I wasn’t anticipating quite as much interest in my tits but I’m very happy to continue milking them (ahem) for as long as I can, it’s not often that you Nearly Die after all, not that I like to talk about it much as you know. I’ve had quite a few private messages and texts from you asking questions about what happened and why, so I’ll attempt to answer those here now before I carry on with the story of how I Nearly Died.
A number of you have asked how I came to develop Necrotising Fasciitis in the first place and it’s a good question. I’ve had long chats about this with Andrew, my own personal consultant microbiologist (I will NEVER get bored of writing that) and there were a couple of things going on, but it basically boiled down to the fact that I was a very vulnerable host and very, very unlucky.
I exclusively breast fed and bed shared with the twins for the seven months since they were born which meant that I was just not getting any rest at all. There was no respite from the constant feeding and the sleepless nights and I wasn’t really looking after myself very well. I was very overweight (I’d put on about three stone with the twin pregnancy) and I was exhausted all of the time. Looking back now it seems obvious that I was getting quite run down but at the time I just put this down to having three kids under three and a love of pizza. I felt tired but not ill and so I just got on with it.
I then caught a summer cold which I found out later carried a strain of the streptococci bacteria. Ordinarily the presence of the bacteria in my nose and throat wouldn’t have caused any issues because it is usually harmless, and had I not then gone on to contract mastitis I probably would have been none the wiser. However, I DID contract mastitis and the infection from this, combined with the presence of the streptococci bacteria set off an aggressive chain reaction that my weakened immune system was just not able to fight. Within hours the original infection had mutated into a life threatening form of sepsis (Necrotising Fasciitis) and my body started to systematically destroy itself. (I’ve always been a bit of a drama queen).
Necrotising Fasciitis is incredibly rare and the chances of developing it in the way that I did is I think, about a billion to one. You certainly can’t blame what happened to me on breastfeeding, the mastitis may have been responsible for the original infection but the rapid spread of the sepsis was completely unexpected and certainly wasn’t related to breastfeeding in any way. It’s not something that is ever likely to happen to you and even doctors and nurseys who have spent their whole careers in hospitals have not usually witnessed it first hand, hence my celebrity status on the ward. Lots and lots of medics and nurseys came to find me just out of professional interest (and to gawp at my tits of course).
Another question that I’ve been asked is who do I want to play me in the film of my life?- The obvious choice would be Daniel Day Lewis of course, but as he doesn’t have any tits, I think P!nk is probably a more suitable choice. We’re in negotiations. I’m hoping that Trent Reznor will do the soundtrack.
The question that has cropped up the most though is without doubt- how am I and my family now? And how did we all cope when I Nearly Died? (Do you know that I Nearly Died?) And the honest answer to that is- Fine! We’re now all absolutely fine. Thanks for asking. And we’re very grateful to the NHS. And we’ve now got a healthy dose of perspective in our lives.
Thug ’n’ Grump took a couple of days to adjust to not having me around and then they just forgot about me and got on with destroying my mum’s life. Turns out babies are complete bastards and have no sense of loyalty at all (or maybe that’s just mine?). The Baldy Rats took to formula and to sleeping in separate cots pretty much straight away and because other people were able to feed them, Porl, my mum, my dad, my sister and even my nephews were able to take turns looking after them which meant that everything suddenly became a little bit easier (despite the fact that I was doing the death rattle in the background). Frog went to live with Porl’s mum and dad in Croydon and got spoiled rotten, in fact I think he quite enjoyed having a break from the Baldy Rats (as did I).
Ok, so now we’ve got all the questions out of the way I can pick up the story where I left off last week. I hope you’re all still with me and haven’t bored off yet.
The end of the last blog left me in the intensive care ward having had a number of major life saving operations to remove the necrotising fat and tissue from my left breast.
My condition was still critical even after having had all the operations and the blood transfusions, and so I stayed in the intensive care ward which meant that I had one-to-one nurseying and was monitored around the clock. My obs were taken every two hours, even through the night, and I was hooked up to a lot of different machines. Visitors were strictly limited to NOK only and people still had to wear full gowns and cover their noses and mouths when they approached me to stop them from breathing in my blackened tit fumes.
I should have mentioned in the first blog post that it wasn’t just my boobs that everyone was worried about either- I was also in very real danger of organ failure and my kidneys in particular were monitored very carefully. I was on a LOT of drugs to try to stop my kidneys from packing up. My body had turned toxic and my kidneys and liver were close to shutting down. This is why I had to have two blood tests every day to monitor my red and white cell counts and I was assigned my own personal microbiologist who I don’t think I’ve mentioned yet.
In addition to my own personal microbiologist who I never mention, I also had a proper clever dick entourage made up of breast consultants, plastic surgeons, registrars, anaesthetists, an infectious dressings specialist, theatre technicians, phlebotomists, nurseys and doctors. There was also usually a medical strudel or two flaking around and taking notes. My left tit had a bigger entourage than J Lo- and a proper clever dick one at that.
I was pretty much out of it all the time I was in intensive care. I couldn’t really talk and I couldn’t get out of bed or move at all. I had to use a bed pan and was hooked up to three or four different drips with a mixture of meds and antibiotics. I also had to take drugs orally every four hours and so I kept being woken up throughout the night. I remember my alarms going off a couple of times during this period and there being a lot of a panic but I don’t remember much else about my time in intensive care really. I was too busy concentrating on Nearly Dying to keep tabs on the riff raff.
After having had four operations whilst in intensive care, and two blood transfusions, I slowly started to get better and was eventually moved back onto the normal breast ward where I was given my old private room back. It was brilliant- it felt like a proper homecoming- all the nurseys, tea ladies, cleaners and support staff remembered me from when I had first been admitted and I was made to feel like the prodigal daughter.
I had doctors popping in at the end of their shifts to say ’hi’ and marvel at my miraculous recovery and nothing was too much trouble for anyone. My nursey friends kept checking in on me and I was even allowed luxury hot chocolate at 3am one morning which one of my nursey friends made for me out of her own supplies. It was lush. I also got a lot of cuddles. Nurseys are just the best at giving cuddles and because the risk of infection had now gone I was allowed cards and pictures of the kids in my room which made me feel a whole lot happier.
I was soon feeling tons better and was finally allowed visitors other than mum and Porl so Psycho Stink, Fake Friend, Pug Mum, Frog, Rellies, Mrs Books and other assorted dullards and randoms came visiting and I started to cheer up a bit. I missed the kids but for the first time in about a year (the twin pregnancy had been pretty tough too) I was able to rest up, eat properly and not have to worry about looking after anyone else. It was also the time that the Olympics were on telly which was great cos I wasn’t able to concentrate enough to read anything so I got really into the Olympics (just watching though- I was still too sick to actually take part).
I still had a huge open wound to my left breast and had lost my nipple so I was in a lot of pain and hooked up to a morphine driver which meant that I felt very spaced out and nauseous. I was also still on the endangered list and being closely monitored by my entourage but at this point everyone agreed that I probably wasn’t going to die any more so the focus of my care shifted from keeping me alive to getting me well enough to go home.
In my next blog post I’ll tell you all about what happened when I left hospital care and about the first stage of my recovery.