Intensive care

Our world has been turned upside down again. On Saturday night, I took my husband into A&E because I was worried he’d become a bit confused and was saying some pretty random stuff. He’d been feeling poorly for about a week but nothing as out of the ordinary as this. In the few hours that we waited to see a doctor, he deteriorated so much that he was unable to answer basic questions and became extremely drowsy. A night of waiting for tests followed and by Sunday morning he was moved to the intensive care unit and put on strong intravenous antibiotics.

They suspected encephalitis, a viral infection that affects the brain. Since then, this has pretty much been ruled out but the reason it’s all happening still isn’t known. He’s had so many tests and the results keep coming back clear – all until yesterday, when an MRI scan showed something on his brain which they suspect might have something to do with a mineral deficiency. Hopefully we will know more when he’s been assessed by neurologists later today, but until then, I’m left waiting and wondering what it is and how it can be treated. I’m not sure what to feel, think or expect, and I’m just feeling really, really scared.

Thankfully I’ve got my family around me and my children don’t really know what’s going on, because one is too young and the other is enjoying spending extra time with his grandparents and hasn’t yet realised how poorly his father is. He must have asked me three times where his dad is, but fortunately keeps forgetting when I say in hospital. It’s not new to him you see, as we’ve been here before. Many of you will know that 18 months ago Roger was admitted to intensive care in an emergency and spent the following eight months in hospital being treated for blood clots, a bowel resection and liver problems. So sadly intensive care isn’t a new environment for us, but at least I’m less shell-shocked by all the machines and the bleeps, and the anxiety and the sadness that comes with it. Another plus – if there can be such a thing – is that many of the nurses remember us from last time, and know exactly what we must be going through this time around.

I’m hoping and praying I have some positive news soon. It breaks my heart to think the situation might turn out anything other than good. We’ve been here before and we got through it. Turns out my husband is a fighter. So come on Rog, fight! We all love you so much x x x x

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