DAY 2: A BLOWN VEIN, YOU SAY?

It was 6am. Still covered in sweat and unable to sleep, I decided to get up and try collecting my sputum in the 4 vials. 4 hours had passed since I last coughed out a monster lump of it. More than enough should have been built up by my body by now.

I went to the toilet and gave a loud hack, but no phlegm came out. I got a bit worried, but told myself not to panic. I tried again and again, but it was to no avail. I hacked, coughed and sputtered until my throat was sore. Not a single drop of phlegm. Just saliva. I ended up pouring the sputum from the tub into the vials. I only managed to fill 3. I rang the bell for the nurse. She said it was not enough and asked me to try again, with a somewhat sadistic smile to boot. I lay down and gave up.

The young male doctor from the other day came in again. He examined me and I told him of my sputum issues. He told me not to worry and that he would arrange for a physiotherapist to teach me how to cough up some good ol’ phlegm. I blinked twice. You needed a physiotherapist for that?

She came in a little later. A tall, angmoh lady with pretty blue eyes by the name of Anya. She taught me some breathing techniques. I showed her what I had in my vials and she seemed to approve.

“They don’t need a lot. Just a little. I usually tell the nurses to just take it.”

Anya left. A nurse came in shortly afterwards and took 3 of the vials. I was happy. Encouraged, I tried Anya’s breathing techniques and managed to spit out into the 4th one. I was overjoyed. I watched with glee as the nurse took my precious 4th vial away. My sputum ordeal was officially over. I was one step closer to finding out the real cause of my illness. “Suspected TB” bah!

Then, as if my first challenge was over, the next one followed shortly. The male nurse came in again and told me that I was to refrain from eating and drinking until 3pm, when a CT scan would be done on my chest area. So I drank one last sip of water before hunkering down with a magazine and waiting for 3pm to come.

3pm arrived and a nurse came to my room with a wheelchair. I was wheeled with my drip bag down to the scan area. Another nurse tested my catheter. She detached the drip and used a syringe to inject some saline solution into the device that would deliver the liquid into my bloodstream. The flow was a little slow. She made a note to “inject slowly”. My turn came and I was wheeled into the scanning room. The CT scan machine was this huge behemoth that took up most of the space in the room. There was a circular opening in the middle where my body was supposed to go through on a movable table for my innards to be scanned. Goodness knows what they would find. An alien, maybe?

I was told to lie down on the table and raise my hands over my head, which I promptly did. They then told me to close my eyes. The whirring sound in the background rose to a crescendo as the huge scanner revved up. I could feel myself being moved forward.

"Take a deep breath and hold it in," said a mechanical female voice. I realised that it was the CT scanner talking.

"Now breathe normally."

The above cycle was repeated once more before I felt someone move up just beside me. "I'm going to inject something to strengthen your kidneys..." Someone was fiddling with my catheter. "There might be a slight burning sensation..." What followed was rather more painful than a burning sensation. I cried out a soft ouch. I told the person how painful it was.

Another staff member came over to examine the area of skin around my catheter. It seemed to be swollen with liquid. The machine was powered down. Another male staff came forward. 3 of the scanner staff were now huddled around my outstretched arm. The nurse who has attended to me earlier and injected the saline solution came forward. She was instructed to insert another catheter someplace else, as the existing one was spoilt. I sighed dramatically and the staff laughed.

And thus another catheter was inserted into my left hand this time, at about the wrist area. Meanwhile, it turned out that the injection was given too quickly and my vein had burst. All the liquid in the syringe had instead gathered in the tissue under my skin, making the area swollen. My old catheter was removed and all the liquid trapped under my skin was squeezed out through the opening left behind. A rather laborious process. I lay there, bored and irritated.

After my ordeal, I went for a second, this time successful, scan, and could leave. One of the scanner staff wrapped the crook of my right arm in a tight bandage to prevent swelling. It was too tight and made more liquid ooze out of the wound. In the end, she had to unwrap it, squeeze some more liquid out of the wound a second time, then wrap it up again. I was quite pissed, Now, my left hand had a catheter on it and my right arm was partially immobilised. I was also thirsty. I got back to the ward and demanded water. The nurse took ages to ask permission from the doctor. They also set up a sling for me to keep my arm elevated. 

My mood only improved when I was moved to yet another ward (yes it's like they were playing human ping-pong with me throughout the hospital). It was also an isolation ward, but it had air-conditioning! At least I wouldn't have too worry too much about my excessive cold sweats now.

I had a refreshing bath before tumbling into bed. It had been a long day.