Here's What Happened...
Wed., August 25, 07:21 PM
Thank you for all your good wishes. There are so many I can’t thank each of you personally. But the least I can do is let you know what was up.
Next week Husband and I will have been married for thirty-six years. I was going to say we would celebrate, but I don’t know whether he will be up to celebrating. And if he is, we will be celebrating one more recovery.
Last Wednesday I took Husband for a routine medical checkup. This is always, as Husband would call it, a “projeck.” I would get him up in the morning, reminding him one last time that he couldn’t eat anything. I drove him to the doctor, and he managed to walk from the car into the office. Dr. U did a general exam, mentioned that he seemed a little weaker than he’d been a year ago, but he was generally holding his own.
Then I drove him to the lab, where Husband had blood drawn. He said the girl was good, but I heard him yell – from the waiting room. He also had a chest X-ray.
After having no breakfast, Husband deserves a treat and, as usual, I took him to his favorite Denny’s. He ordered a large breakfast, because he always wants to bring something home. He had his pancakes and coffee, wrapped up the eggs and sausage (we’ve done this dozens of times), and asked if we could go to the supermarket. No, darn it, I was tired. I’m giving you details to illustrate that he seemed to be fine.
I picked up his renewed meds at the pharmacy and took him home to await the lab results from the doctor. On Friday (still hadn’t heard) I noticed that Husband seemed to be having some difficulty with normal tasks, and my daughter and I watched him carefully through the weekend.
By Sunday morning I had determined that I would take him back to the doctor on Monday; he seemed to be favoring one arm and using the other one for the cane. He was dozing off sitting up – okay, he had done that before but not as often – and he was taking longer to get from one room to another. On Sunday night he suddenly said, “my legs won’t hold me.” We got him into a chair and I called 911.
Without any other symptoms, frankly, I thought he might have had a stroke. He was still talking a little when the paramedics came, but by the time we got him to the hospital, he wasn’t responding at all. (He didn’t even flinch when they put in the IV.) The doctors sent us to the waiting room while they checked blood gases and inserted a breathing tube. Twenty minutes later, with the help of oxygen and fluids, he could open his eyes and blink or nod when I talked to him.
The E.R. doctor said his carbon dioxide had been very high (that makes you sleepy), and he seemed to be dehydrated. At that point I was ready to knock him upside the head; he didn’t listen to me! I told him he had to drink more water (it was hot and muggy) and even made him drink some while I watched. (But he would drink less if he thought he wouldn’t have to go to the bathroom as often.) And even though I was encouraging him to take deep breaths – which would have helped him – it was easier for him to ignore me and just breathe these shallow little gasps.
The last info on his hospital record was six years old, and Dr. U couldn’t help, because he was still waiting for the lab results. During the night, Husband tore out the breathing tube, so that the doctors had to put him on a respirator and restrain his hands.
On Monday morning, Dr. U received the lab reports and faxed them to us. So I had the numbers at hand when I talked to the pulmonary specialists. On Wednesday his numbers had been within normal limits. On Sunday night, they had been out the window. This was just as sudden a change as I thought it was.
On Tuesday afternoon the cardiologist phoned to say he wanted to do a Swan catheterization, which I was not familiar with, but I could follow his explanation. There seemed to be something going on that was holding his blood pressure down. I gave the go-ahead. I figured they would call me if they found anything dire.
On Wednesday morning, even before doctors finished rounds, the nurse was able to tell us that (1) he was alert and responding to commands and (2) the Swan procedure had found “nothing remarkable.”
Son and I went over to the hospital today, just as the doctors were preparing to remove the breathing tube. So we spent an hour in the cafeteria and returned to find Husband untubed and alert. Said the nurse, “the first thing he wanted was the TV remote.” That’s 100 per cent normal; he’s doing fine.
Now it’s a matter of watch and wait. They’ll start removing support a bit at a time and see how he manages. He ducked the bullet one more time. Orphans and dingbats…
