The antibiotics have still not had any noticeable effect - still coughing, blood count and condition isn't good and temperature is generally high, although that doesn't mean that I feel hot. Quite the opposite actually - I'm often pretty cold and need extra blankets at night. So, the Good Doctor has come up with something new.
An inhalation treatment. Three times a day. Two hours at a time. For three days. Starting today.
I've been shown the mask I'll be wearing - rigid blue plastic to cover my nose and mouth and held in place VERY tightly with rubber straps. Seems quite inocuous when it's in your hand.
No-one will be allowed in the room while the treatment is being given - not even the nurses unless they have masks, aprons and gloves. The exhalation tube - like that you get on a tumble drier - goes straight out of the window to help cure the chest infections of North Edinburgh. After the treatment ends, there will be an extra half hour in the exclusion zone to let the dust settle. Literally. This is nasty stuff. If it doesn't kill the viruses it'll probably kill me so the end objective will be achieved either way.
At 2.00 pm, in they came - the Ghostbusters. As it's quite a rare treatment, five or six apprentices came in to watch the chief Ghostbuster fit the mask and see where all the tubes go. Unfortunately, like too many cooks . . . something was going to go awry. As they all gathered round giving opinions and pushing and pulling at the straps to ensure that my face was squeezed tight enough to make an impression on the back of my head and that there was no infiltration of outside air - no-one was noticing that I couldn't breathe because the oxygen wasn't turned on. I was panicking (and suffocating) but it seemed more important to get the mask even tighter!
It was all too much. Eventually they heard my dying breaths (okay - that bit's an exaggeration) and released me from the vice to breathe normal, polluted air. From then on though, I knew I wasn't going to enjoy this one little bit.
Common sense prevailed and anyone not deemed necessary to the success of the operation left the room. In a more calm fashion, I was re-masked, oxygen on, thumbs up Top Gun style and off they went. A 'KEEP OUT - Danger of Death' sign went on the door and I looked at the clock and started to count every one of the next 120 minutes. Keep breathing - that's the trick - in and out - steady and even. This had better work!
And when it was over, the room and me had to be cleaned down to get rid of the powdery residue, a bit like mildew, that seemed to be everywhere.
Just enough time to get my tea, phone Mum to let her know how it had gone, see Liesl and tell her all about it and then it would start all over again - episode 2 at 9pm.
I canny wait until noon on Monday.
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