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Nancy Crane
English Composition I
September 10, 2007
Essay 1: Personal Narrative
Wrong Diagnosis
On the night of June 29, 2004, I started a whirlwind of upsets, emotions, doubts, and pains throughout the Crane family and
friends. Little did I know that a blood clot was going to change my views and opinions of life forever.
It all began three weeks prior to June 29. I was in my hometown having a normal day running errands with my sister. I was
pregnant with my first child and due
any time. As the day progressed, I knew that it was going to be the big day. By the end of the day, with two hours of
fairly easy labor, Phebe Ashlynn Crane made her
appearance into the world. With my husband out to sea, I had more people around me than I needed, yet still missed him
terribly.
Two days later I was released from the hospital. I wasn't sure that I was ready to leave. I had told my doctor that I was
getting sick. I felt like I had a cold with a rattle in my chest. I was told to see my primary care Physician because it probably
wasn't anything more than a common cold. The next day I called my Physicians office and made an appointment for the next week.
I went in thinking that this probably was just a common cold, and felt different because I had just had a baby. When I went
back into the examining room I told the Physicians assistant what I was feeling. She then ordered x-rays to be done. I waited
anxiously while she studied the x-rays. When she returned, I was told that my lungs looked crystal clear. I knew something
more was wrong, but she the one with the degree.
A few nights later I went to visit my mother-in-law. She and my sister-in-law became concerned as not only did I look tired,
but I appeared to be swollen. My sister-in-law, having worked in the medical profession, seemed very worried about my swelling.
When I weighed, I had gained 16 pounds. After realizing this, I promised them I would see my doctor the next day.
This time I requested that I see the doctor instead of the assistant as it had become very difficult for me to breath. Several
test and more x-ray were done. Again, the doctor
saw nothing on the x-rays. The doctor then diagnosed me with Asthma and fluid retention. He prescribed an inhaler and
water pills and I was sent on my way.
That night, I went home and awoke in the middle of the night unable to breath well while laying down. At this time, it was
my daughter and myself alone in the apartment. I was really scared because I was unable to breath and all alone. I thought
maybe it's just my muscles tensing up because I was sleeping in a sitting position with no pillow between myself and the
headboard. I decided to go back to sleep and see if the feeling would go away by morning.
The next morning, I called to ask my sister if she would mind coming over because I was scared and didn't want to be alone
with my daughter. An hour later, my sister and a friend of hers arrived. When they got there I was lying on the couch with
my daughter holding her as she slept. I was unable to get up because I couldn't take in a deep breath. At this point I started
to cry, which made matters worse. Hannah called my dad at work and calmly told him that I needed to be taken to the emergency
room right away. I was seen immediately. The doctors gave me medicine to help me rest and it did just that.
When I awoke, my husband Seth was there. I was in pain, confused, and missing my daughter. I worried was she ok? What had
happened to me? Why and how is Seth here? The doctor, my mom, dad, and husband were all in the room, and I began asking everyone
what had happened. The diagnosis was pneumonia, pleurisy, and swelling that had caused a blood clot to start in my leg and
progress into my left lung. The doctor then explained that about ninety percent of people that come in at this stage don't
leave the hospital. I started to cry as the doctor continued to explain my Pulmonary embolism.
Over the next couple of weeks, I slowly recovered. The minor operation to relieve the pleurisy from my lung yielded over half
a gallon of fluid. The lower portion of my left lung will be scarred for the rest of my life. Due to the amount of opiates
I was prescribed, I could not continue to take care of Phebe alone. I had to stay in my home town for the next six months
until I was able to travel and take care of my daughter myself. I guess through all this, I became more aware of how short
life can be and how easy it is to be up and walking one day, and not know what happened the next. You always hear your parents
tell you to live everyday like its your last, but in most instances, you have to learn the hard way. In my case, it was having
a wrong diagnosis.
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