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Sunday, December 6
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Recently I've been sick. Down with asthma - 3 times in a month between November and December.
I had truly quit smoking since the first attack in late November, probably because of the office's environment which is full of fur and is not conducive for asthmatics if they stay in that office for too long. In such a small confined space, it is easy for people with allergies to act up. A few of my friends who have been to the office have ended up with blocked noses or asthma attacks too.
Surprisingly with the quitting of smoking, the asthma attacks increased, and the last one (which admitted me into hospital) also included hyperventilation.
However, the myth that quitting smoking increases your body weight is untrue.
Anyhow, my last trip to the A&E department of Tan Tock Seng was definitely a clear yet hazy one. Don't know how was that possible, but it is. I was like in semi-conscious yet fully conscious state.
I was recuperating from my 2nd attack, which had happened just the day before the 3rd one, and that night I was going over to The Boyfriend's house to eat some freshly caught fish his father had caught in the South China Sea on one of his fishing trips.
However, I didn't make it to his house because halfway through, I suddenly could not breathe but it was not like a normal asthma attack where my chest totally tightens and my lungs become painful with each breath I take.
Instead, I was rapidly taking in short breaths and my fists were tightly clenched into a ball. I could vaguely feel my nails digging into my palm but yet everything felt numb. My toes and legs were also numbing up and even my face felt like there were streaks of blood running all over it with that infamous prickly sensation one gets when a body part numbs up.
I could not walk nor stand properly, and The Boyfriend had to put me back into the car and get his parents to send us to the hospital as I was wailing like a baby and trying to breathe.
Upon reaching the hospital, I was put immediately into a wheelchair and wheeled to the nebulizer, which I am so familiar with since childhood. My whole body was trembling and I felt dizzy yet awake.
After the nebulizer, a pretty doctor wheeled me to a room to have my heart checked. I think she suspected I was having a heart attack as well because even after the nebulizer, asthmatic patients are supposed to be calm and breathing properly, but I was not. I was still taking in gasps of air and trembling like a leaf.
The embarrassing part is: I could not even unclench my fists to lift up my blouse and bra for her to stick these stickers on to check my heart on a large machine.
And she had to do it. Not that I could care very much, because I was quite partially invalid.
She said my heart was ok, to which I had no specific feelings of joy or relief. I remember staring blankly into space and feeling terribly cold.
After that, she put me on an oxygen tank for about an hour, inserting two tubes that carried the oxygen into my nostrils, although I was breathing through my mouth. I sat staring ahead, vaguely aware of an old man lying on a hospital bed next to me.
I watched as an old woman was wheeled on a bed into the room where I was sitting, and stared at her as she went into the makeshift toilet. When she came out, she did not know how to use the sink (which was makeshift and had to use the foot to pump water out of the tap) and her nurse had gone away because the old woman had taken a very long time in the toilet.
The old woman looked at me but I could not open my mouth to speak to her because everything was still numb and I felt like I could not even speak a common language with her. Mostly, I did not want to say anything or have any contact with anyone.
I never felt more alone, and remember thinking, "This place only has old people. I barely see anybody my age. Maybe this is what it is like to die alone in sickness with no one beside you,"
The Boyfriend and his parents were not allowed into the room where I was. They had been waiting for over 2 hours already and somewhere in my still functioning heart I felt bad to have caused trouble for them.
At some point in time, The Boyfriend managed to ask for access to come and see me, but I couldnt look at him because I felt so drained of energy and my body still felt numb. But I think I spoke some cohesive words to him and we had a conversation before he was chased out by a security guard.
My own parents did not come because The Boyfriend told them not to come as everything was under control. Besides, I did not want both sets of parents meeting each other in such dire straits.
I felt much better after an hour on the oxygen tank, and slowly my fists began to unclench. I saw the reddish marks of my nails clawing into the skin on my palm. This was not the first time I had hyperventilated. When I was 14, I had hyperventilated into a state of unconsciousness not unsimilar to the one I was in.
A senior doctor came and chatted to me about my condition and recent attacks. He said i had hyperventilated as well and asked if I wanted to be discharged to which I agreed to immediately as I couldn't stand the cold and lonely hospital any longer. He put me on a higher dosage of steroids compared to the ones my GP had prescribed.
I was wheeled out of the cold room into The Boyfriend's waiting arms.
the angels they burn inside for us|4:44:00 AM|
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