Sorry for the delay, I was experiencing some technical difficulties. Namely, my Internet was out but once it came back the site was down. So here’s the second installment.
This is the continuation of the story about how I got where I am. It started here.
A couple of weeks before graduation I became ill. I went to the infirmary on campus and was told I had an upper respiratory infection and given antibiotics. I took my medicine and went about my business working and preparing for finals. A few days after finishing my medication I began feeling bad again. I went back to the infirmary and was told that I now had bronchitis and was given more medication. I went on to finish my medication and graduate college.
A week or so after finishing this batch of antibiotics I was still feeling terrible. By this time the infirmary was closed and I could no longer use it because I was a graduate, not a student. I went to the ER since I didn't have a a regular doctor in the area. I was told that I had a viral infection and given antibiotics. Because I had been so sick he gave me a Z-pack so that it would begin working more quickly. Like before I tried to go back to working but was just too sick.
A week later, I was worse than before. I had finished all of my medication but was not any better. I had no energy and had not had much of an appetite. I had begun to have trouble breathing and became winded walking the short distance across our apartment. Exactly a week after my ER visit I woke up and made my way to the couch to watch a little TV. The hubby got up and while I was watching television I began to black out. I yelled for the hubby and had him bring me juice. My assumption was that since I had not been eating much my blood sugar was just too low. The juice tasted so good. I don't think juice has ever tasted so good in my life. I chugged the entire glass. I instantly regretted it and became ill. Once I felt better I had the hubby bring me more juice and slowly sipped on it.
I could see he was concerned but I'm stubborn and brushed it off. I told him I was fine and that the medicine hadn't started to fully work yet. I told him that I only got sick because I drank the juice too fast on an empty stomach. He didn't buy it and neither did my parents.
By this point my parents had gotten into the habit of calling daily to check in on me. They were concerned because they knew I wasn't getting better. They also knew I was stubborn. That day I couldn't even talk to them because I was too winded. The hubby talked to them and gave them the latest update. My mom was not happy. The hubby was informed that no matter what I said he was to take me to the emergency room. Even if it meant dragging me kicking and screaming he was under orders from my parents to take me that day as soon as possible. Of course, I didn't want to go. I wanted to sleep and wait until the next day. That call from my parents is probably the reason I'm alive. I'm not a doctor or medical expert at all but based on what followed I'm pretty sure I would not have woken up the next day without medical treatment.
To be continued.....