terribly. I still couldn’t scratch it myself. It was torture on top of illness.
I was scheduled for transport to the hospital that Monday morning. I was going for a swallow test. I was excited about that because I hadn’t been able to eat or drink since the day I was burned and it was now five months later. This was IMPORTANT. I wanted a bottled water more than anything in the world!
Monday morning came and I felt terrible. Really low in energy. My nurse came in, administered medicine and got me dressed.
I had been wearing a hospital gown for so long that anytime I had to wear the sweatpants my husband had gotten me, the skin on my legs (donor sites) would burn and hurt.
They were checking my vitals when the medical transport arrived. My oxygen level was low, my fever was high and my body was just broken. I was crying. The nurse was telling me that I needed to collect myself so that I could go to my swallow test.
The ambulance driver was waiting at the door witnessing this situation. The young man said “It sounds like she needs to go to the E.R., not her swallow test. She’s not medically stable.
The Nurse then called in the Charge Nurse who told me that I needed to tell the young man driving the ambulance that I was feeling fine and ready to go!
“You want to eat and drink, right?”.
I obliged and told him exactly that. I needed to get out of there.
He and his partner wheeled me out on the stretcher. Now I’m in the back of the ambulance.
“I’m so sick I feel like I’m dying.”
“Am I going to the swallow test?“
“No, you’re going straight to the emergency room. We think you’re very sick.“