Pneumonia’s Plight

Pneumonia’s Plight

I thought I had a bad cold. My chest hurt, I couldn’t take a deep breath, I had a dry cough and was short of breath, so I went to the doctor. He said I had pneumonia and I was admitted to the hospital immediately. I was scared and worried about the worst.

The next few days were a blur of tests and medications. Between coughing fits, I managed a few hours of sleep here and there. I felt so sick and weak when I tried to get out of bed. All I wanted to do was go home.

My doctor didn’t seem optimistic and I began to worry if I’d ever get out of the hospital. I wanted to be back in my own bed and not hooked up to monitors and IVs all day. I saw the concerned looks on my family’s faces when they visited me and it seemed to make my chest hurt even more.

The days stretched on, and I just seemed to get sicker. My chest hurt more and more and I began to struggle even more to breathe. My family’s visits became less and less frequent as the weeks passed and I figured they were just coming to terms with the fact that I may not get better.

The doctors told me that I had a severe form of pneumonia and my body was too weak to fight it. I was given enough medication to make me comfortable, but deep down I knew it was just a matter of time before the inevitable happened.

Soon I was able to barely whisper and I would drift in and out of consciousness. On my last day, with my family at my side, I said my final goodbye. In the end, my body wasn’t strong enough to fight pneumonia and I passed away.

Pneumonia was the cause of my suffering and the end to my story.

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