Took awhile, but most seemed to get the point that I was not who was supposed to be in the room. One of the cleaning crew came in, squinted his eyes at me, I just said switched rooms. Nope, no one seemed to be telling me anything.
At this point someone with glasses came in. Dressed up in a suit, glared at me harshly. Never said a word. Left the room, nurse wasn't there. I saw him pick up my several pound file and heard yelling. I recall him saying he wanted to know what the Hell was going on. He'd come in specifically today for the other person. I seem to hazily recall a lot of arguing.
My concept of time was nil and void, even if there was a clock I couldn't have been able to see it. Later he returned, used my full name and promised to take good care of me. It was chilling. Worse yet, he was the main main in charge of the pharmacy. I was firghtened. Did I tell anyone, of course not.
Well I finally inquired about my items that I left when I went in for surgery, some weeks ago. Most notably my glasses and cell phone. These could not be located. It took quite a lot of time. The nurse who was on duty on the other side of step down came in and questioned me. I told her I gave them my stuff and it was inventoried.
Unsure when, next day or not it was located. 2 bags. I contained my urine soaked slippers which I told them to throw out the day of the incident. The other my folder and my cell phone and most happily my glasses. I COULD SEE AGAIN. The room was large for ICU standards. And there were windows. The room that I thought the woman was staring at me from, angrily, turned out to be a supply room. They turned on my T.V.
Room service became a routine. I would not order until I was sure the other room ordered first and was delivered. The man delivering the food would always assure me when it was safe to do so. I wanted to cause no more fuss. I just wanted to start my recovery.
Every day on duty began with the angry man with glasses coming in and assuring me he'd take good or excellent care of me. Again this was my only fearfull time of this. Belive it or not, I was more concerened he'd neglect someone else because of the furor I'd inadverdently caused. Nothing ever happened as far as I know.
Saturday, June 30, 2012
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
The weirdness keeps coming.
Foggily I lifted my head. The room had grown immensely. There was a pillow on it, I swear that it had the presidential seal on it. I rose, I had to get back to my own room. Someone came in and insisted where I thought I was going. Back to my room I insisted back, saying this was not my room. Upon asking me whose room I thought it was I said I didn't know, but it wasn't mine.
There was now a television, to the right was a window and a corridor. A little further was what I thought was an office. I swore someone was in there in a chair glaring at me. Mind you I still didn't have my glasses. I may have suggested that I was in Bush's room. I just wasn't in mine. I really thought the person seemed like secret service, didn't seem like an ICU attendant at all.
"This is your room."
"Is it? Have I been here all along?"
No answer.
"If this is my room can I get a soda?"
"What kind?"
"Ginger ale would be nice"
"Sure" as I settled a woman, def not a nurse entered to keep an eye on me. Me? Well If I was now able to get more than ice chips, Hell it was my room.
I settled down. Got my ginger ale, sipped it oh so slowly and enjoyed every damned bubble. They gave me a cola after that. I asked that I be given another cola and a cup. On it I wrote, damn the room number I know I wrote it, can no longer recall it. Something about the better man. I really thought George Bush somehow had co-opted my room and left me here. Back into the uneasy unconciousness I slid.
Less of the dropping through the floor, I think I actually slept. I remember waking. The nurse, the one who spoke sternly to me was outside giving my records to the new person. Smiling knowingly, something felt amiss, very wrong. I asked if I was allowed food and they said yes, goodness I was hungry. And how I loved this hospitals food. I ordered what I could. Egg whites and a bit of yogurt I think. Some Dr. paused outside my door, looked perplexed at me, checked the room number and asked the nurse. He then proceeded to another room. Never saw this Dr. again.
There was a brown, leather looking menu thing I saw breifly, never saw it again. Breakfast was brought to me. Not at all what I ordered. Eggs yes, no yougurt, some farina, a piece of cake. The man who brought it was the same fellow who had brought me my food in the ER overflow just before I had to forgo it, in a previous posting. Before the endoscopy and colonoscopy. No difference, it was food and I ate it slowly.
There were more passerbys who looked in my room curiously, like I didn't belong there. As if to say to themselves "who in the Hell is thiis?" They would question and be directed to another room where the other Dr. had gone. This went on for a bit. Then there was a yell.
"What the Hell is this, I didn't order this!" from the afforementioned room.
Basically the room, for discussion sake was 235, I was in now 235a. The person got my breakfast. The attendant came in, who brought me my breakfast and asked. I gutturally said I ate my breakfast, was it someone elses? I asked if I needed to aplogize.
Another crew started, and there were more stares as to who was I. The nurse outside of my room seemed to be doing a whole lot of explaining. Then more confused Dr.s. I began to just direct people to the nurse outside. I had no idea afterall, no one was telling me shit.
There was now a television, to the right was a window and a corridor. A little further was what I thought was an office. I swore someone was in there in a chair glaring at me. Mind you I still didn't have my glasses. I may have suggested that I was in Bush's room. I just wasn't in mine. I really thought the person seemed like secret service, didn't seem like an ICU attendant at all.
"This is your room."
"Is it? Have I been here all along?"
No answer.
"If this is my room can I get a soda?"
"What kind?"
"Ginger ale would be nice"
"Sure" as I settled a woman, def not a nurse entered to keep an eye on me. Me? Well If I was now able to get more than ice chips, Hell it was my room.
I settled down. Got my ginger ale, sipped it oh so slowly and enjoyed every damned bubble. They gave me a cola after that. I asked that I be given another cola and a cup. On it I wrote, damn the room number I know I wrote it, can no longer recall it. Something about the better man. I really thought George Bush somehow had co-opted my room and left me here. Back into the uneasy unconciousness I slid.
Less of the dropping through the floor, I think I actually slept. I remember waking. The nurse, the one who spoke sternly to me was outside giving my records to the new person. Smiling knowingly, something felt amiss, very wrong. I asked if I was allowed food and they said yes, goodness I was hungry. And how I loved this hospitals food. I ordered what I could. Egg whites and a bit of yogurt I think. Some Dr. paused outside my door, looked perplexed at me, checked the room number and asked the nurse. He then proceeded to another room. Never saw this Dr. again.
There was a brown, leather looking menu thing I saw breifly, never saw it again. Breakfast was brought to me. Not at all what I ordered. Eggs yes, no yougurt, some farina, a piece of cake. The man who brought it was the same fellow who had brought me my food in the ER overflow just before I had to forgo it, in a previous posting. Before the endoscopy and colonoscopy. No difference, it was food and I ate it slowly.
There were more passerbys who looked in my room curiously, like I didn't belong there. As if to say to themselves "who in the Hell is thiis?" They would question and be directed to another room where the other Dr. had gone. This went on for a bit. Then there was a yell.
"What the Hell is this, I didn't order this!" from the afforementioned room.
Basically the room, for discussion sake was 235, I was in now 235a. The person got my breakfast. The attendant came in, who brought me my breakfast and asked. I gutturally said I ate my breakfast, was it someone elses? I asked if I needed to aplogize.
Another crew started, and there were more stares as to who was I. The nurse outside of my room seemed to be doing a whole lot of explaining. Then more confused Dr.s. I began to just direct people to the nurse outside. I had no idea afterall, no one was telling me shit.
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
What dreams may come.
This part gets strange. I remember this vividly. 2 I figured to be dreams, the third of course has to be but I cannot totally reconcile it.
Dream 1. Involves George Bush senior. Something vaguely about one time holding off the homestead singing about the Cherry pie Mrs. Bush made. Pits somehow were involved. It was a very quaint building I can recall. Never saw the pie.
Dream 2. On the prairie or some sort a plane dropped a bottle cap. Sort of the kind of thing from the movie "The Gods must be crazy." In any case he was so enraged he followed the plane. He found the man at his home and read him the riot act about littering as he handed him the bottle cap. I recall the man being astonished.
Not weird enough? The final act, maybe hallucination from the ice chips, who knows. The gala downstairs was in full swing. People in fancy dress, tuxedos and such. From under my bed came a miniature train which I rode. Straight through the party, it was fun. Passing through the crowd. Someone was in front, I think it was the cardiologist who admitted me. In the door came my regular cardiologist, who called to the Dr. The train raced on back upstairs. I could see the controls being used in a room by....George Bush senior. Back in bed I went.
I awoke now. Startled. The room was very unfamiliar to me.
Dream 1. Involves George Bush senior. Something vaguely about one time holding off the homestead singing about the Cherry pie Mrs. Bush made. Pits somehow were involved. It was a very quaint building I can recall. Never saw the pie.
Dream 2. On the prairie or some sort a plane dropped a bottle cap. Sort of the kind of thing from the movie "The Gods must be crazy." In any case he was so enraged he followed the plane. He found the man at his home and read him the riot act about littering as he handed him the bottle cap. I recall the man being astonished.
Not weird enough? The final act, maybe hallucination from the ice chips, who knows. The gala downstairs was in full swing. People in fancy dress, tuxedos and such. From under my bed came a miniature train which I rode. Straight through the party, it was fun. Passing through the crowd. Someone was in front, I think it was the cardiologist who admitted me. In the door came my regular cardiologist, who called to the Dr. The train raced on back upstairs. I could see the controls being used in a room by....George Bush senior. Back in bed I went.
I awoke now. Startled. The room was very unfamiliar to me.
'I FOGOT HOW TO......"
Sorry got busy but am back to continue. Night of the respirator removal now continues.
Carefully and cautiously, was watching my every breath. Not to fast, not to slow, oh the things we take for granted in our daily lives huh? Had an oxygen mask on, practicing my breathing. A man from respiratory came in, rushed, for my first ever nebulizer treatment. Essentially it was treatment to help my lungs, clear any fluid and such. It is not painful, just a mist you have to breath in deeply. He unhooked my mask and started the treatment and said he'd be back in a few minutes when it was done. I was doing my best. Now I'm not sure exactly what took place, I think I wasn't getting enough oxygen and had a slight panic attack. Especially because I had to pee. I rang for the nurse. She came with 2 people and I was not at my best.
In my best panicky way I said..."I have to pee and I can't. What's wrong." mind you I am saying this gutturally and agitatedly.
"John!" she said sternly. "Never let anyone take off your oxygen, you JUST got off a respirator and do not want to go back on. Do not do this again! Also, you have a catheter tube, stop trying to pee, it will go on it's own."
"oh...thank you" I said relaxing as she put the oxygen back on my face. I don't recall seeing the nebulizer dude again that night. And yes, once I relaxed, the catheter began to do its job as well.
Finally the tube in my nose was to come off. That did hurt a little. I asked why they kept letting the green liquid go back in me. "That has been your nutrition."
Never did ask why the Hell it as green.
They started letting me have ice chips. Oh the gloriousness of them. I was cautioned not to have to many or I'd get sick. And it could cause me to have to go back on the respirator which they said would not be good. All they would give me is ice chips.
I think another night started to pass, so lost in time when you're in that place. Had some wonderful nurses. Oh and I should mention that, with the nutrition tube explained, except for the color. It made sense to me why I was still having the need to poop.
At some point I rang the bell, and the 2 that were with the nurse who spoke to me above came. I needed the bed pan. They obliged me. It didn't feel right and I mentioned it to me. They said, I think gleefully, don't worry about it, if there's a mess we'll be the ones cleaning it.
Well I was right. Not only was it backwards, but one check was on and the other off. Yup SPILL IN AISLE 1. Was all in good nature.
I still remember some stern conversation from one Dr. with glasses and 2 of the nurses of the pulmonary sort. He really wanted me out of this room. I remember his yelling at the other Dr. as well from earlier, hope I covered that.
It was about me being out and taken off the respirator previously. Before the meeting with the disenchanted rugby woman. I still somehow thought that the room I was in was to be used somehow in an affair the hospital as having.
I think I nodded off.
Carefully and cautiously, was watching my every breath. Not to fast, not to slow, oh the things we take for granted in our daily lives huh? Had an oxygen mask on, practicing my breathing. A man from respiratory came in, rushed, for my first ever nebulizer treatment. Essentially it was treatment to help my lungs, clear any fluid and such. It is not painful, just a mist you have to breath in deeply. He unhooked my mask and started the treatment and said he'd be back in a few minutes when it was done. I was doing my best. Now I'm not sure exactly what took place, I think I wasn't getting enough oxygen and had a slight panic attack. Especially because I had to pee. I rang for the nurse. She came with 2 people and I was not at my best.
In my best panicky way I said..."I have to pee and I can't. What's wrong." mind you I am saying this gutturally and agitatedly.
"John!" she said sternly. "Never let anyone take off your oxygen, you JUST got off a respirator and do not want to go back on. Do not do this again! Also, you have a catheter tube, stop trying to pee, it will go on it's own."
"oh...thank you" I said relaxing as she put the oxygen back on my face. I don't recall seeing the nebulizer dude again that night. And yes, once I relaxed, the catheter began to do its job as well.
Finally the tube in my nose was to come off. That did hurt a little. I asked why they kept letting the green liquid go back in me. "That has been your nutrition."
Never did ask why the Hell it as green.
They started letting me have ice chips. Oh the gloriousness of them. I was cautioned not to have to many or I'd get sick. And it could cause me to have to go back on the respirator which they said would not be good. All they would give me is ice chips.
I think another night started to pass, so lost in time when you're in that place. Had some wonderful nurses. Oh and I should mention that, with the nutrition tube explained, except for the color. It made sense to me why I was still having the need to poop.
At some point I rang the bell, and the 2 that were with the nurse who spoke to me above came. I needed the bed pan. They obliged me. It didn't feel right and I mentioned it to me. They said, I think gleefully, don't worry about it, if there's a mess we'll be the ones cleaning it.
Well I was right. Not only was it backwards, but one check was on and the other off. Yup SPILL IN AISLE 1. Was all in good nature.
I still remember some stern conversation from one Dr. with glasses and 2 of the nurses of the pulmonary sort. He really wanted me out of this room. I remember his yelling at the other Dr. as well from earlier, hope I covered that.
It was about me being out and taken off the respirator previously. Before the meeting with the disenchanted rugby woman. I still somehow thought that the room I was in was to be used somehow in an affair the hospital as having.
I think I nodded off.
Saturday, June 16, 2012
After much debate the respirator is removed.
Whether it was just the fruition of my own apprehension, or an actual get me out of this room discussion. It seemed they wanted me off the respirator and out of the room. They came and took ex rays of my lungs and such and decided to remove it, after a second set of ex rays actually. Where technically the female rugby drop out of a technician sort of roughed me up. Pulled me forward slid plate behind, when done, took plate and sort of just let me fall back heavily. This knocked the tube in my mouth and nose a bit. In fact I recall something being broken.
Look, I'm not going into the respirator removal. Yes it is a little unpleasant, but hell it's just plain wonderful to have it out.
The concern was now to have me breath normally. Somehow this was not a thing I comprehended easily. Not to fast, not to slow, "you don't want to have to go back on..." they said.
So for awhile I was concerned with every little breath I took. Go figure. Speech was slightly possible, raw of throat, exhaustion, and of course remembering to breathe. I was under observation for awhile. Breathing as normally as I thought I could. People of medical aspects came and went. I breathed.
They even began leaving my hands untied, while they were about me, which was nice. I'd become so accustomed that I'd remind them to tie them when they'd leave. Breathing was getting easier to master. Memories and the time line are going to blur together for me a bit. I'm going to stop here.
Look, I'm not going into the respirator removal. Yes it is a little unpleasant, but hell it's just plain wonderful to have it out.
The concern was now to have me breath normally. Somehow this was not a thing I comprehended easily. Not to fast, not to slow, "you don't want to have to go back on..." they said.
So for awhile I was concerned with every little breath I took. Go figure. Speech was slightly possible, raw of throat, exhaustion, and of course remembering to breathe. I was under observation for awhile. Breathing as normally as I thought I could. People of medical aspects came and went. I breathed.
They even began leaving my hands untied, while they were about me, which was nice. I'd become so accustomed that I'd remind them to tie them when they'd leave. Breathing was getting easier to master. Memories and the time line are going to blur together for me a bit. I'm going to stop here.
Observations.
I sit here, actually wondering how I can recall so much of this clearly. This is unusual for me. Oh and we've passed my year anniversary of this said surgery. I will say I'm enjoying putting this down. Though the timeline may seem off, it does for me.
The memories of what transpired are still there. And it gets better. Understand I don't mean to say I think on this every day. As a writer, or a frustrated writer, I do love a story. Stories that go unwritten always stay with me, until the end. Maybe this is why I have retained so much of this. I am enjoying writing this and hope some one will read, and maybe even find it useful or entertaining at the least.
The memories of what transpired are still there. And it gets better. Understand I don't mean to say I think on this every day. As a writer, or a frustrated writer, I do love a story. Stories that go unwritten always stay with me, until the end. Maybe this is why I have retained so much of this. I am enjoying writing this and hope some one will read, and maybe even find it useful or entertaining at the least.
Friday, June 15, 2012
Moving along
The room seemed small. I must say that I believe this was my second week, of course there was no way to measure time. The crew that was there were terrific. Even trying to communicate with me. Perhaps it was all the anesthesia, I truly don't know.
Monitor was to my left. Door was my right. In front of me was wall and a flat screen television. To the left of the television I thought were windows and also on the left side.
Some pulmonary Dr.s and assistants came, there were talking about removing the respirator in a day or two. I was even given a board on which I tried to write. Normally my writing is chicken scratch, but with arms tied even worse. In my nose also was a tube, some vile green looking substance. I assume it was green, and I assumed it was mucus. It turned out to be a feeding thing, why that color I'll never know. But grossed me out immensely. It also answers why I was pooping so much. Bless my body and the way it is.
I recall one day a woman walking through, she was not a nurse. Seemed annoyed I was in the room and one of the nurses commented on it. She came back and I vaguely recall that she was stern. Something about how she was in charge of an event that was happening and it was a mass benefit to the hospital and such. She wanted me out of my room. Another oddity, I remember a UPS driver. Now no UPS driver would be making deliveries to ICU, but it was for the event. Weirder still, I thought it was the dude that comes to my work site.
No I never asked, it made no sense. See I work 20 minutes from the hospital, in another county, and he would not be there. It was then I saw the dude with glasses, no not mine, he wore glasses. Wanted to know why I was there and had not been removed from the respirator. I didn't much like him. He seemed to yell at the head pulmonary Dr. and I thought I heard yelling. Later there was a heavy set man at the monitors on my left. He was doing something with my monitors. In my mind erasing history, but I'm not sure. There was some more lively discussion about my coming off the respirator.
Monitor was to my left. Door was my right. In front of me was wall and a flat screen television. To the left of the television I thought were windows and also on the left side.
Some pulmonary Dr.s and assistants came, there were talking about removing the respirator in a day or two. I was even given a board on which I tried to write. Normally my writing is chicken scratch, but with arms tied even worse. In my nose also was a tube, some vile green looking substance. I assume it was green, and I assumed it was mucus. It turned out to be a feeding thing, why that color I'll never know. But grossed me out immensely. It also answers why I was pooping so much. Bless my body and the way it is.
I recall one day a woman walking through, she was not a nurse. Seemed annoyed I was in the room and one of the nurses commented on it. She came back and I vaguely recall that she was stern. Something about how she was in charge of an event that was happening and it was a mass benefit to the hospital and such. She wanted me out of my room. Another oddity, I remember a UPS driver. Now no UPS driver would be making deliveries to ICU, but it was for the event. Weirder still, I thought it was the dude that comes to my work site.
No I never asked, it made no sense. See I work 20 minutes from the hospital, in another county, and he would not be there. It was then I saw the dude with glasses, no not mine, he wore glasses. Wanted to know why I was there and had not been removed from the respirator. I didn't much like him. He seemed to yell at the head pulmonary Dr. and I thought I heard yelling. Later there was a heavy set man at the monitors on my left. He was doing something with my monitors. In my mind erasing history, but I'm not sure. There was some more lively discussion about my coming off the respirator.
And it continues....
The blond nurse, not sure if I've mentioned her before. I was in a little more of a ward environment, in my fogginess. She'd deliver the message. At times she'd brush my teeth, apparently some sort of pneumonia prevention. I can recall, oddly, the need of a bed pan. In fact on my brother in law and sisters second visit, I was desperately trying to use it. I remember being told they were outside. Not sure of anything else.
Now this must surely be fog, but it is my memory. The blond woman was watching another nurses 2 kids at her station. Needing attention and bed pan, I was denied. I sunk into another abyss.
I awoke in a war torn place in my bed. It felt like an office building. There were windows, I was sure war. On either side stood nurses in what I was sure was Mideastern garb. For some reason I felt I'd been convicted wrongly and they were going to give me a vasectomy. I was frightened as none spoke to me. At some point I recall being....rescued.
I awoke in a new room. Solitary again. But this was newer and the nurses spoke to me. As I've stated, try as I could to communicate, they simply couldn't understand me with the respirator in. This must have been my second week in either CCU or ICU. But they were friendly. In fact I remember one being aghast that I'd not been cleaned at all and took the time to do that. I was gratefully.
I had a nurse stationed outside of my room. I was now beginning to actually sleep, the sinking sensation had slowly, reluctantly begun to loose its grip upon me. Still without my glasses. Lots of blurs. This is what I seemed to know of my surroundings.
I was in a ward type. There was a desk outside, and something that seemed to resemble a walk in fridge beyond that. I began to think there was ice cream there. Odd huh? Still confined to bed, couldn't see, respirator, but glad the sinking had abated.
Now this must surely be fog, but it is my memory. The blond woman was watching another nurses 2 kids at her station. Needing attention and bed pan, I was denied. I sunk into another abyss.
I awoke in a war torn place in my bed. It felt like an office building. There were windows, I was sure war. On either side stood nurses in what I was sure was Mideastern garb. For some reason I felt I'd been convicted wrongly and they were going to give me a vasectomy. I was frightened as none spoke to me. At some point I recall being....rescued.
I awoke in a new room. Solitary again. But this was newer and the nurses spoke to me. As I've stated, try as I could to communicate, they simply couldn't understand me with the respirator in. This must have been my second week in either CCU or ICU. But they were friendly. In fact I remember one being aghast that I'd not been cleaned at all and took the time to do that. I was gratefully.
I had a nurse stationed outside of my room. I was now beginning to actually sleep, the sinking sensation had slowly, reluctantly begun to loose its grip upon me. Still without my glasses. Lots of blurs. This is what I seemed to know of my surroundings.
I was in a ward type. There was a desk outside, and something that seemed to resemble a walk in fridge beyond that. I began to think there was ice cream there. Odd huh? Still confined to bed, couldn't see, respirator, but glad the sinking had abated.
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Through the wabbit hole.....
I changed rooms yet again. This time however, I had a back story. I was on the main street of my town and went to the Dr.'s office. The building of course being across the street from my Dr. in actuality, actually across and down to the north a little I think.
It was dark. The floor had running lights, cordoned off from the chairs in the waiting room. I was going to be left here. I panicked a tad.
In the land of coherence and reality, something was going on around me. Desperately in the same dark room I tried to communicate with the nurse I could see behind me. The is no coherence for speaking with a tube down your throat. The nurse was a soft faced woman with glasses, not the blond yet, frizzy hair and truly tried to understand.
Panicked as I was. I needed to know where I was. I needed to be in a hospital. Not left in an office that closes for the night. I tried to convey where was I? Can I see some ID so I can at least rest. The woman did her best. She had no idea what I was going through but she was calming, just doing her rounds I reckon now. I was however terrified.
My surroundings were unfamiliar. I was convinced I was in an office. And I wanted out. I must've just plain tired myself out and sunk into that abyss that I'd been going to, in a wonderfully terrified state.
I'm going to end it here. The next set needs a little set up I think. We are far from over yet.
It was dark. The floor had running lights, cordoned off from the chairs in the waiting room. I was going to be left here. I panicked a tad.
In the land of coherence and reality, something was going on around me. Desperately in the same dark room I tried to communicate with the nurse I could see behind me. The is no coherence for speaking with a tube down your throat. The nurse was a soft faced woman with glasses, not the blond yet, frizzy hair and truly tried to understand.
Panicked as I was. I needed to know where I was. I needed to be in a hospital. Not left in an office that closes for the night. I tried to convey where was I? Can I see some ID so I can at least rest. The woman did her best. She had no idea what I was going through but she was calming, just doing her rounds I reckon now. I was however terrified.
My surroundings were unfamiliar. I was convinced I was in an office. And I wanted out. I must've just plain tired myself out and sunk into that abyss that I'd been going to, in a wonderfully terrified state.
I'm going to end it here. The next set needs a little set up I think. We are far from over yet.
Foggy dreamins.....
Might I mention I've no idea if there was a television in my rooms yet or if one was even on. The dream of the 'toilet' room was of course odd. On a spaceship. Piloted by rabbits. Evil rabbits. No can't remember if I was one of them. But they had the notable goal of wanting to....ready for it.....take over the world.
Also of note, they moved in slow motion. For those would understand the reference, kind of like 6 million dollar man slow, just when he began to run, and they'd give you that music to kind of say 'HEY BIONIC MAN IS RUNNING'. Anyway.
No conclusion, started to try to fight the sinking sensation more, to no avail. Back to another room. Quite frankly I do still believe I was moved quite a bit. At first seemed to be the room with 4 beds, now 2. Some sort of foggy dream of party or gala going on downstairs. There was a pool outside my window, can still vaguely recall it.
Like one of those resort balconies almost. But was an elevator. I know it was a club scene because of the music and my actually descending through this place.
At some point, had to be the weekend, my brother in law and sister apparently visited me. I was still so foggy. The only part I recall is giving her the finger on the way out. A personal thing. According to her she was tickling my tied down arm in order to get a reaction from me. She also wanted a thumbs up.
The thumbs up was a personal thing between me and my parents. I guess even my subconscious knew that I wasn't going to give them that. Of course my brother in law assured my sister that I gave them a thumbs up as he wheeled her away, but she didn't see it. I don't recall that, the finger yes, that I recall. As I said my daily contact was that annoying message, didn't change, and one nurse I'll cover next entry, said in a heinously mocking way. So it didn't cheer me at all.
Dang I've time this morning, and this stuff is flowing. Just for noting, it was somewhere near 4 in the morning when I started up again here. Not what ever time they offer.
Also of note, they moved in slow motion. For those would understand the reference, kind of like 6 million dollar man slow, just when he began to run, and they'd give you that music to kind of say 'HEY BIONIC MAN IS RUNNING'. Anyway.
No conclusion, started to try to fight the sinking sensation more, to no avail. Back to another room. Quite frankly I do still believe I was moved quite a bit. At first seemed to be the room with 4 beds, now 2. Some sort of foggy dream of party or gala going on downstairs. There was a pool outside my window, can still vaguely recall it.
Like one of those resort balconies almost. But was an elevator. I know it was a club scene because of the music and my actually descending through this place.
At some point, had to be the weekend, my brother in law and sister apparently visited me. I was still so foggy. The only part I recall is giving her the finger on the way out. A personal thing. According to her she was tickling my tied down arm in order to get a reaction from me. She also wanted a thumbs up.
The thumbs up was a personal thing between me and my parents. I guess even my subconscious knew that I wasn't going to give them that. Of course my brother in law assured my sister that I gave them a thumbs up as he wheeled her away, but she didn't see it. I don't recall that, the finger yes, that I recall. As I said my daily contact was that annoying message, didn't change, and one nurse I'll cover next entry, said in a heinously mocking way. So it didn't cheer me at all.
Dang I've time this morning, and this stuff is flowing. Just for noting, it was somewhere near 4 in the morning when I started up again here. Not what ever time they offer.
What dreams may come.....
Without my glasses, unable to communicate with a respirator tube down my throat, I peered out of the anesthetic. No recollection at all of the recovery room. Like a floater on a fishing line that at the waters surface I came and went.
First memories. I would literally sink a feeling I loathe when over tired. I couldn't distinguish it at first but at some point I did. Consciousness, then the sinking feeling where I could feel myself even dropping 'through the floor' of myself. There was no fighting it or the dreams that came.
Seem to recall a room. 4 beds. I was the only patient. Slowly it seemed to become like an ante room to a club at the hospital. I can still recall the table to the upper right of me. (lying down, feet forward, just for atmosphere you know.) Even remember them leaving keys, some sort of tape, and knife that I wanted to keep. The room clears I'm watching the keys. Consciousness briefly.
At these points I felt helpless. Every day I'd get a message from my sister that said; "she loved me very much and missed me terribly" It was irritating and annoying and I couldn't stand it. This was my daily contact for awhile. I just wanted to be told information, couldn't ask because of tube down my throat. Couldn't write yet because of hands being tied, yes tied. To the side of each railing. Not tightly or painfully, just frustratingly enough later on.
They were necessary. No explanation was offered if I ever tried to disconnect myself. And if so, when they explained I was to mired in the fogs to discern it all.
At another point I awoke in a tiny room. Seemed disgusting, remember a presence. The room looked like it was under construction. Off not far to my left was a solitary toilet. Very weird.
I will end this post here. Think you are getting the flavor of it.
First memories. I would literally sink a feeling I loathe when over tired. I couldn't distinguish it at first but at some point I did. Consciousness, then the sinking feeling where I could feel myself even dropping 'through the floor' of myself. There was no fighting it or the dreams that came.
Seem to recall a room. 4 beds. I was the only patient. Slowly it seemed to become like an ante room to a club at the hospital. I can still recall the table to the upper right of me. (lying down, feet forward, just for atmosphere you know.) Even remember them leaving keys, some sort of tape, and knife that I wanted to keep. The room clears I'm watching the keys. Consciousness briefly.
At these points I felt helpless. Every day I'd get a message from my sister that said; "she loved me very much and missed me terribly" It was irritating and annoying and I couldn't stand it. This was my daily contact for awhile. I just wanted to be told information, couldn't ask because of tube down my throat. Couldn't write yet because of hands being tied, yes tied. To the side of each railing. Not tightly or painfully, just frustratingly enough later on.
They were necessary. No explanation was offered if I ever tried to disconnect myself. And if so, when they explained I was to mired in the fogs to discern it all.
At another point I awoke in a tiny room. Seemed disgusting, remember a presence. The room looked like it was under construction. Off not far to my left was a solitary toilet. Very weird.
I will end this post here. Think you are getting the flavor of it.
Monday, June 11, 2012
Before we begin...
What follows is some of the most haunting parts of my surgery. Haunting because I'm not always so sure what was and was not. I've done a bit of research and find no real good explanations.
I wish to put these things in order. This are just my recollections, with a good bit of fantasy around it. You will be able to tell, even though I shall point out which I thing is which.
There will be no discussion of pain, for I was not in pain or on pain medications. Nor will there be much....in the way of.....medical talk.
Let me start by saying my first 3 OPH surgeries, I ran extremely high temperatures because of the anesthesia. We're talking 104 range if I remember being told. My experiences were varied then.
The first I vaguely remember being there. Old fashioned ventilator, on which to this day I can still remember watching with fascination when I somehow got hiccups. Remember a older roommate named Barney, he'd had a bypass, be lieing to you if I told you I remembered how much. Cannot simply remember much more, don't think I stayed to long.
The second. This was under the auspices of my new pediatric cardiologist, whom I refer to as the butcher of my life. That is another story. He kept me in ICU for over a week. This was when hospitals didn't even have t.v. in rooms then. Best 2 memories there was that I was rarely alone. There was an amazing blue eyed baby named Tommy I think, all the nurses loved him. My surgeon, who did all 3 of my surgeries came to see me. I was chipper, a little anxious. I remember him smiling, saying we'll get you out of here, outside of the room yelling, "Get me, dumb asses name here, on the phone! There's no reason to have him in ICU over a week!" Bless that dude.
First 2 surgeries I was in the hospital minimum 4 months after surgery.
Third, I remember almost nothing. In and out of of the hospital a day to a week.
There are little memories I could recall I suppose. Friends, nurses vaguely. Myself being a wretched being I think. The excruciating boredom of a child being held in a hospital. Oh there is so much more, but I digress.
In conclusion I shall give you the best description I can of ICU as I remember it, and of course the rest of my stay. Until then.
I wish to put these things in order. This are just my recollections, with a good bit of fantasy around it. You will be able to tell, even though I shall point out which I thing is which.
There will be no discussion of pain, for I was not in pain or on pain medications. Nor will there be much....in the way of.....medical talk.
Let me start by saying my first 3 OPH surgeries, I ran extremely high temperatures because of the anesthesia. We're talking 104 range if I remember being told. My experiences were varied then.
The first I vaguely remember being there. Old fashioned ventilator, on which to this day I can still remember watching with fascination when I somehow got hiccups. Remember a older roommate named Barney, he'd had a bypass, be lieing to you if I told you I remembered how much. Cannot simply remember much more, don't think I stayed to long.
The second. This was under the auspices of my new pediatric cardiologist, whom I refer to as the butcher of my life. That is another story. He kept me in ICU for over a week. This was when hospitals didn't even have t.v. in rooms then. Best 2 memories there was that I was rarely alone. There was an amazing blue eyed baby named Tommy I think, all the nurses loved him. My surgeon, who did all 3 of my surgeries came to see me. I was chipper, a little anxious. I remember him smiling, saying we'll get you out of here, outside of the room yelling, "Get me, dumb asses name here, on the phone! There's no reason to have him in ICU over a week!" Bless that dude.
First 2 surgeries I was in the hospital minimum 4 months after surgery.
Third, I remember almost nothing. In and out of of the hospital a day to a week.
There are little memories I could recall I suppose. Friends, nurses vaguely. Myself being a wretched being I think. The excruciating boredom of a child being held in a hospital. Oh there is so much more, but I digress.
In conclusion I shall give you the best description I can of ICU as I remember it, and of course the rest of my stay. Until then.
Saturday, June 9, 2012
Day of Surgery
I was resigned to my fate. What would be would be. Nothing I could do to change the inevitable. Dr.s came and went. At one point they'd started to put me in a chair, which was fine. Sort of. Except one time.
Now mind you I was on 2 diuretics. I could now walk with help to the bathroom. In the chair my water logged body had done the memory foam and I had to go. I rang the bell. Nothing. Urgency pounded. I managed to free myself from the chair and rang again. Terror pulsed through me. Desperately I tried to find where my urinal was. Too late. Fluid poured forth, mostly into my slippers. I was slightly humiliated and waited for the nurses. They came, seemed there was an emergency situation down the hall. They apologized profusely. I asked them to just chuck out the slippers and got back into bed after the cleaning.
Not sure how many days it was until surgery. But the night before came. Signed the obligatory paper work, took inventory of my belongings and waited for the morning.
Of all 3 of my previous surgeries I remember vague things being wheeled out. The first was the tearfulness with parents. I went to the waiting area. I remember being wheeled towards the O.R. Man with black shoes reading a newspaper and I blacked out.
The second was more fun. I'd made it all the way onto the O.R. table. I began to panic and kept wanting someone to speak to me. I was terrified they were going to start. I became more and more frantic. Finally my old friend and anesthesiologist, Dr. Alvarez came over.
"John," he said in calming voice, "what's wrong?"
I was thrilled for the friendly face, I could tell his eyes and his mannerism.
"Dr. Alverez! I'm still awake they can't start the surgery!" I remember half rising.
Gently pushing my forehead down he calmed me. "John, we know when you are asleep and we know when to start the surgery."
"Oh. okay," was all I replied and I was out.
The third. New Anesthesiologist. Nice guy. I just remember him saying we are going to put you asleep now are you ready. I extended a hand to a nurse, sharp, maybe cold across my chest and I was out.
This time I don't even remember leaving the hallway.
Now mind you I was on 2 diuretics. I could now walk with help to the bathroom. In the chair my water logged body had done the memory foam and I had to go. I rang the bell. Nothing. Urgency pounded. I managed to free myself from the chair and rang again. Terror pulsed through me. Desperately I tried to find where my urinal was. Too late. Fluid poured forth, mostly into my slippers. I was slightly humiliated and waited for the nurses. They came, seemed there was an emergency situation down the hall. They apologized profusely. I asked them to just chuck out the slippers and got back into bed after the cleaning.
Not sure how many days it was until surgery. But the night before came. Signed the obligatory paper work, took inventory of my belongings and waited for the morning.
Of all 3 of my previous surgeries I remember vague things being wheeled out. The first was the tearfulness with parents. I went to the waiting area. I remember being wheeled towards the O.R. Man with black shoes reading a newspaper and I blacked out.
The second was more fun. I'd made it all the way onto the O.R. table. I began to panic and kept wanting someone to speak to me. I was terrified they were going to start. I became more and more frantic. Finally my old friend and anesthesiologist, Dr. Alvarez came over.
"John," he said in calming voice, "what's wrong?"
I was thrilled for the friendly face, I could tell his eyes and his mannerism.
"Dr. Alverez! I'm still awake they can't start the surgery!" I remember half rising.
Gently pushing my forehead down he calmed me. "John, we know when you are asleep and we know when to start the surgery."
"Oh. okay," was all I replied and I was out.
The third. New Anesthesiologist. Nice guy. I just remember him saying we are going to put you asleep now are you ready. I extended a hand to a nurse, sharp, maybe cold across my chest and I was out.
This time I don't even remember leaving the hallway.
Arrival
After the 40 minute ride we were in the parking garage. Long slow treacherous walk. On the main floor we found a wheelchair for me. I'd basically sat so long that I conformed to its shape and was in discomfort. They called me in and made the realization that I needed to be admitted. Truthfully, not sure it would have been that way if they didn't make me sit in the wheel chair for a full 30 minutes before calling me. Long story short I was not making the class. Headed for emergency and bid the brother in law good day.
Was in a corner stall in ER for maybe 4 hours then they found me a bed in a CCU step down area. Must say that was the nicest room I'd had. It seemed larger than the usual ones. This stay I never got a window view at all, so was by the door. Fellow next to me was an older gentleman. Nice guy cannot recall his name. Was a retired financial advisor.
They had alarms on his bed if he tried to leave. He was good company, except at night where he tended to have a little delirium. Nothing out of the world, I honestly felt bad for him. He would call the attendants, and try to explain that the t.v. was on the floor. It wasn't of course. He was fine during the day. Night was the trigger. I think he would have liked to stay in touch, but I was in my own Hellish nightmare now.
I checked in at 191 lbs of weight, I've never been that heavy. They increased my water pill and started and IV of diuretic as well. Sleeping was hard, urinating the worst. I did no walking whatsoever now. Not even to the bathroom.
Okay here goes. I could barely move I became so bloated, but the diuretics were working. Basically I had to call the nurse, roll on my side and hang on for dear life whilst someone else held the urinal. Not my proudest moment, but it is what it is. I believe in 2 days I lost like 20 pounds of water, but was still pretty bloated.
Even must say I regained a slight appetite. They came for me to do a catherization. I vaguely remember making it to the cath lab. Passed out. Came to when it was over and they'd taken my hospital socks. Damn. Hospitals only give you so many of those damned things.
My surgery was put off til the next week, because of an emergency, which may factor in later in the tale. I informed who I could and waited for the weekend. No visitors, no nothing. T.V.; something resembling sleep; and lots of peeing.
Was in a corner stall in ER for maybe 4 hours then they found me a bed in a CCU step down area. Must say that was the nicest room I'd had. It seemed larger than the usual ones. This stay I never got a window view at all, so was by the door. Fellow next to me was an older gentleman. Nice guy cannot recall his name. Was a retired financial advisor.
They had alarms on his bed if he tried to leave. He was good company, except at night where he tended to have a little delirium. Nothing out of the world, I honestly felt bad for him. He would call the attendants, and try to explain that the t.v. was on the floor. It wasn't of course. He was fine during the day. Night was the trigger. I think he would have liked to stay in touch, but I was in my own Hellish nightmare now.
I checked in at 191 lbs of weight, I've never been that heavy. They increased my water pill and started and IV of diuretic as well. Sleeping was hard, urinating the worst. I did no walking whatsoever now. Not even to the bathroom.
Okay here goes. I could barely move I became so bloated, but the diuretics were working. Basically I had to call the nurse, roll on my side and hang on for dear life whilst someone else held the urinal. Not my proudest moment, but it is what it is. I believe in 2 days I lost like 20 pounds of water, but was still pretty bloated.
Even must say I regained a slight appetite. They came for me to do a catherization. I vaguely remember making it to the cath lab. Passed out. Came to when it was over and they'd taken my hospital socks. Damn. Hospitals only give you so many of those damned things.
My surgery was put off til the next week, because of an emergency, which may factor in later in the tale. I informed who I could and waited for the weekend. No visitors, no nothing. T.V.; something resembling sleep; and lots of peeing.
Friday, June 8, 2012
We are getting to the post.
Coffee good, that said let us begin. I made the rounds of informing friends and rest of family. Must admit I did the later on face book. My closest friends got phone calls, the others emails, before the face book post. Not a big fan of face book myself, that however, is a different matter all together.
It was definitely May. I rarely left the house. I couldn't. I could barely sit at the kitchen table. From the water retention, I literally became a memory foam like mattress. I conformed to everything I sat in. Will be a little important later. So it made difficult for company when I'd just have to leave to lay down.
The oddest reaction came from one an old friend, I'd actually met on the Internet. An odd duck, communication was sparse, this sort of sealed it.
In response to my email letting her know of the surgery I essentially got a response something to the point of "....I need to change my email address and will be in touch when that is done." Needless to say I didn't hold my breath. I was still cooking, had to eat after all, just required some help. I honestly didn't expect or receive much by way emotional support or any thing from the housemates. Some people are just strong and some are weak.
I still drove on occasion. With great difficulty. Was so swollen, even tried to visit a shop I frequented. Had to leave almost instantaneously, was so uncomfortable. Still feeling unreasonably cold. I slept as much as I could. Sitting up in bed, usually coughing and such. Spent time wanting by kidneys to piss more, astonished how little fluid they were putting out.
I received the call from the hospital. I would need to be there Monday at 7 A.M. for some sort of orientation, it was mandatory. Then come back on Tuesday to be admitted. I was like WHAT THE HELL. The ride I had was my brother in law. I was actually quite sketchy about his ability to drive that distance 2 days in a row. And be late for work!
I arranged with my admitting cardio dude to have a ruse, which I would not actually need, but I would be admitted on Monday. And the dye was cast. No actual nerves, just resignation to what had to be done. I could no longer stand living as I was.
It was a bleak and dreary existence. One where I was in and out of consciousness. Most of my time was spent in bed. That is very difficult for me. For the spring weather was gorgeous.
There were some other issues in the house I dealt with, I was still getting paid and making sure the house bills got paid. I'd even managed to get on housemates about putting in full amount of money. They'd been putting in just a little more than half what they were supposed to since November. I could no longer ignore this.
My sister tried her best, she's good intentions, just not the where with all to carry them out. They would usually be relegated to my brother in law. So I didn't ask for help. Okay next entry will be the hospital admission and some of the nitty gritty.
It was definitely May. I rarely left the house. I couldn't. I could barely sit at the kitchen table. From the water retention, I literally became a memory foam like mattress. I conformed to everything I sat in. Will be a little important later. So it made difficult for company when I'd just have to leave to lay down.
The oddest reaction came from one an old friend, I'd actually met on the Internet. An odd duck, communication was sparse, this sort of sealed it.
In response to my email letting her know of the surgery I essentially got a response something to the point of "....I need to change my email address and will be in touch when that is done." Needless to say I didn't hold my breath. I was still cooking, had to eat after all, just required some help. I honestly didn't expect or receive much by way emotional support or any thing from the housemates. Some people are just strong and some are weak.
I still drove on occasion. With great difficulty. Was so swollen, even tried to visit a shop I frequented. Had to leave almost instantaneously, was so uncomfortable. Still feeling unreasonably cold. I slept as much as I could. Sitting up in bed, usually coughing and such. Spent time wanting by kidneys to piss more, astonished how little fluid they were putting out.
I received the call from the hospital. I would need to be there Monday at 7 A.M. for some sort of orientation, it was mandatory. Then come back on Tuesday to be admitted. I was like WHAT THE HELL. The ride I had was my brother in law. I was actually quite sketchy about his ability to drive that distance 2 days in a row. And be late for work!
I arranged with my admitting cardio dude to have a ruse, which I would not actually need, but I would be admitted on Monday. And the dye was cast. No actual nerves, just resignation to what had to be done. I could no longer stand living as I was.
It was a bleak and dreary existence. One where I was in and out of consciousness. Most of my time was spent in bed. That is very difficult for me. For the spring weather was gorgeous.
There were some other issues in the house I dealt with, I was still getting paid and making sure the house bills got paid. I'd even managed to get on housemates about putting in full amount of money. They'd been putting in just a little more than half what they were supposed to since November. I could no longer ignore this.
My sister tried her best, she's good intentions, just not the where with all to carry them out. They would usually be relegated to my brother in law. So I didn't ask for help. Okay next entry will be the hospital admission and some of the nitty gritty.
Thursday, June 7, 2012
It was May.
At some point, after I met with my cardiologist, an appointment was made for me to meet the man he'd hand chosen for my surgeon. Little details I can still remember about the trip there. Same hospital I'd had the colonoscopy and such done, so some 40-50 miles away. No exact recollection, but at this point I'm sure I was an hour early. Knowing the hospital as I did, and knowing I needed close parking; time just to get to out of the car and into the building, I made sure I had time. It was still Hell.
I did not then have a scale in my house, but can assure that I was rolling with at better than 160lbs of weight. 10 of it water. My belly was now distended because of it. I found parking and began the arduous walk towards the building. It was not fun. I had the right building. Of course he was on the second floor, of course the elevator was in the middle of the dang building. Slowly I rolled.
The office was warm, it felt comfortable. Not like the usual hurry up and wait factory feel. The secretary was a sweetheart. I had to wait for the surgeon, I assured her it was not a problem. I met the man. Unsure of his age, not tall, a little heavy set. He examined me and we spoke in his office.
Understand I've only me, so these are my recollections. No one to come with me for this appointment. 2 beings I can say I always have faith in. Myself and when I fail, and I do often, God. No I'm not going religious here.
Basically the 30 year old valve was going. He did mention that he even wondered if it had been attached completely correctly. "We need to replace your mitral and I'm going to tweak your Tricuspid." No I never did ask about that. But I still draw a smile when I consider that a heart surgeon 'tweek's' a valve.
He asked if I had questions and I told him I had only one motto right then and there.
"I either want my old life back or I want the long nap." He didn't blink. He'd chosen my life apparently. Went over the seriousness and all that had to be done. I still don't remember much. I was resigned to the surgery. Probably asked a few questions I thought pertinent and got answers. Said goodbye and went to schedule the surgery with the receptionist. It would be June...well doesn't really matter and you will see why.
I made my way back to my car. Aghast when I realized I could have parked on the closer side of the building. My only thought was making it back to my car. It took forever. Stopping, breathing, resting, coughing. Sometimes all at once.
Vaguely I recall informing my immediate family; close friends; and my manager. Then I'm sure I promptly lay down for some sleep.
I did not then have a scale in my house, but can assure that I was rolling with at better than 160lbs of weight. 10 of it water. My belly was now distended because of it. I found parking and began the arduous walk towards the building. It was not fun. I had the right building. Of course he was on the second floor, of course the elevator was in the middle of the dang building. Slowly I rolled.
The office was warm, it felt comfortable. Not like the usual hurry up and wait factory feel. The secretary was a sweetheart. I had to wait for the surgeon, I assured her it was not a problem. I met the man. Unsure of his age, not tall, a little heavy set. He examined me and we spoke in his office.
Understand I've only me, so these are my recollections. No one to come with me for this appointment. 2 beings I can say I always have faith in. Myself and when I fail, and I do often, God. No I'm not going religious here.
Basically the 30 year old valve was going. He did mention that he even wondered if it had been attached completely correctly. "We need to replace your mitral and I'm going to tweak your Tricuspid." No I never did ask about that. But I still draw a smile when I consider that a heart surgeon 'tweek's' a valve.
He asked if I had questions and I told him I had only one motto right then and there.
"I either want my old life back or I want the long nap." He didn't blink. He'd chosen my life apparently. Went over the seriousness and all that had to be done. I still don't remember much. I was resigned to the surgery. Probably asked a few questions I thought pertinent and got answers. Said goodbye and went to schedule the surgery with the receptionist. It would be June...well doesn't really matter and you will see why.
I made my way back to my car. Aghast when I realized I could have parked on the closer side of the building. My only thought was making it back to my car. It took forever. Stopping, breathing, resting, coughing. Sometimes all at once.
Vaguely I recall informing my immediate family; close friends; and my manager. Then I'm sure I promptly lay down for some sleep.
Still have some time to write this morning.
For awhile afterwards, no I cannot discern what that means exactly, but it was more than 5 days. I was doing okay. I could move slowly. Had to stop often to catch breath and relax. Oddly the water build up gave me a hernia, which would often require me to lie on my side until it went away. I had to lie down often and can be damned difficult to do.
My condition was noticeably getting worse. Had some people that I spoke to upstairs that I'd known forever, kept them informed as well. Somehow I never failed at my job. Getting to and fro my car was quite a heroic effect.
My body was swelling. I no longer could even velcro my new balance at all. Don't get me wrong, I am flat footed, 4E, but my feet were even swollen now. Clothing became a small nightmare as well. At some point I actually had to adjust the steering wheel in my car to accommodate my legs. And I was actually lifting them slightly.
I have no idea except to say that it had to be in May or early April, I simply couldn't work any longer. I was now taking 50 to do morning bathroom rituals. Lifting legs over the tub was nightmarish. I would exauhstedly phase out. Work understood. Rare to say these days.
Just trust me on this guys. They did right by me and that is all I will say.
I cooked when I could, in a house of 3 grown assed adults I'm the main cook. Do not get me started. Just say they benefited and still do by the need of me to eat well. When we get to the hospital departure after the OPH remember what I say here. It will speak volumes.
Sundays. Generally go food shopping. Plan menu's, make sure sister doesn't spend entire budget on crap food. I simply could no longer do it. No energy and was just slowing the process down by hours.
Much of my time was spent lying in bed wishing the swelling in areas would go away. Sleeping. Then, then (not a typo) I began to develop a CHF cough and could no longer sleep lying down. It was simply a miserable time to wait for the end. No I never lost hope. But I was serious in my thinking, and can't remember if I recorded it previously so here goes again. I simply told the Surgeon, "I either want my life back, or I want the long nap," Now I have to remember to see if we covered the surgeon's appointment yet, dang.
Okay need to get this day rolling, going into work late for personal reasons.
My condition was noticeably getting worse. Had some people that I spoke to upstairs that I'd known forever, kept them informed as well. Somehow I never failed at my job. Getting to and fro my car was quite a heroic effect.
My body was swelling. I no longer could even velcro my new balance at all. Don't get me wrong, I am flat footed, 4E, but my feet were even swollen now. Clothing became a small nightmare as well. At some point I actually had to adjust the steering wheel in my car to accommodate my legs. And I was actually lifting them slightly.
I have no idea except to say that it had to be in May or early April, I simply couldn't work any longer. I was now taking 50 to do morning bathroom rituals. Lifting legs over the tub was nightmarish. I would exauhstedly phase out. Work understood. Rare to say these days.
Just trust me on this guys. They did right by me and that is all I will say.
I cooked when I could, in a house of 3 grown assed adults I'm the main cook. Do not get me started. Just say they benefited and still do by the need of me to eat well. When we get to the hospital departure after the OPH remember what I say here. It will speak volumes.
Sundays. Generally go food shopping. Plan menu's, make sure sister doesn't spend entire budget on crap food. I simply could no longer do it. No energy and was just slowing the process down by hours.
Much of my time was spent lying in bed wishing the swelling in areas would go away. Sleeping. Then, then (not a typo) I began to develop a CHF cough and could no longer sleep lying down. It was simply a miserable time to wait for the end. No I never lost hope. But I was serious in my thinking, and can't remember if I recorded it previously so here goes again. I simply told the Surgeon, "I either want my life back, or I want the long nap," Now I have to remember to see if we covered the surgeon's appointment yet, dang.
Okay need to get this day rolling, going into work late for personal reasons.
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
little things I forgot in previous post.
Not all of them. Since I like the flavor of recording my history I do want to make it something I can look back in life and re-read. Since I do eventually expect to forget, and have forgotten many of the more minute details.
In the last room I had 1 more roommate, came in at night via some private ambulance company. With.......YET ANOTHER URINARY INFECTION and of course sharing my bathroom. Well I'd had enough.
Quickly I went out to speak with one of the nurses. Nice thing about them, they see alot of shit we never do and can answer questions, no matter the nature.
"Excuse me..." I asked shyly of a nurse I was familiar with.
"What's up John?"
"I don't want to seem odd. But this is my third roommate with a Urinary Infection."
She smiled warmly and I went on. "I never knew men could get them. And how catchy are these things?!"
"She laughed, "They're fairly common and no if they were contagious they'd be in a separate room." I thanked her and went on my way.
Let me now also say this. The hospital had awesome food, in the rooms. The kitchen was open from 7 A.M. until 7 P.M. And the food was really quite good. Hell if you can eat salmon twice a day it'd better be good. Favorite thing in the morning was their yogurt parfait with granola on top. I'd also learned to stop trying to order coffee, I don't do decaf. I drank tea.
At the time I adored all the items, also top of the list was their veggie burger on a whole wheat roll. And their turkey burger was quite good as well. Now how often do you ever hear someone saying hospital food is good, well this stuff was and still is. Every room came with a paper menu to order from and it was fantastic. My only issue was the day after the procedure. Had to have a nurse call to tell them I was off the, can't think of the name list, but basically that I could now eat!
In the last room I had 1 more roommate, came in at night via some private ambulance company. With.......YET ANOTHER URINARY INFECTION and of course sharing my bathroom. Well I'd had enough.
Quickly I went out to speak with one of the nurses. Nice thing about them, they see alot of shit we never do and can answer questions, no matter the nature.
"Excuse me..." I asked shyly of a nurse I was familiar with.
"What's up John?"
"I don't want to seem odd. But this is my third roommate with a Urinary Infection."
She smiled warmly and I went on. "I never knew men could get them. And how catchy are these things?!"
"She laughed, "They're fairly common and no if they were contagious they'd be in a separate room." I thanked her and went on my way.
Let me now also say this. The hospital had awesome food, in the rooms. The kitchen was open from 7 A.M. until 7 P.M. And the food was really quite good. Hell if you can eat salmon twice a day it'd better be good. Favorite thing in the morning was their yogurt parfait with granola on top. I'd also learned to stop trying to order coffee, I don't do decaf. I drank tea.
At the time I adored all the items, also top of the list was their veggie burger on a whole wheat roll. And their turkey burger was quite good as well. Now how often do you ever hear someone saying hospital food is good, well this stuff was and still is. Every room came with a paper menu to order from and it was fantastic. My only issue was the day after the procedure. Had to have a nurse call to tell them I was off the, can't think of the name list, but basically that I could now eat!
Some tests
Evening. Pleasant here tonight, had a nice dinner, got my bottle of seltzer and figured I'd get back to this thing.
I took the coallce; mixed the mixture with 2 bottles of Gatorade and checked into the hospital. This was going to be fun. Tests were tomorrow. Not a huge Gatorade lover, and I was allowed apple juice, of which I'm not a huge fan.
Towards the beginning of my decline I decided I needed to drink something a little different so I chose apple juice. Then one day in the case I noticed apple juice light. Said I to myself..."What the Hell!" The ingredients were the same. Seemed they just added water and called it light. Ripoff. Anyway.
I had an older dude for a roommate. Older gentleman, not sure about his age, had to be over six feet. Notable mainly because even I thought the toilets were a little low, thought how he must hate them. Would find out that he'd had some sort of heart surgery. He was also a life long smoker. Oh and he was cranky as all heck, some of the time.
He was also a C/O patient. Which stood for constant observation. So basically had a nurse in the room at all times. Not a bad thing. Became somewhat acquainted on my NUMEROUS trips to the bathroom. Couldn't help but eventually realize to my great horror, he wasn't much of a hand washer after his trips. Oh joy oh rapture.
Most notably he was rude and wanted out of the hospital. He also had some breathing medications to take quite often. He'd yell at many times "I CAN'T BREATH" and someone would have to call pulmonary. Caused a minor fracas with one of the dudes. Oh and he also brought his own meds from his home which were confiscated. Sorry I like details and since I got no visitors on my visits I studied my roomies.
He'd let the night watch nurses watch what they wanted and complain about it the next day. Saw his family once or twice, they wanted him moved closer. I felt badly for him. One time he started to do some walking and then they told him it was to much because they wouldn't let him get into rehab. What a racket. What the Hell is rehab for then. Well if you can walk 7 feet you can get in....but walk 8 and you obviously are healthy enough. We'll get to my own soon enough or maybe the next post. Think I'll do 2 tonight.
They'd doubled up my water pills and that was also helping, so I made the rounds, after the procedure. Anyway the worst part was the constant shitting. Night passed easily enough. They came for me the next morning. Had to leave glasses and such, did as I was bade. Down some corridors and into the area. Must say it had a nice feel to it. Even though it was probably as much as factory as the ICD test area. Met Dr.s, had defibrillator turned off. Into the room I went.
Cozy and warm. Some people wearing what I would call welder masks, made me laugh. The anesthesiologist asked if I'd had some sort of, preventative thing and was surprised when I said not to my knowledge. So through the I.V. line it went.
I became extremely itchy, at one moment laughed and said excuse me.
"I realize you're about to do the dirty to my arse but I need to scratch." Lifted the gown and did so. Told them I was getting itchier. Basically they tried to put in the 'fluid' to fast and that was the reaction. They slowed it and I felt better. They put me out for both procedures.
I awoke in recovery, asked if I wanted a newspaper I said yes please. Was told they'd discovered a couple of abrasions and a polyp in my stomach and they wanted to remove it, so day after tomorrow would have to be the day. I discussed medication and no one seemed alarmed by it. Long story shortened, it was nothing. Seems the potassium pills I was taking, one needs to when on water pills of high dosages, need to be had with a full stomach. That was my error.
My roommate James thought he was leaving, this was after the second procedure. Alas something was direly wrong with his breathing, the nurse basically saved his life by having someone look at him. Back to critical care unit for him. Another oddity was my phone would ring and people would ask for a Dr. somebody. I informed them he was not in my bed. Never got that figured out either.
Spent much of the week walking and talking with some nurses I'd become friendly with, kind of glad for the private room now. Problem with coumadin is when they take you off you go on heparin that takes forever for me and getting my blood stabilized.
New roommate. Some kid, never got his name. Came in with a urinary infection of some sort. And I got to share a bathroom with him. Wasn't there but a day or 2. He left and I still remained. Somewhere in the night, a nurse came in. They needed the room, there was a bed in another room, the man was leaving in a day and refused to be moved. So I obliged. Nice guy, we talked a little. He also had plenty of visitors. Never got to see him leave to say goodbye, I was asleep.
Point of interest. On one of my numerous rounds of the ward I'd noticed 2 things. My room was now vacated and being cleaned furiously, never did asked what had happened. There were 2 people there the previous night and day. Most notably, everyone on the ward was now sporting these new orange socks. And I mean everyone found that most curious. Had made myself nice and cozy in my once again solitary room when a nurse came in with a pair of....yes....you got it....orange socks.
Seeing her eye me curiously I inquired, what they were. "They're compression socks. For people who don't get up and move. But you are always walking I don't know why the house Dr. ordered them for you."
Astonished I inquired "And when did he see me? Not a sole here all day unless he say my impression when walking. Seems he ordered them for the whole floor."
We both agreed I didn't need them.
I was released, the rest actually did me some good. Had some of my old energy back, fluids more back in control. They did give me something called lovinox to inject myself with to help with the blood thinning. And that was a wrap.
I took the coallce; mixed the mixture with 2 bottles of Gatorade and checked into the hospital. This was going to be fun. Tests were tomorrow. Not a huge Gatorade lover, and I was allowed apple juice, of which I'm not a huge fan.
Towards the beginning of my decline I decided I needed to drink something a little different so I chose apple juice. Then one day in the case I noticed apple juice light. Said I to myself..."What the Hell!" The ingredients were the same. Seemed they just added water and called it light. Ripoff. Anyway.
I had an older dude for a roommate. Older gentleman, not sure about his age, had to be over six feet. Notable mainly because even I thought the toilets were a little low, thought how he must hate them. Would find out that he'd had some sort of heart surgery. He was also a life long smoker. Oh and he was cranky as all heck, some of the time.
He was also a C/O patient. Which stood for constant observation. So basically had a nurse in the room at all times. Not a bad thing. Became somewhat acquainted on my NUMEROUS trips to the bathroom. Couldn't help but eventually realize to my great horror, he wasn't much of a hand washer after his trips. Oh joy oh rapture.
Most notably he was rude and wanted out of the hospital. He also had some breathing medications to take quite often. He'd yell at many times "I CAN'T BREATH" and someone would have to call pulmonary. Caused a minor fracas with one of the dudes. Oh and he also brought his own meds from his home which were confiscated. Sorry I like details and since I got no visitors on my visits I studied my roomies.
He'd let the night watch nurses watch what they wanted and complain about it the next day. Saw his family once or twice, they wanted him moved closer. I felt badly for him. One time he started to do some walking and then they told him it was to much because they wouldn't let him get into rehab. What a racket. What the Hell is rehab for then. Well if you can walk 7 feet you can get in....but walk 8 and you obviously are healthy enough. We'll get to my own soon enough or maybe the next post. Think I'll do 2 tonight.
They'd doubled up my water pills and that was also helping, so I made the rounds, after the procedure. Anyway the worst part was the constant shitting. Night passed easily enough. They came for me the next morning. Had to leave glasses and such, did as I was bade. Down some corridors and into the area. Must say it had a nice feel to it. Even though it was probably as much as factory as the ICD test area. Met Dr.s, had defibrillator turned off. Into the room I went.
Cozy and warm. Some people wearing what I would call welder masks, made me laugh. The anesthesiologist asked if I'd had some sort of, preventative thing and was surprised when I said not to my knowledge. So through the I.V. line it went.
I became extremely itchy, at one moment laughed and said excuse me.
"I realize you're about to do the dirty to my arse but I need to scratch." Lifted the gown and did so. Told them I was getting itchier. Basically they tried to put in the 'fluid' to fast and that was the reaction. They slowed it and I felt better. They put me out for both procedures.
I awoke in recovery, asked if I wanted a newspaper I said yes please. Was told they'd discovered a couple of abrasions and a polyp in my stomach and they wanted to remove it, so day after tomorrow would have to be the day. I discussed medication and no one seemed alarmed by it. Long story shortened, it was nothing. Seems the potassium pills I was taking, one needs to when on water pills of high dosages, need to be had with a full stomach. That was my error.
My roommate James thought he was leaving, this was after the second procedure. Alas something was direly wrong with his breathing, the nurse basically saved his life by having someone look at him. Back to critical care unit for him. Another oddity was my phone would ring and people would ask for a Dr. somebody. I informed them he was not in my bed. Never got that figured out either.
Spent much of the week walking and talking with some nurses I'd become friendly with, kind of glad for the private room now. Problem with coumadin is when they take you off you go on heparin that takes forever for me and getting my blood stabilized.
New roommate. Some kid, never got his name. Came in with a urinary infection of some sort. And I got to share a bathroom with him. Wasn't there but a day or 2. He left and I still remained. Somewhere in the night, a nurse came in. They needed the room, there was a bed in another room, the man was leaving in a day and refused to be moved. So I obliged. Nice guy, we talked a little. He also had plenty of visitors. Never got to see him leave to say goodbye, I was asleep.
Point of interest. On one of my numerous rounds of the ward I'd noticed 2 things. My room was now vacated and being cleaned furiously, never did asked what had happened. There were 2 people there the previous night and day. Most notably, everyone on the ward was now sporting these new orange socks. And I mean everyone found that most curious. Had made myself nice and cozy in my once again solitary room when a nurse came in with a pair of....yes....you got it....orange socks.
Seeing her eye me curiously I inquired, what they were. "They're compression socks. For people who don't get up and move. But you are always walking I don't know why the house Dr. ordered them for you."
Astonished I inquired "And when did he see me? Not a sole here all day unless he say my impression when walking. Seems he ordered them for the whole floor."
We both agreed I didn't need them.
I was released, the rest actually did me some good. Had some of my old energy back, fluids more back in control. They did give me something called lovinox to inject myself with to help with the blood thinning. And that was a wrap.
The But Dr. and I
I had made an early appointment, hoping for close parking. The area was one that I was not at all familiar with so was a little trepidatious. Made with plenty of time to spare. Now I searched for parking. It had become critical for me to get close parking, because of how much energy it simply took me to move.
Long story short I got a spot and it took about 10 minutes to enter the building. Tired, feeling like I was rolling, onward I went. Of course I didn't realize the But Dr. was on the opposite side. The building was nice, sort of open, and had benches to rest.
She was a very nice But Dr. She smiled and said asked if I remembered we'd met in the ER. I said yes and countered with "As I said I was waiting on word from my cardio dude. When he said I needed this I presented your card and he said you were the one I was to go to".
She smiled and laughed. Because of my coumadin this was not an outpatient procedure. All the details were gone over. Said I,
"2 things. Endoscopy, wouldn't it be so much more reasonable sounding for the colonoscopy? Also, and this is integral Dr." I felt at ease because she listened and smiled to my silliness. She laughed at the next item.
"Okay, tell me....Do they use 2 different tubes for the endoscopy and colonoscopy? If do I get a say in which goes first."
I'm always happy when a Dr., especially a But Dr. can laugh. Makes them seem less....odd?
"No....." she assured me, "They are 2 very different tubes. The endoscopy tube is much shorter."
I didn't want to ask the cliched question and just assumed she'd been asked this all before. Very pleasant. We would most likely do this in the next week, of course a hospital visit to take me off coumadin. 2-3 days at the most. I knew better. I stopped at the window to get my marching orders on the test prep.
For those of you no of age, prep for the most part is for the colonoscopy, you pick up some powder, must mix it with Gatorade, the most recommended. And apparently a stool softener. This worried me most. The Gatorade would coincide with me in the hospital. But never heard of a stool softener. Since I would be driving myself I was concerned about driving the 40 or so miles. They asss-ured me (misspelling left on purpose) that would not be an issue. And I prepared for the next week.
I cannot remember what day this all was. Informed my manager and then my cardio dude.
Long story short I got a spot and it took about 10 minutes to enter the building. Tired, feeling like I was rolling, onward I went. Of course I didn't realize the But Dr. was on the opposite side. The building was nice, sort of open, and had benches to rest.
She was a very nice But Dr. She smiled and said asked if I remembered we'd met in the ER. I said yes and countered with "As I said I was waiting on word from my cardio dude. When he said I needed this I presented your card and he said you were the one I was to go to".
She smiled and laughed. Because of my coumadin this was not an outpatient procedure. All the details were gone over. Said I,
"2 things. Endoscopy, wouldn't it be so much more reasonable sounding for the colonoscopy? Also, and this is integral Dr." I felt at ease because she listened and smiled to my silliness. She laughed at the next item.
"Okay, tell me....Do they use 2 different tubes for the endoscopy and colonoscopy? If do I get a say in which goes first."
I'm always happy when a Dr., especially a But Dr. can laugh. Makes them seem less....odd?
"No....." she assured me, "They are 2 very different tubes. The endoscopy tube is much shorter."
I didn't want to ask the cliched question and just assumed she'd been asked this all before. Very pleasant. We would most likely do this in the next week, of course a hospital visit to take me off coumadin. 2-3 days at the most. I knew better. I stopped at the window to get my marching orders on the test prep.
For those of you no of age, prep for the most part is for the colonoscopy, you pick up some powder, must mix it with Gatorade, the most recommended. And apparently a stool softener. This worried me most. The Gatorade would coincide with me in the hospital. But never heard of a stool softener. Since I would be driving myself I was concerned about driving the 40 or so miles. They asss-ured me (misspelling left on purpose) that would not be an issue. And I prepared for the next week.
I cannot remember what day this all was. Informed my manager and then my cardio dude.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Slowing down
I informed my manager as best I could, and just kept going. I managed to get an appointment fairly quickly. The place was a good 45 minutes away from me.
Physically I was truly looking poorly. No color in my face. Walking any kind of distance tired me and forced me to stop. Just because of the heart and the water retention. Some how I also got a hernia. Which is slightly resolved with me now. It did require me to lie down at times and let it pop back in.
My routines were also changing. Where as I normally do my mornings in 15-30 min increments, this was changing because of my physical exhaustion. I was now preparing the bathroom for my shower. Preparing? Yes!
Typical shower tub set up. It was taking an incredible amount of energy to lift my legs which were gathering water. I was tired. I'd get in the shower slowly, upon exiting, very carefully I'd promptly sit on the stool. Where I'd pretty much do everything sitting down. For me a shower is about 10 min; old memories of actually being timed "We've got a cesspool dammit" my dad would yell. 10-15 to do the rest.
I was now becoming lethargic. Often not so much out of breath but literally just sitting there gazing into nothing. It was surreal. Then had to unpack bathroom, slowly put stuff away. I can only say it must have looked like a person walking underwater. I did not have the energy or spunk I once had. And it would get much worse.
The other thing that was happening was my appetite. It abandoned me. Literally I forced myself to eat just because I had the where with all to know I needed it. Breakfast; lunch were struggles. I forged on. Think it was then I started with the iron pills as prescribed by my GP Dr. poodle head. ODD I CAN REMEMBER ALL THIS BUT AS IT SAYS IN THE LABELS THE DATING MAY BE OFF. BUT THE DETAILS ARE NOT. WISH NOW I'D DONE THIS SOONER, BUT THEN YOU WILL UNDERSTAND IN LATER ENTRIES WHY NOT.
At work I knew I was slower but hopefully not to perceptibly. Probably not until May when I just couldn't go in anymore. No one said anything. And to my co-workers credit, IF I needed help I received it without recrimination. I was very lucky. Never fowled up a project or even came close to missing one. But damn I was tiring. I'd even started to carry my cell phone. So that when I had to stop in the middle of the hallway to catch my breath I could pretend to be reading a text message. Of course my department knew better so I never did it in front of them. Basically I've an old flip phone that has lasted me 10 years or so. No camera, no texting, tiny antenna. Great reception. And Hell it's lasted, should I mention also that my bill never goes over $50 a month. Yeah I know great deal.
Dinners. Just the facts. The people I live with benefit from the fact that I must eat well. They can live on crap food like no tomorrow. So I generally cook. Some nights I'd simply be to beat so I'd call for help. Which I must say I received. My brother in law was helpful. Still does crap. But I think even then it was undeniable that I was in trouble. I started going to bed by 8 now. Hoping the water pills would just kick in.
Tomorrow with time, or maybe later tonight if I feel the urge I'll get on with the BUT Dr.
Physically I was truly looking poorly. No color in my face. Walking any kind of distance tired me and forced me to stop. Just because of the heart and the water retention. Some how I also got a hernia. Which is slightly resolved with me now. It did require me to lie down at times and let it pop back in.
My routines were also changing. Where as I normally do my mornings in 15-30 min increments, this was changing because of my physical exhaustion. I was now preparing the bathroom for my shower. Preparing? Yes!
Typical shower tub set up. It was taking an incredible amount of energy to lift my legs which were gathering water. I was tired. I'd get in the shower slowly, upon exiting, very carefully I'd promptly sit on the stool. Where I'd pretty much do everything sitting down. For me a shower is about 10 min; old memories of actually being timed "We've got a cesspool dammit" my dad would yell. 10-15 to do the rest.
I was now becoming lethargic. Often not so much out of breath but literally just sitting there gazing into nothing. It was surreal. Then had to unpack bathroom, slowly put stuff away. I can only say it must have looked like a person walking underwater. I did not have the energy or spunk I once had. And it would get much worse.
The other thing that was happening was my appetite. It abandoned me. Literally I forced myself to eat just because I had the where with all to know I needed it. Breakfast; lunch were struggles. I forged on. Think it was then I started with the iron pills as prescribed by my GP Dr. poodle head. ODD I CAN REMEMBER ALL THIS BUT AS IT SAYS IN THE LABELS THE DATING MAY BE OFF. BUT THE DETAILS ARE NOT. WISH NOW I'D DONE THIS SOONER, BUT THEN YOU WILL UNDERSTAND IN LATER ENTRIES WHY NOT.
At work I knew I was slower but hopefully not to perceptibly. Probably not until May when I just couldn't go in anymore. No one said anything. And to my co-workers credit, IF I needed help I received it without recrimination. I was very lucky. Never fowled up a project or even came close to missing one. But damn I was tiring. I'd even started to carry my cell phone. So that when I had to stop in the middle of the hallway to catch my breath I could pretend to be reading a text message. Of course my department knew better so I never did it in front of them. Basically I've an old flip phone that has lasted me 10 years or so. No camera, no texting, tiny antenna. Great reception. And Hell it's lasted, should I mention also that my bill never goes over $50 a month. Yeah I know great deal.
Dinners. Just the facts. The people I live with benefit from the fact that I must eat well. They can live on crap food like no tomorrow. So I generally cook. Some nights I'd simply be to beat so I'd call for help. Which I must say I received. My brother in law was helpful. Still does crap. But I think even then it was undeniable that I was in trouble. I started going to bed by 8 now. Hoping the water pills would just kick in.
Tomorrow with time, or maybe later tonight if I feel the urge I'll get on with the BUT Dr.
Monday, June 4, 2012
The Declination begins
Morning, about 5:30, have coffee, 30 min before I must start the day so let's begin.
I had my diagnosis. Made my appointment with my cardio dude. I had answers and answers. Also I did learn a few things. I was in CHF or Congestive Heart Failure.
My valve was failing, I'd had it replaced for the 3rd time in 1981 when I was fairly young.
This was the first major health crisis I ever had to face, and I was essentially alone in it. I'll leave it there and not indite my housemates. In the hospital I also learned that I was drinking too much fluid. See I'm always drinking, I believe that it cleanses the body. Tea, water, my much loved seltzer. Everything. Well I was now overwhelming my hearts capacity to pump the fluids.
I will say that I knew this somewhat, but just didn't make the connection. In being that I was not really putting out as much 'fluid' in the LOO as I was taking in. In a previous emergency appointment with my cardio I'd mentioned being tired, I looked anemic, and had been retaining water. He had put me on some sort of 'water pill'. Despise that we call it that now.
I really started to notice the effects. I was walking with more difficulty, out of breath. At the time I was wearing Velcro new balance, well I could no longer put the Velcro as far across my feet as I could. Clothing was becoming tighter. It was coming and I was unafraid.
I saw my cardio the first week in March. When I say I could go on for pages praising this man it is no joke. Maybe another time.
He was unhappy, both of us knew that when this day came it would not be pretty. But the valve had a long run. Literally would have been 30 years in the winter of 2011.
My valve was leaking badly. It was literally chopping up hemoglobin. The heart could not function as well. Thus it was compensating, the fluid it could not handle it was putting in different parts of my body. By now I even had a slight distended stomach issue. I'll explain next time, my eating was not what it was.
He was taking no chances. First thing he wanted was for me to see a gastroentroenterologist. For my humor alone let's call her the But Dr. He was trying to think of the name. I handed him one of the cards from my ER visit and he said Yes! that's one. I of course said fine, but doc, how the Hell do you say her name?
I left and made my appointment with the But Dr.
Out of time. Coffee needs refiling and breakfast and getting ready. Oddly enough I've a cardio appointment this morn as well. Later.
I had my diagnosis. Made my appointment with my cardio dude. I had answers and answers. Also I did learn a few things. I was in CHF or Congestive Heart Failure.
My valve was failing, I'd had it replaced for the 3rd time in 1981 when I was fairly young.
This was the first major health crisis I ever had to face, and I was essentially alone in it. I'll leave it there and not indite my housemates. In the hospital I also learned that I was drinking too much fluid. See I'm always drinking, I believe that it cleanses the body. Tea, water, my much loved seltzer. Everything. Well I was now overwhelming my hearts capacity to pump the fluids.
I will say that I knew this somewhat, but just didn't make the connection. In being that I was not really putting out as much 'fluid' in the LOO as I was taking in. In a previous emergency appointment with my cardio I'd mentioned being tired, I looked anemic, and had been retaining water. He had put me on some sort of 'water pill'. Despise that we call it that now.
I really started to notice the effects. I was walking with more difficulty, out of breath. At the time I was wearing Velcro new balance, well I could no longer put the Velcro as far across my feet as I could. Clothing was becoming tighter. It was coming and I was unafraid.
I saw my cardio the first week in March. When I say I could go on for pages praising this man it is no joke. Maybe another time.
He was unhappy, both of us knew that when this day came it would not be pretty. But the valve had a long run. Literally would have been 30 years in the winter of 2011.
My valve was leaking badly. It was literally chopping up hemoglobin. The heart could not function as well. Thus it was compensating, the fluid it could not handle it was putting in different parts of my body. By now I even had a slight distended stomach issue. I'll explain next time, my eating was not what it was.
He was taking no chances. First thing he wanted was for me to see a gastroentroenterologist. For my humor alone let's call her the But Dr. He was trying to think of the name. I handed him one of the cards from my ER visit and he said Yes! that's one. I of course said fine, but doc, how the Hell do you say her name?
I left and made my appointment with the But Dr.
Out of time. Coffee needs refiling and breakfast and getting ready. Oddly enough I've a cardio appointment this morn as well. Later.
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Good Morning,
It is Sunday and I have my coffee and a little time before going food shopping for the week. Bright, Sunny and darned pleasant today already and it's only 8:20 in the morn.
Let me back track just a moment because this is important to the end story. The only Dr. in the ER overflow that I consistently saw I never officially met, barely saw. The only thing I knew about him for sure was that he was of the Jewish faith and that was because of the Yarmulke he wore. Just remember that okay.
Drank my concoction which lived up to it's promise. It tasted like a warm flat sprite that was bitter it never became coca cola. At some point there was some sort of hazardous warning label on the bathroom nearest me. Just imagine in a large ward trying to hold yourself together, while really having to.....Yeah you know. Cannot count the trips. They came for me with a wheel chair for the test. The shift nurse promised to have some late lunch for me upon my return, oh sweet lass, my stomach would be forever grateful.
After some long corridor rides we arrived at the cat scan lab. Where I was greeted by a cheerful woman. Who said I just needed to be taking 4 more mouthfuls of this stuff they had waiting. I declined and informed her that we would be delaying because I needed one more trip to the bathroom. Scared her unintentionally, by hoping out of the wheelchair, they like to put the feet rests up. But I had to. There is nothing really notable about that. Toilet story time over. Back to overflow room, wonderful nurse had lunch waiting on me. I ATE!
The purpose was to look at my gut and let's say groin, they were increasing in size. This would later be because of water retention. One Dr. came back and said the test showed no abnormalities, fine. The Cardio dude came back, looked concerned. Told me in the morning we'd be doing a TEE test. I knew that test.
Basically they sedate you, put a camera down your throat to get some pictures of the heart. Test is quick and painless. Called my house to let them know I was staying. A lot of "Why?" and "Whats taking so long?" questions were fielded.
Saturday came. The weekend holiday shift in the ER overflow was in effect. The head nurse was an unhappy young lady. I do wish to say that may just have been a bad weekend, rough time, I'm not sure. She was extremely competent, just not really there.
I went for an echo cardiogram. They decided to hit me with a nuclear dye that I needed to sign a release for. Why the Hell do they always do this when you're lying there and then surprised when you read the form!? Was told about how rare the possibility of allergic reaction and stuff was. But I was solid. They called another Dr. oops he'd also gone on vacation. I'm probably missing parts here, but this happened a lot this visit. Needless to say one was found, I signed the release, then relegated back to an emptier ER overflow.
Upon arrival the head nurse told me the next time I went to the, can we just say loo for comedy sake? Yes, because this is my blog thing-a-majig. Then next time I went to the LOO i was to provide a stool sample. I said why, she said because. Never happened.
At this time I went for the TEE test. Cardiologist stand in came in and told me about valve failing and such. Surgeon came in handed me a card, nice dude. Let me say this. Dr.s in Er's always seemed to have cards, I collected many. I told everyone that I would be meeting with my cardiologist for advice. I knew nothing was going to be done over a holiday weekend unless a dire emergency. Also I will not be pressured. Such as when the nice young lady came over recommending the colonoscopy, took her card to. Though I may have covered that.
Saturday night I was moved to an actual room. Slept, ordered food. Let me say this hospital actually has wonderful food for the rooms. Not so much ER. But then that says something I guess. In any case Sunday broke open.
I entertained a few shifts of nurses and had fun. Digested the news that I needed a 4th OPH surgery. Telling my family was not quite fun. After all, I have the onus of being the strong one and they the weak ones. The main highlight I can remember about Sunday is that someone asked me if I needed to wash and I said "HELL YES! PLEASE!" then a little calmer,"I've been in ER since Thursday and feel disgusting." Thankfully I was given wash cloths soap and hit the bathroom.
Monday I was feeling better when Dr. with the Yarmulke came in to see me. He introduced himself and told me he was in the ER. I said I remembered him. Well he said..."Basically all the admitting Dr.s that saw me were off on vacation. I wasn't sick. He didn't see the point of me being well and staying in the hospital until their return. And I could be released." I thanked him and called for a ride home.
It is Sunday and I have my coffee and a little time before going food shopping for the week. Bright, Sunny and darned pleasant today already and it's only 8:20 in the morn.
Let me back track just a moment because this is important to the end story. The only Dr. in the ER overflow that I consistently saw I never officially met, barely saw. The only thing I knew about him for sure was that he was of the Jewish faith and that was because of the Yarmulke he wore. Just remember that okay.
Drank my concoction which lived up to it's promise. It tasted like a warm flat sprite that was bitter it never became coca cola. At some point there was some sort of hazardous warning label on the bathroom nearest me. Just imagine in a large ward trying to hold yourself together, while really having to.....Yeah you know. Cannot count the trips. They came for me with a wheel chair for the test. The shift nurse promised to have some late lunch for me upon my return, oh sweet lass, my stomach would be forever grateful.
After some long corridor rides we arrived at the cat scan lab. Where I was greeted by a cheerful woman. Who said I just needed to be taking 4 more mouthfuls of this stuff they had waiting. I declined and informed her that we would be delaying because I needed one more trip to the bathroom. Scared her unintentionally, by hoping out of the wheelchair, they like to put the feet rests up. But I had to. There is nothing really notable about that. Toilet story time over. Back to overflow room, wonderful nurse had lunch waiting on me. I ATE!
The purpose was to look at my gut and let's say groin, they were increasing in size. This would later be because of water retention. One Dr. came back and said the test showed no abnormalities, fine. The Cardio dude came back, looked concerned. Told me in the morning we'd be doing a TEE test. I knew that test.
Basically they sedate you, put a camera down your throat to get some pictures of the heart. Test is quick and painless. Called my house to let them know I was staying. A lot of "Why?" and "Whats taking so long?" questions were fielded.
Saturday came. The weekend holiday shift in the ER overflow was in effect. The head nurse was an unhappy young lady. I do wish to say that may just have been a bad weekend, rough time, I'm not sure. She was extremely competent, just not really there.
I went for an echo cardiogram. They decided to hit me with a nuclear dye that I needed to sign a release for. Why the Hell do they always do this when you're lying there and then surprised when you read the form!? Was told about how rare the possibility of allergic reaction and stuff was. But I was solid. They called another Dr. oops he'd also gone on vacation. I'm probably missing parts here, but this happened a lot this visit. Needless to say one was found, I signed the release, then relegated back to an emptier ER overflow.
Upon arrival the head nurse told me the next time I went to the, can we just say loo for comedy sake? Yes, because this is my blog thing-a-majig. Then next time I went to the LOO i was to provide a stool sample. I said why, she said because. Never happened.
At this time I went for the TEE test. Cardiologist stand in came in and told me about valve failing and such. Surgeon came in handed me a card, nice dude. Let me say this. Dr.s in Er's always seemed to have cards, I collected many. I told everyone that I would be meeting with my cardiologist for advice. I knew nothing was going to be done over a holiday weekend unless a dire emergency. Also I will not be pressured. Such as when the nice young lady came over recommending the colonoscopy, took her card to. Though I may have covered that.
Saturday night I was moved to an actual room. Slept, ordered food. Let me say this hospital actually has wonderful food for the rooms. Not so much ER. But then that says something I guess. In any case Sunday broke open.
I entertained a few shifts of nurses and had fun. Digested the news that I needed a 4th OPH surgery. Telling my family was not quite fun. After all, I have the onus of being the strong one and they the weak ones. The main highlight I can remember about Sunday is that someone asked me if I needed to wash and I said "HELL YES! PLEASE!" then a little calmer,"I've been in ER since Thursday and feel disgusting." Thankfully I was given wash cloths soap and hit the bathroom.
Monday I was feeling better when Dr. with the Yarmulke came in to see me. He introduced himself and told me he was in the ER. I said I remembered him. Well he said..."Basically all the admitting Dr.s that saw me were off on vacation. I wasn't sick. He didn't see the point of me being well and staying in the hospital until their return. And I could be released." I thanked him and called for a ride home.
Saturday, June 2, 2012
February
m21 s20 s19 f18 th17 w16
May as well keep going, new cup of coffee.
Long month, let's just go with that. Had an appointment with my GP. Tuesday Feb 15 I had a long day at work. Skipped lunch, late appointment, round 6, didn't get to dinner beforehand.
She was so alarmed by how I looked she called my Cardiologist. I was without color, I looked and felt anemic. They double teamed me about getting myself into the E.R. Of course I couldn't totally agree. However I do what my cardio dude tells me to do. They wanted me to go that night I said not possible. Hospital where I wanted to go being a good fifty miles away. Never mind that I had to talk to my sister and brother in law.
Primarily, I told the Dr.s this. "I need to go home, pay the house bills, or they will not be paid. I will go to the E.R. tomorrow after I mail them."
I was not looking forward to E.R. Figured Thursday was soon enough before the holiday weekend, President's day, trust me it figures into the story. I paid the bills, called my friend/manager and explained the situation. Was on the road about 10 in the morning. Hit the post office and went to the hospital.
Ever been into an E.R., wish the answer for most was no. As a patient, not in critical condition, or believing themselves to be, it is no fun. You are put into what I call a curtain stall. Wall Behind you, curtains on your right and left with other people. Time passes most slowly and drearily. Especially when there are no people waiting for you.
Generally you are examined, people passing by. I was lucky enough to have a half delirious woman next to me. Who upon learning my first name called everyone that name. Quite often calling to me and asking to help here get her slippers on so she could leave.
It is quite noisy, there is no t.v. but a hustle and bustle. At some point some Dr.s come in, didn't all names. Met a lot of them including gastroenterologist, nice woman. We would meet again.
Somehow Friday was born and I was no being moved into a place called E.R. Overflow 1. a quieter hell.
It has been over a year, my memory on the events is quite good, just not always certain about day and time. Friday.....well I had a partial view of a clock, that didn't help. More and more Dr.s came in. I vaguely remember breakfast when another cardio dude came in. Firstly he knew mine, that helped. Was in contact, covering his patients as he was not on vacation, stubbornly I would only deal with my cardiologist who is not affiliated with the hospital anymore. He's moved onto one in NYC.
With my first bit of food in 24 hours having just been delivered, egg literally upon my fork halfway up to my mouth. He wanted to run some tests, dont' remember the 1, except that I had to drinking an awful preparation for it. I looked at him plainly and said,
"The only thing I want to know, mind you I've not eaten in a day, can I eat my breakfast!"
"I wouldn't recommend it." he said.
I asked the gentleman that brought it to take it away.
I'll spare the details, the prep was for a cat scan, checking for gut bleeding. The prep was along the lines of a....er.....colon cleanse. Ever have to take one of these in an E.R. Overflow room? 2 bathrooms.
i have reached my limit and must start my Saturday. More tomorrow, or if it is gray enough later, maybe later.
May as well keep going, new cup of coffee.
Long month, let's just go with that. Had an appointment with my GP. Tuesday Feb 15 I had a long day at work. Skipped lunch, late appointment, round 6, didn't get to dinner beforehand.
She was so alarmed by how I looked she called my Cardiologist. I was without color, I looked and felt anemic. They double teamed me about getting myself into the E.R. Of course I couldn't totally agree. However I do what my cardio dude tells me to do. They wanted me to go that night I said not possible. Hospital where I wanted to go being a good fifty miles away. Never mind that I had to talk to my sister and brother in law.
Primarily, I told the Dr.s this. "I need to go home, pay the house bills, or they will not be paid. I will go to the E.R. tomorrow after I mail them."
I was not looking forward to E.R. Figured Thursday was soon enough before the holiday weekend, President's day, trust me it figures into the story. I paid the bills, called my friend/manager and explained the situation. Was on the road about 10 in the morning. Hit the post office and went to the hospital.
Ever been into an E.R., wish the answer for most was no. As a patient, not in critical condition, or believing themselves to be, it is no fun. You are put into what I call a curtain stall. Wall Behind you, curtains on your right and left with other people. Time passes most slowly and drearily. Especially when there are no people waiting for you.
Generally you are examined, people passing by. I was lucky enough to have a half delirious woman next to me. Who upon learning my first name called everyone that name. Quite often calling to me and asking to help here get her slippers on so she could leave.
It is quite noisy, there is no t.v. but a hustle and bustle. At some point some Dr.s come in, didn't all names. Met a lot of them including gastroenterologist, nice woman. We would meet again.
Somehow Friday was born and I was no being moved into a place called E.R. Overflow 1. a quieter hell.
It has been over a year, my memory on the events is quite good, just not always certain about day and time. Friday.....well I had a partial view of a clock, that didn't help. More and more Dr.s came in. I vaguely remember breakfast when another cardio dude came in. Firstly he knew mine, that helped. Was in contact, covering his patients as he was not on vacation, stubbornly I would only deal with my cardiologist who is not affiliated with the hospital anymore. He's moved onto one in NYC.
With my first bit of food in 24 hours having just been delivered, egg literally upon my fork halfway up to my mouth. He wanted to run some tests, dont' remember the 1, except that I had to drinking an awful preparation for it. I looked at him plainly and said,
"The only thing I want to know, mind you I've not eaten in a day, can I eat my breakfast!"
"I wouldn't recommend it." he said.
I asked the gentleman that brought it to take it away.
I'll spare the details, the prep was for a cat scan, checking for gut bleeding. The prep was along the lines of a....er.....colon cleanse. Ever have to take one of these in an E.R. Overflow room? 2 bathrooms.
i have reached my limit and must start my Saturday. More tomorrow, or if it is gray enough later, maybe later.
January Of 2011
It was a harsh winter here in New York, I remember that. I was moving a whole lot slower, not yet diagnosed as being in CHF. Having been on the blood thinner coumadin for 30 odd years, I was generally chilled, but managed.
I remember being absolutely frozen here. Did do some smart things; bought long under wear and bright orange hat from Dick's Sporting chain. No I'm not a hunter, but my thinking was these people know how to stay warm. Helped somewhat.
In my office, I work in the basement of a building. Trust me it is nice, full gym, cafeteria, stuff like that. I wore my North Face Jacket every day all day. Trust me it helped. I was literally cold to the touch. I do believe that is it for the name brand dropping in case you were interested.
I knew something was up, I was not normal. Cold, getting difficult to move, getting excessively tired. My eating was also becoming abnormal.
I am a simpleton, I eat Oatmeal with raspberries and blackberries, cinnamon and local honey 5 days a week. Usually salads for lunch. Primary reason it is good for me. Secondary it does save me some money to bring my own lunches. Thirdly, most importantly, lets me slip on the weekends as a reward.
I was off my Oatmeal. I would make and be able to eat it. It was just not doable. In retrospect I can recognize it was then I was beginning to force myself just to eat to survive.
I recall making an emergency appointment with my cardiologist. Outcome was higher level of diuretics (maybe that's why we call them water pills now, can't spell that) I think I convinced him it was nothing, my heart really wasn't showing anything yet. He told me to find an internist in the past summer, let me tell you about that.
They are hard to find. When you do, it is often a six month waiting list, or at least for those that took my insurance.
It was then that I remembered my GP, newly acquired was one. Made an appointment for February.
Mostly January passed with much exhaustion, eating what I could and what not.
I remember being absolutely frozen here. Did do some smart things; bought long under wear and bright orange hat from Dick's Sporting chain. No I'm not a hunter, but my thinking was these people know how to stay warm. Helped somewhat.
In my office, I work in the basement of a building. Trust me it is nice, full gym, cafeteria, stuff like that. I wore my North Face Jacket every day all day. Trust me it helped. I was literally cold to the touch. I do believe that is it for the name brand dropping in case you were interested.
I knew something was up, I was not normal. Cold, getting difficult to move, getting excessively tired. My eating was also becoming abnormal.
I am a simpleton, I eat Oatmeal with raspberries and blackberries, cinnamon and local honey 5 days a week. Usually salads for lunch. Primary reason it is good for me. Secondary it does save me some money to bring my own lunches. Thirdly, most importantly, lets me slip on the weekends as a reward.
I was off my Oatmeal. I would make and be able to eat it. It was just not doable. In retrospect I can recognize it was then I was beginning to force myself just to eat to survive.
I recall making an emergency appointment with my cardiologist. Outcome was higher level of diuretics (maybe that's why we call them water pills now, can't spell that) I think I convinced him it was nothing, my heart really wasn't showing anything yet. He told me to find an internist in the past summer, let me tell you about that.
They are hard to find. When you do, it is often a six month waiting list, or at least for those that took my insurance.
It was then that I remembered my GP, newly acquired was one. Made an appointment for February.
Mostly January passed with much exhaustion, eating what I could and what not.
Top of the morning,
I stand upon the precipice of my year anniverssary. Hell I'd forgotten that I even had blogs going. Sort of interesting stuff. For instance I started one about my Defribulator, abandoned, of course the first one Life Is...., abandoned.
I will start anew. Here first because it is timely, and one my mind. There are things I simply cannot forget about that surgery. And oh how I am loathe to admidt it, perhaps it's an age thing, but it has given me a silightly different skew on life.
To what readers there might be, or to myslef, on the weekends I may post mostly in the mornings, at night during the week. I've always liked to write blogs, and read them so here we go.
Without going into a huge amount of background or even explaining; or deleting the first post I'm going to begin in January of 2011.
I stand upon the precipice of my year anniverssary. Hell I'd forgotten that I even had blogs going. Sort of interesting stuff. For instance I started one about my Defribulator, abandoned, of course the first one Life Is...., abandoned.
I will start anew. Here first because it is timely, and one my mind. There are things I simply cannot forget about that surgery. And oh how I am loathe to admidt it, perhaps it's an age thing, but it has given me a silightly different skew on life.
To what readers there might be, or to myslef, on the weekends I may post mostly in the mornings, at night during the week. I've always liked to write blogs, and read them so here we go.
Without going into a huge amount of background or even explaining; or deleting the first post I'm going to begin in January of 2011.
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