Accepting help

After my night slumped on the sofa feeling desperate, Richard said I needed to see a doctor.
I said that there was little point with a virus, but he called the medical centre anyway and managed to get someone to come out to see me. We both felt so low and emotional and asking for help gave us something to hold onto.

I cried when Tess said goodbye to me before school. I couldn't talk to her or hug her. I truly have reached rock bottom, and long for the ability to perform the simple acts of being able to breathe properly, to lie down and sleep, and turn to hug my daughter.

It seems I don't have a virus anymore but a chest infection and sinusitis. The doctor listened to my chest and said the left side was full of mucus. She prescribed antibiotics and stronger painkillers. Trying to explain everything was really difficult; speaking above a whisper or sitting up caused me to cough uncontrollably, and my head was pounding. She told me I must try to eat and drink however painful it is.

Once Richard had picked up my prescription, I immediately took 2 antibiotics and some codeine and managed to sleep a little. Knowing that I should start to feel better tomorrow was an enormous relief and I began to feel less hopeless.

I've felt ill for the whole of January now, and was prepared to struggle on knowing that there are viruses rife everywhere this winter, but as I lay slumped on the bed trying to swallow a bowl of porridge I realised just how being properly ill had crept up on me and how it had gradually got so much worse.
I really have become unable to be interested in anything and everything, and my life has become 100% about pain and breathing.

By evening, I began to feel more alert and was able to watch TV on my iPad in bed. It's amazing what a difference having pain controlled can make.