Something is missing
Summary of what happened:
I was on vacation and got caught in a gigantic dust storm, apparently it’s called a “haboob”? I felt the dirt and sand building up in my nose and causing irritation. I went indoors and stayed inside as much as possible. The next day I had a runny nose and figured some allergens were blown around and I was getting a cold. The next day I had the slightest sore throat. This was the day I was traveling home. At worst, I felt the plane ride would suck because a cold was kicking in.
About 40 minutes into a 4.5 hour plan ride, I spiked a fever. I felt hotter than I ever experienced in my entire life. I became “head heavy”, drowsy, and then the shortness of breath started. For the duration of the flight, I couldn’t breathe properly – it was like each breath was from a tiny cup of air, and not a single breath was enough for relief. I have no history of asthma or anything like that, so this was quite a new experience, but I was managing. I’m a big guy, and not to boast, but I’m pretty tough – both physically and mentally. I always prided myself in those aspects and had a history of dealing with crisis incredibly well.
When I got off the plane, I was still in the tunnel when I realized I couldn’t actually say anything due to shortness of breath. I couldn’t communicate with my girlfriend to tell her what was wrong. Seeing her confusion and worry, I darted for the exit of the tunnel. When I got to the terminal, I dove into the first chair I could find, put my hands above my head and tried to breathe. This is how I dealt with things when I played sports back in high school. After a few minutes I knew something was drastically wrong and did something I never ever do – asked for help. I could manage to say “medic” when one of the airline staff exited the plane. In about 5 minutes a medic was there and giving me a breathing treatment that really seemed to relieve the issue. He talked me into going to the hospital. Now for me, this was a big deal. I don’t go to the doctor for anything. I’ve broken some bones and never gotten help before knowing I could get through it. I’m not saying these were wise decisions, but it’s just to give an example of how serious I felt the situation was at the time.
Upon arriving at the hospital, I was given xrays and a CT Scan. Immediately after I was shipped up to the ICU. I had multifocal pneumonia which also triggered an asthma attack. Three pneumonia infections existed between both lobes in my lungs. They said they typically only see this in people who have immune systems that are weak, like people infected with HIV or Hepatitis, etc. When I got the the ICU room, I had another attack. For the first time in my life I felt helpless and out of control. All I could do was crawl up the bed and start to grasp at all the tubes in me and connections on my skin. It was a pure panic reaction to my body simply not getting oxygen.
I was in the hospital for 5 days, slowly making progress. Oddly enough, they said all my tests came back great and otherwise I was in great health (no HIV or anything like that thank God). They said they had no idea how I survived the flight, and that a healthy person with one infection of pneumonia should have collapsed, yet I didn’t. At first, that was incredibly comforting. I felt like my stubborn and determined nature kicked in to help beat this thing despite the lack of air I was receiving. At the end of my stay, I read about what had happened to me and confirmed that the mortality rate was like 30% for people placed into ICU for pneumonia. That’s almost 1 out of 3 people. That’s a little terrifying.
It’s now a week later. I’ve returned to work and just have the tail end effects of a cold. The cough is 99% gone, the latest xrays just show scarring and no pneumonia, and I’m done with my antibiotics. According to my doctor, I’m in the clear.
So what’s the problem? I don’t know how to explain it, and no one understands when I try, but something is missing. I feel like a part of me died in that hospital. I can’t even think about the experience without tears forming in my eyes. And what they said, about how I should have collapsed, it’s no longer comforting. It’s saddening. I don’t know why, but it is.
Now don’t get me wrong, the clean bill of health was refreshing to hear. A new perspective on things (not to sound cliche) has dawned on me and I’ve almost never been more motivated to do things in my life. But on the other hand, I’ve already cut people out of my life who I now feel added nothing to it. And as much as I want to get back into the swing of things, I can’t help but feel incredibly alone. I had visitors every day in the hospital and so many people reached out to me during and after the hospital stay to see how I was. The support was overwhelming. Yet, here I am, searching on the internet for people with similar experiences because something is wrong. I’m not the same. And I can’t think of a single reason why that would be so.
Has anyone ever experienced anything like this? What did you do? Why in the world would I feel this way? After everyone being so supportive, how can I feel this alone? Hollow would be a good word to describe it. I’m just completely lost.
