How I got here

How I came to end up needing surgery. 

First things first I will introduce myself. My name is Emma and I am a 25 year old female, about 6ft tall and around 67kg. Seems a strange number of statistics to include, but if you have found this blog because you have, like myself, suffered a spontaneous pneumothorax (SP), you will probably also know that your height and weight are about the only things doctors can point to as to why you have ended up in this unfortunate situation. So there you go, tall and slim, fit the bill perfectly. Just another thing to add to the list of things that make it a pain in the arse being tall....but everyone will still tell you you're so lucky!

So...I am pretty new to blogging, in fact I have never done it before now, however I have found myself doing nothing but reading blogs these past few weeks. Why? Because for some reason there is very little information anywhere else (including from the doctors) as to what I should come to expect once I have surgery to rectify the slight issue of my collapsable lungs. (At least they're easy to pack away....bah dum tish!  ...ok so that was a terrible pun I know).

What led me down the surgical route was a couple of SP's which occured at the beginning of this year (2015), in fact it first occurred whilst teaching a class of noisy year sevens. I found myself with pain around the ribs and an inability to speak all too loudly...the students didn't seem too fussed! I carried on for a few days as it happens, I thought with all my back problems it was surely just a strained muscle, but come Friday I was urged to visit my GP. With a history of a collapsed lung 8 years ago, a problem I thought had gone, I was then ushered for an x-ray in the same hospital that had treated my last collapsed lung.

So the X-ray, well that was a fun story in itself. I knew the drill...have an x-ray, find yourself waiting longer than a few minutes and something is probably wrong. That what happened last time I ended up with a small needle in my chest.  Well history repeated itself...15 minutes later and the radiographer finally appears. I expect the same routine as before, except this time he tells me I should get myself to A&E as soon as possible, followed by a few more questions. I can tell you my mind at the time was going overdrive. A&E? Why!? Surely you should be telling me why... what on earth had they found? Turns out when I asked him...it was collapsed again, but they no longer treat that there. (Could have led with this!!!) So with the relief of realising I did't have a tumour I then had the joy of driving myself (Yes they told me to drive myself!) to the other hospital. Safe to say I drove home in tears and in a state of mind unfit for the wheel, to ask my mum if she would kindly drive me to the hospital.

To cut the rest of the story short, I was sent home for it to heal...where it eventually collapsed again. So after several X-rays and meetings with a chest consultant I was advised that surgery would be the best option to prevent future SP's from occurring.

And so the research began...

What are the surgical options? 

What are their success rates? 

How painful are they? 

What is the recovery time?

It all seemed pretty simple to be honest. I would have a bullectomy and pleurectomy (I will explain these later). This would mean a hospital stay of 5-7 days, was described as very low risk and would mean only a 1% chance of reoccurrence post surgery. Still...they would be operating on my lungs so a fairly large amount of worry was acceptable I figured! This was when I started to look in more detail at the recovery times, I had a uni course to pick up again in September (I was teacher training) and wanted to ensure I would be OK by then. 
The surgeon was pretty laid back about recovery, even said I would be back at work in a week, but from the reading I had done online it seemed I might be looking at 2-3 months and to expect to be tired and in some pain until then. I figured it was February and September was months away...3 months later though and I am only now getting the go ahead for surgery.....3 months! And I believe this is likely only due to my persistence in calling the surgeons secretary multiple times for updates. 
So now the challenge to be fit for uni in September (3 months exactly) seemed a little more difficult. What if it didn't go to plan? What if I recover terribly? What if like some of the horror stories I had read it takes me years? Yet again a cascade of worry and anxiety.

And so that is where I was about a week ago. Getting ready to go into hospital for the operation. I felt fairly calm, or at least tried to keep myself that way, but of course I was also terrified. I had never even been under General Anaesthetic before, so that would be a first, and for some reason your mind likes to torture you with everything that could go wrong. But I got settled in, talked with some of my neighbours on the ward and prepared myself for the following day. 

So that is how I got here... multiple lung collapses and a fair amount of worry and waiting. But here I was in hospital at last...waiting to be fixed.