The Aftermath 2

“Do you have any other health conditions?”

“Not that I am aware of, why? Is there something else except the lung?”

“No, physically you are absolutely fine, your heart, your kidneys, your liver are absolutely intact and very healthy for your age.”

My age? I was 30-something (well, 34 to be precise).

“The chest x-ray showed some old scaring on your left lung, do you remember anything like this happened to you before?”

Now that caught me of guard? Scarring?

“What do you mean scarring? What does that mean?

“It means it’s not the first time your lung collapsed and it’s hard to believe you can’t remember anything like that…”

“Hold on”, my husband interrupted him, “Ages ago you were told you have a minor heart condition after you had difficulties breathing, remember?" I was catching on but that couldn’t be, no way…

“What happened and more importantly when and where?”, asked the doctor.

“Amm…”, I tried to remember and then it all came back to me. “I think I war around 16 years-old and my boyfriend, now my husband, sent me straight to the hospital as the noises that were coming from my chest sounded really scary.”

“Like what?”

“Cracking, bubbling, like you throw a wet towel against a wall and then hearing how slowly peels itself from the wall and splash on the floor, something like that. The scariest part was not that only I could hear this, my husband did to loud and clear so…”

“Do you have a chest x-ray from then?”

“Am, no. I never had one till today. I was told I had some issue with my heart that I should be able to overcome with sport so…” I stopped talking as I could see the doctor looking at me in disbelief. “What?”

“Did you have a diagnosis? I can’t see anything like that in your medical records…”

“I was in Bulgaria when that happened and basically was told that I am trying to find an excuse to skip school for a few days, I was told I’ll be fine and to start exercising I and should feel better. Of course, I couldn’t start right away as it was really painful but no one took what I’m was saying seriously, even when I had to take breaks in between floors on the staircase as I couldn’t breathe. So as I felt a bit better I started exercising, then started running and never actually stopped, I’m still a runner, I…”

I stopped talking as the doctor had a strange look on his face, which I couldn't read. I knew already his "frustration" face and that wasn't it. I wasn't laud or perhaps I said something stupid?

He took a deep breath. Then another one. It was his "disbelief" face I learn later on.

“The x-ray clearly shows this is not your first pneumothorax and when you have one rest is crucial… Did you have any chronic pain afterwards?”

“No, nothing, it wasn’t easy in the beginning with running and all, but the doctor told me my hearth needed to get stronger so I…”

Now the expression on his face was hard to read again as it was kind of a mix between "frustration" and "diebelief", but again it made me stop talking for a moment waiting for him to say something.

He didn't, took him a few more seconds, which I took as a "green light" to start talking again. "I see the doctors then got it wrong but whatever it was I recovered on my own with no surgery and…”

“I actually find it surprising that you survived, given the recommendations you were given. Exercising in any form, let alone running… with punctured lung… you could simply die, depending on your health, other factors, but somehow you recovered with no chronic pain…”

Well, yeah, it was definitely panful but if I didn’t push through it I was told I could have more severe hearth issues. So I ran. Go figure…

One thing that I didn’t think of back then was that when I had the first pneumothorax I was 16. You can’t compare how a 16-year-old body will recover to a 34-year-old one… I should have thought about this as it’s obvious, but I didn’t. That actually gave me some comfort – I’ve managed once (although what I know now what they suggested to me back in Bulgaria was more like a suicide), so I’ll manage again.

“Ok, at least now we know…”, said the doctor “and that automatically answers my second question, which was how it’s possible for you to have a normal oxygen levels, speak and walk – due to all the running you did as recommended (he shook his head in anger) not only your hearth is stronger, but your other lung is stronger too. Impressively stronger I must say - to have 99% oxygen levels in your condition it's a rare thing. At least I've never seen such levels with pneumothorax cases till today."

Somehow I felt proud of my "achievement" not really understanding what he was saying, but I was "impressive". Of course I am. It's me, after all!

Only if I knew how stupid I was. Well, I still am - don't think that I'm "wiser" right now... 

"You are just in great physical shape and your right lung was able to compensate for the time being”, he finished. “But let me be very clear here – no running this time, no exercise of any kind, ONLY bed rest minimum for the next two weeks (I really wanted to interrupt him but I managed to keep my mouth shut). We’ll keep you overnight and we’ll see if your lung can recover again on his own – if there is no change in your condition I’m afraid we’ll have to discuss surgery.”

I just nodded.

I was already sure I’ll be fine and there will be no surgery.

After all, it wasn’t even painful anymore.

The funny things is I didn’t know I was on pain killers. That I learned later on.

This is when codeine and tramadol were introduced to me – only I didn’t know that this time “the inflating” part would be so painful, I was ready to go through five more C-sections, just not this.

There was no surgery, thank God, but the recovery lasted year and a half.

Not just that – I still have a pain where some of the last air bubbles were absorbed by my lung.

Lots of thing happened afterwards.

And I wasn’t ready for a single one of them…