Autumn has always held a special place in my heart. It’s the season I eagerly anticipate, filled with the promise of family gatherings, apple picking, and the thrill of Halloween. This year, I was particularly excited, having recently recovered from major surgery, and I looked forward to making cherished memories with my loved ones.
However, my summer had been tumultuous, marred by the struggles of severe premenstrual dysphoric disorder (PMDD) and the challenges of surgery. I longed for the healing touch of fall, but fate had other plans.
One morning, as I walked my daughter to school just a stone’s throw from our home, I suddenly found myself gasping for air. A crushing weight settled on the left side of my chest, and my heart raced uncontrollably. Panic set in, yet I masked my fear, whispering a soft goodbye to my little girl. Unbeknownst to me, it could have been my final farewell.
The chilling statistic that nearly one-third of those diagnosed with pulmonary embolism do not survive hit me like a freight train. I slowly made my way home with my 5-year-old son, a journey that usually took minutes but felt like an eternity. I called my husband, urgently requesting a trip to the emergency room once he dropped our son off at school. I thought I might be battling pneumonia or pleurisy again, given my history with asthma and chronic illnesses.
Upon arrival at the ER, I was quickly given a bed and IV fluids. A blood panel was ordered, and I braced myself for the news. The doctor approached, his expression grave, and I could feel the weight of fear in my gut. The bad news? My D-dimer levels were alarmingly high, indicating a risk of blood clots. The good news? I would be admitted to the hospital for further evaluation. Confused, I learned that the D-dimer test was crucial in identifying clot risks and a key step in my path to recovery.
I was swiftly administered Lovenox, a blood thinner, and underwent a CT scan to pinpoint any clots. Thankfully, my legs and heart were clear. However, the diagnosis of multiple bilateral pulmonary emboli meant I would be on blood thinners for at least six months and required regular monitoring. Having never encountered blood clots before, I was blindsided, especially given my history of risk factors, including birth control pills and recent surgery.
My three-day hospital stay was a rollercoaster of emotions. While I was terrified and longed for my family, the compassionate staff around me made the experience more bearable. Each injection into my sore abdomen reminded me of the stakes involved; my health was on the line, but I was determined to fight.
As I navigated the recovery process, I found myself facing new challenges. Breathing was often difficult, and anxiety became a constant companion. I had to push myself to exercise, knowing it was essential for my recovery and preventing further clots. Daily medication helped manage my anxiety, and I remained hopeful that I would soon return to a semblance of normalcy.
Despite the daunting journey ahead, I was resolute. With the unwavering support of my family, friends, and medical team, I took it day by day, continually grateful for the love surrounding me. I learned to cherish the moments spent with my children and husband, appreciating their presence in my life like never before.
I urge everyone to familiarize themselves with the symptoms of pulmonary embolism. This condition can affect anyone, regardless of gender, and the risks only increase with age. If you or someone you know is considering birth control options, especially those containing drospirenone, please consult with a physician about the potential dangers. I genuinely believe these pills were a significant factor in my experience. For further insights into this subject, you can visit this link.
I was initially unaware of the signs of a pulmonary embolism, but I trusted my instincts, which ultimately saved my life. Now, though my activities are limited, I can once again embrace my beloved autumn season.
I love the fall now more than ever.