397 days

If this week would have happened before April 2017, I would have Sepsis. Without a shadow of a doubt. But the only difference being, nobody would have known about it. Nobody would have been around to call the emergency services. I certainly wouldn’t have called them. No chance. My door would have been locked and all phones un-plugged and turned off. I would have been in a very bad way. I certainly wouldn’t be writing this.

Untreated, life-threatening, conditions are not conducive to the written word. I’ve been reliably informed by professionals that it’s very hard to write when you’re dead. Rigor mortis, and all that stuff.

Corpses don’t blog.

I’m not out of the woods yet but thanks to the expertise and quick-thinking of a fantastic doctor who arranged urgent treatment, I’m now Sepsis-free. I’m also not dead (although my mirror tells me differently).

So, what happened? And what’s this doing on an addiction blog? Bear with me.

Six days ago, I woke up with a painful lump under my ear. As the day went on, it grew. I was confused, feeling sick and peeing razor blades. Hot and cold flushes. I walked like I was drunk. The lump grew and the pain increased. Going against my old addicted nature, I called the doctor’s surgery and got an emergency appointment.

The GP took one look at it and her face dropped. She called in a colleague and they both agreed instantly. Straight to hospital! Right now!

Blood tests, blood pressure, cannula in the arm, and pumped with antibiotics. I’ve been in hospital every morning since then: lanced, drained, cut open, cleaned, swabbed, and dressed. You name it, I’ve had it. But it’s not going away. Samples have gone off for tests to see what variation of infection it is. But I’m not dying and I don’t have Sepsis anymore. I’m sore and very bored of it all. But sore and very bored mean I’m alive and dealing with problems as they arise.

So, what would have happened pre-April 2017?

Nothing. My best guess is that it would have gone like this:

Woke up with a painful lump under my ear – drank alcohol. As the day went on, it grew and grew – drank alcohol. Feeling sick, confused, peeing razor blades, hot and cold, and walking like I was drunk – more alcohol. The lump got bigger and the pain worse – kept drinking alcohol. Go to the shop, get more alcohol. Repeat until blackout.

No urgency there eh! All blotted out until whatever happened, happened. It wouldn’t have progressed much further than the next drink. No doctors, nurses, or surgical teams. No friends to worry about me because they wouldn’t have known. Alcohol was my antibiotic and anaesthetic for everything – my oral Cannula. Extreme pain and increasing symptoms? I wouldn’t have cared one iota. Certainly not with a bottle in my hand. Pain? Death? Bring it on! Sooner the better! Nobody gives a shit anyway. And on with the badly-attended pity-party of one. Rinse and repeat.

But it’s 2019. I don’t have Sepsis. I’m 397 days sober and glad to be alive! I love my life and adore my many wonderful, stunning, amazing friends and peers and (soon to be) colleagues. I love my son so very much. Next month I’ll be employed for the very first time in two years working in my dream job as an addiction recovery worker. I’ve worked really hard for it. So hard! I won’t let anything get in the way of all this love and joy and new confidence. Nothing!

Recovery will always forever be the hardest thing that I’ve ever done, and keep doing. But I have to keep doing it because the alternative isn’t worth going back to. Ever!

Hell’s basement is always open to me to slide or fall into the pit. So, I carefully watch where I walk. Every single day. Because without my recovery I have nothing. Well apart from Sepsis, badly-attended parties, oh, and death.

I’ll keep you posted.

Keep smiling. Stay safe everyone xxx