I should start by saying that I’m writing this is in retrospect due to events.
I’d booked an appointment to see my GP this morning (Monday) so that I could inform him how things were going with my new treatment, test results etc and hoping to discuss my painkillers. I was disappointed to find it was a Locum doctor but filled her in on the situation as best I could. She was very concerned and, listening to my chest, told me I looked awful and that she was worried that my anaemia and tachycardia were putting a strain on my heart; that she was sending me to the local hospital for a blood transfusion.
Now I’m always a bit hesitant to go to different hospitals to the one I’m treated at the majority of the time – the one where my rheumatology team and all my notes are based. In my experience, doctors that don’t know me tend to look at my results and ‘freak out’ a bit. But I’d been told I would be out by the evening and figured that treating the anaemia might make me feel a bit better than I was at least, so off we went.
We went straight to the Emergency Assessmet Unit, where they were expecting me, and a nurse took my obs, some blood and fitted a canula (into what seems to be my only remaining vein to comply!) After a short wait, I was seen by a doctor who wanted to know what had led up to me being there, so I tried to explain as best I could about starting my new treatment, my worries about anaemia and methotrexate and the rough time I’d had over the weekend, all the time thinking they were looking into the cause of the anaemia. So you can imagine my surprise when the doctor said that she thought I had a blood clot on my lung!
I was treated for a Pulmonary Embolism when I was 16, but although I’d mentioned some minor chest pain, this was more akin to what I’d experienced in January with Pericarditis and nowhere near as severe as the pain I’d had as a sixteen year old – not to mention that I was barely conscious at that time. But I understood that they needed to rule this out for themselves and so agreed to the tests and CT scan, even though it meant another stay in hospital. After all, it is better to be safe than sorry, and I was still hoping that it would lead to some relief.
I couldn’t have been more wrong!