I was admitted to hospital throughout my childhood, teenage and early adult years. I am forever indebted to the hospital staff and ambulance crew for the quality of care that I was given over the years. Memories of spending a few days away from home. No, not a spa day london treat, but a clinical environment, people in uniform and experiencing the arrival at the hospital and the immediate intervention of my medical treatment. The feeling of helplessness and relief of being in good hands.
By the time I was an adult, my hospital experience and memories takes me to wards where I saw mostly elderly patients fighting with Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease (COPD). At this stage I started to question myself. Why am I on this ward? surely it was a mistake, everyone is so old. However we all had something in common. We all appeared to have the same symptoms, fighting to breath, wheezing, coughing up thick mucus production, tightness in the chest. Not forgetting the flare up during the night or in the early hours of the morning.
Instead of being at a health spa, having spa treatments, I was bed bound and propped up with pillows, listening to the hissing sound, while watching the smoke escape the masks as we were given nebulizers to aid our breathing. My eyes would move from left to right looking at the other patients being given their treatment. Too weak to move, I remember mentally saying to myself, I have to find a cure.
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