Dear Diary… Sorry I haven’t cracked you open in a while. A long while. You know I’ve been busy writing Word on the Street. But some recent events have caused me to break the seal on this journal and record a couple happenings I found interesting. Interesting to me, at least. And I guess that’s the purpose of a diary.
I wasn’t gonna do this. My plan for this week’s WOTS post was to do my regular thing. You know, report on some new developments around town, opine a little, and hope my readers found it compelling enough to drive those numbers. It’s all about the numbers, huh?
Diary numbers are totally different than blog numbers. This diary entry is just for me. Again… that’s the purpose of a diary.
Anyway, last Thursday I had my second hip replacement. I thought I could make my post about that, but really… everybody has medical stuff going on. I see it all the time on Facebook. And much of it is more serious than a planned hip replacement. So I figured I’d keep that to myself and write about something like… “Is the Dollar Store closing?” Or, “Are the lights on at the Westwood Mall?” Or, “Have you been to L&M yet?” And, “How can this market support so many stores selling the same stuff?” That was the plan. Well… plans change.
Okay… gonna get a little personal here diary, cuz that’s okay when it’s just you and me. My hip surgery… which went very well by the way, was Thursday morning. By Monday morning, I still had not made stool. (I think that’s a funny way to put it.) The pain meds I’d been on cause constipation, and no amount of coffee or fiber or Miralax or anything short of the dreaded insertion was working.
Finally though, cuz it couldn’t go on forever, the kraken was released. Twice. By about 10:30 Monday morning I was feeling much better, knowing my system was operating as it should. I was still in pain, and my mobility was next to nothing, but at least my innards were functioning.
Then, feeling chipper, I figured I’d try to get a little work done. As I sat here at the computer, trying to do something other than lay on the couch and watch TV, I began to feel a little funny. Not my usual funny, but medically funny, which actually isn’t all that funny.
I began to sweat, I got really weak and dizzy, I felt like I could throw up, and there was a whirring sound going through my head. Because I’m a stupid man, I figured I could fight this off and soon enough I’d feel better, right? Nope.
I let Cherie know that I was experiencing something unsettling, but before I could assure her I’d be okay, she was on the phone to 911. Again, because I’m a stupid man, I tried to talk her out of letting them send an ambulance. My protestations rang hollow though, when I passed out in the chair. Hard to argue with the wife when your eyes are in the back of your head.
After that brief blackout, I came to, and before I could suggest that maybe some professional intervention wouldn’t be a bad idea… they were already here. I know I was unconscious for a minute or two, but dang, that was quick.
Okay diary, here’s where it got serious. What started out as me not feeling up to par turned to Code Red in a hurry. I don’t know what Code Red is and I didn’t hear anybody call it Code Red, but when you’ve got a half-dozen medical professionals in your face, hooking you up to all sorts of fancy equipment, asking questions that you’re struggling to answer… and there’s a cop car, a fire truck, and an ambulance parked in front of your house, well, I’m calling it Code Red.
All of a sudden, the weekly post I was planning on writing took a back seat to my seat in the back of the ambulance. As you know diary, I consider myself an “observer.” I watch what happens and I write what I think about it. So it’s a little odd that from the time the EMTs carried me out of my house until the time I was wheeled into a room at the hospital’s emergency department, I kept my eyes closed.
It’s probably important to point out again that this “episode” wasn’t happening in a vacuum. (I’m not sure what that means, but it seems to work here.) I was just 4 days out from hip replacement, so every time I was moved from one gurney bed to another, I had to remind my caretakers that you can’t just grab my leg and drag me over. I was in constant pain that was only minimized by my current fight to stay alive.
Okay diary. I’ll level with you. I guess I never really thought I was going to die, but the idea did cross my mind. Especially when the ER doc said… “I don’t like this.” You see, they kept testing me to see what my symptoms might mean. The doc asked me to close my eyes and touch my nose with my left index finger. Hard to believe I couldn’t touch MY nose, but I missed.
I think they were concerned that I was having a stroke. Remember I had that TIA (a small stroke) a few years ago, so that, combined with my struggle to speak, gave them good reason. I tried to explain… which is hard to do when you can’t talk, that my mouth was too dry to actually utter words. And they will not give you water. No matter how much you beg, they won’t do it. Through my symmetrical smile and other stroke tests, which I was able to execute, they decided it was probably something else. Whew. I did not want to have a stroke.
So I went through a bunch of tests… a CT scan, maybe an EKG, and an MRI. Bear in mind diary, that I’m still going through all this with my eyes closed. My only observations were coming from what I heard. That’s why I said, “maybe an EKG.” When I’m being treated by health professionals, I question nothing. I didn’t need to see what they were doing. I didn’t WANT to see what they were doing. They say that’s a bad idea, but I don’t care. I’m a very trusting person, even when a total stranger has my life in their hands.
Hang in there diary… I’m just about done.
Even though I had no concept of time, and I left my phone at home, I think I was there for about five hours. Wife and son were there the whole time. Finally the word came down. They said I had a Vasovagal syncope. At least that’s what my symptoms indicated. Not fun, but survivable.
I was given the all clear to go home and take it easy. Neighbor Joe, who had seen all the vehicles out front earlier, was there at the exit to make sure I was okay. Good neighbor.
Other than spending most of the time worrying that this could be it for me, there were a couple other things I found interesting. First, when they were loading me into the ambulance, the gurney wouldn’t latch into place. They fought with it for quite a while and were just about to call for a replacement vehicle when something clicked and we were locked and loaded. Good thing. I didn’t want this to turn into some kind of Three Stooges scene where I slide out the back on my way to the hospital.
And then I found it a little odd when the nurse who was questioning me about my health history was writing her notes on a chunk of paper towel she ripped from the dispenser. I guess that’s okay. Just odd.
We’ll wrap it up here diary.
I’m interested to see what the bill is going to look like for my visit. I imagine it’s going to be way more than I could pay if I didn’t have adequate coverage. If you consider the level of professionalism, the high tech equipment used in my treatment, and the exorbitant cost of everything these days, a big bill is to be expected.
And finally, a word about my care. I must have been attended to by no fewer than 50 people from start to finish, and I had total confidence in every one of them. Remember, I’ve written some critical things about our hospital in previous WOTS posts, and those criticisms were largely valid. But when it came time to make sure I made it home in one piece… when the rubber hit the road, the medical pros we count on around here for life-saving measures, did not disappoint. And I thank each and every one of them for that.
That’s it for now diary. Til next time.