| Just over a week later, on Saturday 2nd February I went to work. Whilst there I felt unwell, but stayed until the end of my shift. My husband picked me up from work and I still felt unwell when I got home. I felt like I had flu so I had a bath and lay on the sofa. I didn’t eat or drink very much over the next few days.
By Tuesday I had developed pain in my left leg, below my knee. When I woke on Wednesday morning I had pain in my right forearm and by that evening I couldn’t move my arm very much and was in a lot of pain.
I phoned NHS Direct and they suggested if I wasn’t better by morning to go to my doctor. But by 9pm that night I was in too much pain and my husband took me to hospital A&E Department.
I was examined and x-rayed and the doctor explained that there was something wrong but he didn’t know what it was. Different things in my body began to change over the next few hours. By early Thursday morning the top of my right arm began to swell. I saw many different consultants, who were all trying to establish what was wrong. I had an MRI scan after which one consultant explained that I needed to go to theatre.
I was told the operation could go 3 ways. I could lose a limb; lose my life or pull through.
After the operation I was taken to the high dependency unit. My arm had been cut open on both sides from my wrist to my elbow and all the ‘dead’ tissue was removed and the remaining muscle was cleaned. My left leg was cut open from my ankle to 3 – 4 inches behind my knee on the outside of my leg and, again, the dead tissue was removed. My arm and leg were packed and left open.
I was taken back to theatre on Friday and they did the same again. On Sunday they repeated the process, the muscles were cleaned and I was stitched up.
I was in hospital for 12 days and was looked after mostly by my three daughters who washed and dressed me and changed my bed. I went home with a walking frame, as I couldn’t bear weight on my left leg. I was told that if I had gone into hospital one day later my muscles would have died.
All I knew at this point is that I had Septicaemia and an infection. I was receiving physio and 10 days after going home I was given crutches. Only a few weeks later and I managed to walk unaided. I was doing exercises at home and physically I was making a good recovery. My doctor referred me to a counsellor as he believed I was suffering Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. I wasn’t sleeping well and I cried a lot.
It was my own doctor who told me that the infection I’d had was called Necrotising Fasciitis – I hadn’t been told this whilst in hospital. No-one knows how I got this infection, it could have been from a throat infection or a urine infection – in my case they don’t know why I developed it.
It is October now, 37 weeks later and I feel well now. I started back at work a month ago. The only problem I have is coping with my scars. I make sure I am covered, I wear trousers all of the time, and long sleeves to cover my arms.
My family and friends have been great. And have helped me through this terrible time. My family live in Scotland and have travelled to England to visit me. I have visited them now too.
My husband, daughters and close friend have given me the greatest of care and continue to look after me. Two of my daughters are in the nursing profession but all three of my daughters have nursed me back to health. I have 5 grandchildren aged from 3 years to 15 months and they have all been a great tonic for getting well again.
My scars have faded quite a lot by using Bio Oil and a Silicone Gel and hopefully in 12 months time they will be even better. Scars are a small price to pay and things could have been so much worse. My counsellor said she won’t discharge me until I stop covering up the scars, and I hope that time comes soon. |
