"It's more bad than good.."

(I have added links to some of the terms you may not be familiar with in blue)

What I have been going though over the last few days has been very weird/strange/odd/uncomfortable. It's really been a test of strength of character for myself, my family and those close to me. When I do get a chance to think about things, of what I'm about to tell you, all seems very unreal in it's very literal sense.

On Wednesday 13th I went to the City Hospital for a routine blood test. Well when I say routine, it was a follow up test to the one I had at the start of the year which showed my hb level to be a below average and I was suffering from "mild anaemia" So I was prescribed some iron tablets and to have a blood test done after a couple of months to see how it was progressing.

Now after this I didn't think nothing of it. Sure I felt tired all the time and I thought I was going to collapse a few times at work, but I had gotten so used to feeling like this I thought it was "normal" although I knew in the back of my mind it wasn't "normal." It was almost like I was in denial about these issues and that I had something wrong with me but then again who wants to scream at the top of their voice "I'm sick!"?

Anyway I was in the midst of watching United play Wigan and ironically I had fallen asleep when I got a knock on the door. It was from an on call doctor from Selly Oak hospital. She basically said she had seen my blood test results from earlier in the day and my hb level had dropped to 5.2. This probably means nothing to you but when you take into consideration a male at my age should be at least 13 you can see why she was worried. She said that she had arranged for me to be seen at Selly Oak hospital immediately to have a blood transfusion and that I need to go there right now. The time was about 21:15 and I was thinking "What the hell is going on? Is this some kind of joke?" So before you could say "Luis Antonio Valencia" I was in a hospital bed.

I was carted into the admission ward surrounded by people who seemed to have been in hospital for a while. The people in the ward were at least 50 years of age and then there was me. Luckily both my parents had accompanied me who were there to make sure I wouldn't go completely insane. Once I arrived I was examined by a doctor for a good 2 hours checking out every inch of my body. I had a caliper inserted into my left hand which was rather unpleasant. It allows fluids to go and and our my blood stream. It was left in till the time came to leave hospital. And I had about a million samples of blood taken from me in these few hours.

I didn't sleep at all that night which is what can be expected. Everything seemed very odd. Being at home one minute and then being in this place the next.

I was moved to a much quieter ward the next day for further tests and investigations. This was a much smaller ward with males only with people in it that were bed ridden and hooked up to machines. It was made clear to me that a blood transfusion would only be given after all preliminary tests were done as going into it would "mask" the underlying issues I am having. I proceeded to have a chest x-ray and a ultrasound on my stomach that day. The same sort of ultrasound pregnant women have.

The results were given to me on Friday and the verdict wasn't good. They found that my spleen was not of a normal size and was enlarged with mysterious "dark spots". Also that my lungs had an unusual amount of enlarged lymph nodes all over them.

When I was told I shit myself. When you get bad news like this you want to know what it is and how it can be solved. And I pestered the doctors for that information but they didn't tell me much and I can see why as they didn't want to give me a wrong diagnosis or get me worried about something without all the tests and scans being completed.

My dad summed it up the best with another one of his famous analogies, "A mechanic doesn't just look at a broken car and know what is wrong with it does he?" I love my dad.

It would be decided that later on in the day I was to have the first of four units of blood transfused into me. I'm guessing not many of you have had one of these things done before so allow me to describe what it is like. A tube is inserted into the top of your left hand and it has to be kept still in order for the blood to flow into your vein at an appropriate rate. Then this is connected to a drip which allows a bag of blood containing around 350ml of blood. My drip looked like this...


This is the point is started to dawn on me on what was happening. Sitting there, staring at four walls, not being able to move and watching each drip/drop of blood. It was like watching paint dry. But while you are sat there, in amongst feeling sorry for yourself, you start to think about stupid things. Like I was thinking "what have I done to deserve this" or "have I done something wrong?" Very silly I know. But it's very hard to stay positive 24/7 which is the type of person I try to be.

When Saturday arrived I was awoken at the crack of dawn by a doctor and informed very apologetically that I was to have another three units of blood back to back. So again the process started. But I was very lucky that my parents, Lee and Ian spent the whole day with me and allowed me to distract my mind by just talking about Football was great to pass the time.

On the following Monday I had a CT scan in the Morning which I was nil by mouth. It sucked a lot but not being able to eat was the least of my worries at this time. I arrived in the room and was placed on a conveyor belt type of thing which was in the middle of a massive circle which is able to take photos of the inside of human body in 360degrees. The nurse informed that she was going to insert some dye into my blood stream and that "you are going to think that you are going to wet yourself." Trust me. She wasn't lying.

The next day I was discharged from hospital but I didn't feel a great sense of relief like I should. Sure it was nice to be home, and have the comforts but as you can see I wasn't given any treatment apart from the blood transfusions. I left and felt like I didn't know what the hell was going on in my own body which is a very scary thought. Not being in control of my own bodily functions.

My mood fluctuated during my time in hospital one from pure negativity and feeling like it was the beginning of the end. To one of optimism where I would think this whole episode is a minor setback and when the doctors sort me out I will be a new and improved Manoj whose body won't let him down anymore. Hopefully.

Two days later I had to visit QE Hospital for an Endoscopic Ultrasound which I was extremely nervous about as I had never been under general anaesthetic before. Once I arrived my fears were put to rest somewhat as the doctors and nurses were very professional and like they had done these procedures a million times. I was taken into a room and met by a very friendly and knowledgeable doctor who was undertaking the endoscopy today. I really thought I'd be able to remember part of what happened but the last thing I remember was being lay out on a bed then a while later being in another room with my mother shaking me and shouting "MANOJ!"

Afterwards I managed to speak to the doctor in my still somewhat dazed state and asked him if there was anything he could tell me about my scan. When he spoke to me I got a sense that he had a lot of information that he was withholding in case he made an incorrect diagnosis. What he said was they "took a lot of pictures and found a lot of things. The main thing being that your windpipe has enlarged to 4.5cm when it should only be 1.5cm."

It seemed to me that the more tests they did, they found more things wrong with me. It was difficult to be upbeat in situations like this but I HAD to keep telling myself that the more information they find, the better chance they have for making the correct verdict and to give me the right course of action.

Being at home and being off work since last Thursday has given me time to reflect upon what is going on and I just feel like "why me?" I just want to be able to go back to a normal healthy life, like right now. I actually want to go to work and you won't often hear me say that.

When you find yourself in an unexpected hour of need, you kinda realise who are the people that actually love you and really care about you. And it's almost like a test in some ways to see if the love and the "doanythingforyou" mentality that you display to others on a daily basis is replicated when you need it most. I've learnt some things.

I have been having a lot of chest pain and difficulty breathing which scares me l and whenever you try to not think about my ordeal, I get a sharp pain to remind me.

On Wednesday I go to see the haematologists who will try and make sense of this mess I am in and provide me with a course of treatment which will help get me back on track. Wish me luck eh?

So as it stands I have problems with my spleen, problems with my lungs, problems with my windpipe and problems with my blood. Twenty five years old and falling to pieces. It's no fun being me right now...












Currently listening to Do You Know Who You Are? by Texas Is The Reason