A Traditional Christmas
In keeping with tradition, my body has let me down at Christmas time. Last year it was my back. This year, I’m not entirely sure, but I’m beginning to suspect Whooping Cough/Pertussis. I’ve had a chest x-ray that has come back as normal, which indicates that it is not pneumonia. I am having the paroxysmal coughing, which is just so debilitating, but no whooping.
When the doctor opens next I’ll go back for a blood test. Unfortunately there is no cure but rest. On Monday I was sick and went home early but ended up doing some crazy Christmas shopping. That night my temperature went up to 39.9c, so A called the locum doctor out who prescribed some antibiotics and suggested I see my doctor as he suspected it was whooping cough. At that stage I was still of the impression that without the ‘whoop’, it wasn’t whooping cough. Now I know that’s not true.
That night my temperature peaked at 40.3c.
On Tuesday I stayed home – unfortunately it wasn’t very restful as both A and the children were also at home. This was also the day that was forecast to be 42c. I started off in my bedroom, but it got too hot so I moved to Willow’s bedroom which was cooler and fell asleep in her bed. I woke up to the sound of A changing Dexie’s nappy but I thought that I was still in my room and in my half asleep/half awake state started to get cross at him for coming down to our bedroom to change his nappy! I opened my eyes and shut my mouth.
Wednesday was supposed to be my last day at work for two weeks, so I dragged myself in for the morning. At least I didn’t have to take Dex to FDC, I left him at home with Willow and A. I answered emails, returned phone messages, went out to wish a client a Merry Christmas. While I waited for a phone call I went out to get some cold rolls for lunch – I’d barely eaten over the past two days. Finally the phone call I was waiting for came and I learnt some new information about a client. I had two clients to see on the way home.
This time of year is hard for a lot of people. Suicide rates increase and many carers find it all too difficult. Driving home I had the saying going through my head – No-one on their death bed wishes they’d spent more time at the office. My job isn’t just an office job though…
I finally got home and went up to see the doctor. Dexie objected to me leaving, which meant I felt terrible. I’ve been going to the same medical centre for as long as I’ve been living in the city, which is 13 years now, but I was seeing a new doctor. He didn’t really have any definitive answers for me, but suggested it could be pneumonia and gave me an x-ray referral as well as a pathology request for a sputum sample. He listened to my chest, peered down my throat and took my blood pressure which, incidentally was high. He suggested taking blood to test for whooping cough but I didn’t think it was worth it. In hindsight I wish I had.
Thursday was my normal day off work and the day before Christmas. My x-ray appointment was at 11am, so I dragged myself out of bed, dropped A and the children off at a shopping centre and went to have my x-ray. I was keen to know the results so I waited around – I’m sure that you aren’t really meant to but I read the report which said that my lungs were clear. So that was good to know. If I did have pneumonia, our plans for the next few days would have to change.
I bought A one of his presents before meeting up with him and the children. Then while he loaded the groceries into the car I bought another two presents with Willow’s help. On Wednesday I had been thinking about getting him some art classes – he is so hard to buy for – but the place I was looking at them had already closed.
So… on to Christmas Eve…
