I think after a massive attack like the one I had this week, it is only understandable that I am feeling a bit deflated and, I have to say, really a bit down about the whole thing. I mean, I know it wasn't really my own doing and was probably just one of "Those" things. I just feel a bit pants this morning and I can't work out what is actually wrong.
I woke up at 6, which is something I don't often do so that in itself didn't really help me or my mood much. I just woke up and struggled for a while to settle back down to sleep. I had only had something daft. I felt a bit low until about half 8 when I decided a lie down would be a good idea. I woke up again about half 10 so I must have done something right. As daft as that sounds. I think I would have been feeling less grumpy if I hadn't been up and down throughout the night, or my lungs deciding that even though I wasn't that unwell, it felt as though something was sitting on my chest and flattened me.
I am eternally grateful, I must say for the lovely people at Worcestershire County Council's PDSS (Physical Disability Support Group) and the Lifeline operators. In particular the wonderful lady who answered our call on Saturday and quickly saw that I was given the help and care I needed in a prompt manner. When my SPo2 began to really drop in to the 80% area, I was really starting to feel it, I just felt as though I wanted to fall asleep and my head was hurting, my sides were as though I was being torn apart by a buzz-saw. I barely had the strength to cry out in pain.
I never want that feeling ever again, but I do feel better knowing someone has my back.
3 years ago