I almost died.

Jan 05, 2013

 

  Let me tell you, this last couple of weeks have been a nightmare.  I went to be on Sat night, Dec 22, feeling great, anticipating shopping the next day to finish off gifts for the grandkids and stuff for Christmas dinner.  I was, for the first time, going to cook Prime Rib, since it was on sale and would be a real treat.  Anyway, at 4am I woke up in pain in my stomach.  I thought it might have been something I ate, since my tummy is tricky after WLS, but it usually acts up right away, not hours and hours later.  My stomach started bloating--like I was having twins and ready to deliver.  I was in so much pain.  Then my kidneys started hurting so bad.  I tried to go to the bathroom, but it wasn't that.     I woke Butch up at about 5:30 and told him something was wrong.  I needed to go to the hospital.  He really wasn't waking up, so I took a pain pill and tried to go back to sleep, but there was no way.  I actually took another pain pill.  After about 20 minutes I told him that I think I had to go to the ER.  He still stalled on me.  I got up and went to the living room.  He didn't get up.  After a little while I went and lay back down.  I then forcefully told him that something was seriously wrong and he needed to call an ambulance.   He finally got up.  I could not move, the pain was so intense.  I couldn't dress myself.  He pulled a nightgown over my head and put socks on my feet and called 911.  They got here and got me to the hospital.  The hospital triage put me in the waiting room!  I sat out in a full waiting room in a wheelchair in agony for almost an hour.  They thought I had stomach flu--not critical.  They took me back to the not critical section of the ER and put me on a stretcher.  I don't even know how I was conscious because the pain was so great.  The tech took my temp.  He said "this machine ain't working cause you have the temp of a cadaver."  Yes, he seriously said that.  He got another one--96 degrees.  He took it rectally--95 degrees.  They RUSHED me to critical care.  My organs were shutting down and all blood flow was being directed to my brain, lungs and heart.  My kidneys were almost gone.   They did blood work and a CAT scan and found my bowel was being strangulated.  Blood works showed my lactate level was 3.5.  4.0 is death.  Anything over 2.0 is life threatening.   The surgeon on call had to make a decision--to either let me go, making me comfortable with morphine, or do the surgery, which might already be too late.  He decided to do the surgery.  The anesthesiologist had to bring his kids to the hospital because he had no babysitter.   The surgeon, Dr Halpert, was blunt.  He told me and my family that the chance that I would survive the surgery was slim, and if I did I was likely to have severe organ damage.  My poor mother could not stop weeping.  I was at peace.  I just wanted the pain to stop, and if that meant going to Heaven, then I was ready for God's plan.  I got to say goodbye to my closest family except for the kids.  My youngest daughter was out of town, so my goodbyes were on the phone.  She immediately started the 4 hour drive home.   Next thing I remember was waking up in intensive care.  I couldn't breathe on my own, so I was on a ventilator.  At that point the only thing I could move was my eyes.  It was beautiful to see my family gathered around me.  I eventually could move and could write notes to communicate.I was intubated for 2 1/2 days.  It was so horrible when the sedation would wear off.  The condensation in the tube would make me cough--and you can't cough with a  tube in your throat.  It was breathing for me, but I felt like I was drowning.    I was finally weened off of the ventilator and when everything was good, I was moved to a regular room.  The staff was so good to me and I felt I was well taken care off.  The love and prayers I received really did make a difference.  I made sure to tell my family to let my online family know what was going on, either way.     I was healing well, doing physical therapy, etc.  Ready to go home on Saturday, after a week in the hospital.  The doc comes and and I've sprung a leak at the bottom of my staples (40 of them)  I am cut from the bottom of my ribs to my belly button.  I also have a gastric tube coming out of my remnant stomach just in case I balloon up again since they really don't know why I did this in the first place.  The only guess is adhesions from my lap WLS & previous lap gall bladder surgery  twisted my intestines up.  Dr. said I needed to stay one more day.  Good think I did because that trickle turned into a waterfall of the most disgusting pus and blood.  The Dr pulled out half the staples and started me on wound care.  The open wound is about 4-5 inches long and at least 3 inches deep.  The dr said I'd probably be in the hospital for months.  I had to be sedated.  I just couldn't take any more.There was a charge nurse, Ducky, that just held me, calmed me, told me that I wasn't being punished by God.  At that point I thought it would have been better if I had just passed on.  I can't believe that I had that mental state, but it is what it is.   So with wound care it was like starting recovery all over again.  All the soreness I had worked so hard to walk out during PT was back and worse.  I was constantly draining, making a mess everywhere.  It was absolutely miserable.  My bed was so uncomfortable and Butch brought my fleece blankets to lay on, but even now my lower back, tail bone is sore.  I resigned myself to a long stay, but then my doc comes in and tells me that my wound is clean, healing really fast, and he wanted to get me out of the hospital before I got a superbug.  The infection I had gotten was an easy one.  We didn't want a hard one.   So I got to go home.  I am so glad to be home.  It isn't easy---I have trouble getting up and down still.  The nursing company that is visiting me daily ordered me a toilet riser so I don't have to strain to stand up, but it hasn't come and I expect by the time it does that I won't need it.  Still dealing with the drainage--gotta have a constant supply of clean sheets.  Having trouble eating, but I am doing what I can do.  They want me to get 140 grams of protein a day, and it is hard.  But I will get through this, with the continued support and love of friends and family, I will get through this.  

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