OPINION
I never thought at the age of 21, I would be in intensive care and fighting for my life, but within a few days in October 2022, my world was turned upside down.
As a professional dancer, I was thrilled when my agent said I had a callback for my dream West End show. I had been feeling quite unwell for a couple of weeks, but I had no idea that 48 hours later I would be on one of those dreaded lines of beds in A&E, listening to doctors describing that my oxygen levels were dropping very low, my condition didn’t seem to be improving, and I needed to be taken to an ICU ward and put on a ventilator.
I’d always been healthy, and never had any underlying health conditions, so when I first began developing symptoms like hot sweats followed by cold shivers and not really wanting to eat, I assumed it was just a fluey cold coming on. When my agent first called and said I had a last-minute audition in the West End, I thought: “Oh God, what bad timing, but of course I’ll go.” Performers pushing through is just what we do, and there was no way I wasn’t turning up. I had to show my face in that room.
That first audition lasted eight hours – two dance rounds and a singing round – and somehow, I made it through. But the feverish symptoms continued and that night, I began to develop a severe pain in my left shoulder and right hip which left me limping, and the following night I woke up in absolute agony at 4am, unable to sleep and screaming in pain. My parents called NHS 111 who suggested it might be Covid and that I’d likely pulled a muscle. They prescribed me strong painkillers and an anti-inflammatory and said it was likely to clear up in a few days.