Paul's Heart

Life As A Dad, And A Survivor

Archive for the day “January 6, 2013”

06 Jan 2013

A Night In The ER


Earlier this week, I spent an evening at our local hospital Emergency Room with Wendy.  Between the two of us and our health issues, this is just all too frequent of an occurrence.  I believe that not a whole lot of people have a true appreciation or even know what a trauma unit goes through during their shifts, the different dangers they are exposed to, and the various behaviors that they must tolerate.

A bad response to the flu shot or antibiotic she had also just been given, flared up her issue with Fibromyalgia.  She is on meds to manage it, but every so often, she must deal with these flare-ups.  This particular flare-up was so severe, I watched her literally curl up, not just her torse, but her arms, legs, hands, feet, and fingers being crushed by an uncontrollable cramping.

I rushed her to the ER where they began the process of trying to get her body to relax and nothing seemed to work.  After about three hours, they finally found something that would allow her body to relax.  I figured that the hospital would not admit her for this.  I knew that they would not look to treat her for her Fibromyalgia.  The unit would just try to get her symptoms to settle down and send her home.  We have been through this drill before.

There is not alot for a spouse to do while waiting for recovery.  So as I am prone to do, I like to watch, nothing gory mind you.  I am way too squeamish for that, but rather ativity.  My subject tonight, the ER.  I must offer this disclaimer, this was a Tuesday night at 10:00 and I had not seen sleep since Monday morning.  I had to do something to stay awake.

There is a lot of buzz in an Emergency Room, There are all kinds of employees working as a team, not sure of all their roles but we knew our nurse, tech, and doctor.  But there were plenty of other people around too.  In another hour, several would go home, others would come to work in their place so if we needed any kind of comfort, now would be the time to do it.  On-coming shifts usually need some briefing time to gather information of activity in their unit.

There are portable machines being pushed around.  There are technicians walking around with white plastic baskets carrying phlebotomy supplies (these people are blood suckers).  My attention now turns to the other rooms in the unit, or those being wheeled in.

One elderly lady who came in was covered in bleach.  It was eleven o’clock at night and this woman who had to be well over 80 was cleaning.  But she was covered in bleach.  The strength of the chlorine fumes was staggering.  She had fallen and it  had not appeared that she had broken anything, just a decent bump on the noggin.  She had no idea what she was doing there and then became curious why she was getting the bath in bed?  It was really quite sad as the nurses asked the woman all kinds of elementary questions or simple recall questions like, “do you know where you are right now?” or “do you know what year this is?”

Moments later a call comes over the hospital radio.  A patient is coming in via ambulance from an alcohol ovderdose.  This obviously will not be pleasant.  The man is roughly my age, drank an entire bottle of tequila.  To make matters worse, he was skitzophrenic.  He was quiet as they rolled this tall man into the room.  A swarm of personnel followed into the room, I am sure part of it was protocol, the other part curiosity.  All I know is that all the attention that Wendy had been getting is now gone over to those two rooms.  This was going to be a long night.

It was not the elderly patient who was hard of hearing, it was the drunk.  As they started to access the intoxicated giant, he let out this loud groan/grumble as if some sort of warning, followed by several curse words which amounted to “what is happening, please stop, get off me!”  Just then, every person in the ER swarmed on room 21, including our doctor.  None of them would be able to restrain this guy if he got up and charged out of his room.  And then where to?  They gain control of the situation and calm the guy down and disperse.

In comes another elderly person, another fall.  It is 2am on a Wednesday morning.  What the hell are these people doing at this hour to end up here in the ER?  I could see a seizure or perhaps a heart attack, but all of these people were doing something that could have probably been put off until daylight, or in at least one case, not done at all.  I am not being judgemental at all, but the drunk was actually scheduled for surgery just a few hours later.  The doctor advised the patient, it might be best to delay that.

Just then, another call comes in over the hospital radio.  This time it is an alcoholic going through withdrawals.  Arrival five minutes.  And through the doors comes a middle aged man (though because of the alcoholism probably made him look older than he actually was) with his hands behind his back.  Oh wait, his hands were handcuffed.  And he was escorted by a police officer.

And then there was Wendy, who at 2:15am, had finally drifted off to sleep.  But her body had settled down at this point.  Which is good, no electrical current, no overdose,  Let’s go home.

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06 Jan 2013

My Co-Worker Has Cancer. What A PIA He Is!


We spend most of our adult lives at work, eight hours or more a day, five days or more per week, year after year.  We spend most of our waking hours with our co-workers, easily more than our spouse or significant other, or any member of the family.  It is naturally assumed then, that no one would know you better, than your co-worker(s).  If there was one person that you should be able to count on, it should be a co-worker.  But what if it is not?  What if it is exactly the opposite?  What if it is worse than that, nearly your entire working environment?

When I was diagnosed with my Hodgkin’s Disease, I was devastated.  To my knowledge, my employer had not really ever had to deal with cancer, on the personal level of an employee.  If the owner of the company would be moved to tears upon my announcement, clearly those in my office (at the least) would respond in kind if not more so.  Instead, for the first time in my life, I experienced the bizarre behavior of what I call “whataboutme syndrome.”

Instead of rallying around me in support, scuttle got around the company that I was getting special favors or treatment from upper management because of having cancer.  THIS WAS NOT FAIR!!!!  Really?  I was the one diagnosed with a potentially fatal disease yet it was my co-workers who faced the bigger challenge of making sure they were going to be treated as if they were going to die.

The truth was, my employer did do something special for me.  Actually it benefited the entire company.  When Jeff found out about my cancer, and the limited and restrictive coverage that his employees had because of me, he made a phone call that night, and had the coverage increased, so that I could receive the best possible treatments available at the best facility.

Being a semi-private person (until I started this blog), not many people knew anything about my personal life.  The response by my co-workers was not going to help that issue.  So other than a “Get Well” card signed by everyone in the company, this is what I did to my fellow co-workers by getting cancer:

I Got Extra Days Off Paid From Work

Never happened.  I had the same amount of time off as everyone else.  I had arranged for my treatments to be done last of the day, which allowed me to break up my sick days into hours.  It made it appear as I had 16 sick days instead of 10.  I was out for an entire month for one of the diagnostic procedures, and was only paid for 8 of those days.  But no one asked.

They’ll Never Reprimand Him When He Does Something Wrong

The operative word is “when”.  I have a fairly strong work ethic, and really, all I cared about was being treated as if nothing was wrong with me.

I Have To Do All Of His Work Because He Is To Tired To Deal With It

I never asked anyone to do my work for me.  And the lack of any reprimands also confirms that I got my work done, regardless of how I felt.

There are more examples, but you get the idea of just how much of a pain in the ass I was to everyone for having cancer.

This is not just an isolated environment either.  In 2008, I saw this behavior taken to a whole new level, co-workers had gone beyond just being selfish, they hade become bullies.

Bullying is a repeast abuse of perceived power, repeatedly, and intended to harm.  It can be physical, emotional, or social.  It is destructive, stressful, and can be fatal if not dealt with.  It used to be that bullies were only something that had to be dealt with in the school environment.  But over time, the methods used to deal with these incident began to be accepted as a rite of passage, a phase “all” kids go through.  There is one major problem with this thinking.  Everyone becomes an adult, and unless the bullying behavior is dealt with as a child, how is that child going to be any different as an adult?  A bully will grow up to be a bully.  A victim of a bully, especially if repeated will grow up still accepting this dominating treatment, or even the opposite, pushing back on anything that goes against him as it is perceived as bullying.  There is no such thing as choosing battles when it comes to this level.  And it has a profound effect on adults that often, is not reversible.  Relationships, careers, and friendships are many times destroyed because the person isolates himself by his own actions, or by others who want nothing to do with this type of personality.

Case In Point

I have come to realize that with my bullying history, repeated bullying, and usually by gangs of kids, never one on one (I should feel good knowing that they thought they had no chance against me that way), I do not take shit from anyone.  I have been that way now for over 30 years.  On one hand, it has been a blessing, because of the way I attack health issues, I will defeat them.  But when it comes to human interaction, especially with my employer, it has come at a severe cost.

So I have never really been close with my co-workers, by design.  Professionally, we can get the work done with each other.  But personally, we rarely interact.  I cannot trust most people and their intentions.  This was made worse when I had my heart surgery in 2008.  After realizing how close to death I came with this, it was the perfect timing that I had received a “get well” fruit basket from co-workers and management.  I was truly touched.  I wanted a starting point to turn things around for me personality wise, and this was going to be the moment to do it.  Or so I thought.

During the next two weeks following the surgery, my wife had stayed home with me to take care of any needs I would have.  In the mean time, two of our co-workers, who incidently happened to be the only two people who were even a slight bit close to us, had conspired against Wendy.  To this day, we do not know what caused it.  A huge rash of accusations and false treatments had put a target on Wendy’s back, and the bad thing was, everyone was believing it, instead of just discussing things with Wendy or I.  Wendy’s career was now in jeopardy.  She almost lost me, and now she had to deal with this shit.

The time had come for me to return to work.  I have a very physical job, and my employer does not allow for easing back into the job.  You either do it all, or do not come back.  I was supposed to be out for six months recovering, by I had been warned that my job was jeopardized for an attendance policy as my FMLA had run out.  Over 30 years of working, hardly missed any time ever, including my battle with cancer, but open heart surgery, I had to rush back from to save my job.

To help me back, with my lungs not being full capacity, and my legs not strong at all, I had obtained a “handicap” placard temporarily so that I could park closer and have to walk less in extreme weather conditions.  That very first day I had heard of a complaint “why was I parking in a handicap spot if I was cleared to come back to work?  What was still wrong with me?  If I had to park there, I should be sent home because I am not well enough to come back.”  That was it.  Every day since, I have grown angrier and angrier as on a daily basis, I must protect my job, because morons have decided it is their right to determine if Wendy and I are allowed to earn a paycheck and support our family.  These bullies have the power to set us up falsely, to have us put into the postitions of being reprimanded.  After 15 years of basically a flawless behavior record, in the last 3 years, Wendy has been suspended 3 times, close to termination on one of those occasions.  All with the influence of our co-workers.

You see, they see someone who just happens to be having a good day, health wise, and might just be smiling.  So the person must be better.  And when the person is out sick the next day because of a flare up, the person must be faking it.  If you do not look the part, you are lying.  If you have cancer, you must look frail, bald, and sick to really have cancer otherwise you are faking.   Call out sick from work, do not get caught in a pharmacy shopping, while waiting for your prescription to be filled.  You will be caught in the act.  As time has gone on, I have had restrictions on some of my work activities, and by law, the American With Disabilities Act, it is required to accomodate me.  My co-workers do not believe in this law and call it unfair.  The fact that I miss up to two days per month just in doctor follow ups for my long term survivor issues is a major inconvenience to them.  Though in fairness, I have never given them to accept the opportunity to live in my shoes for just one day.

The fact is, 99% of the people we work with, have never, ever been to our home or spent time with us personally.  And that is something I take responsibility for.  Of those 99%, 95% feel qualified to know if Wendy and I have real issues or not as they are surely in direct contact with our doctors.  But they are all 100% responsible for starting the fires and feeding them fuel on situations none of them know anything about until they acheive their goal of having you fired.

My co-workers have been responsible for countless other co-workers that were targeted to be removed due to personality conflicts.  I have been asked so many times, why would this happen?  The only thing I can figure is Wendy and I are happy.  We have a good family.  I do not rely on going out to happy hours daily or sleeping with co-workers.  I come to work and do my job and they would rather have someone else to join their club or, they simpy are tired of being reminded of the loser existence they live.

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06 Jan 2013
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How Did I Know Something Was Wrong?


We have all heard variations of survival of heart attacks.  The symptoms range anywhere from severe heartburn to the most excruciating pain.  My father and father-out-law both had very different symptoms with their heart attacks.

I had not had a heart attack, yet.  But according to the cardiologist, to emphasize just how lucky I was, stated “it wasn’t a question of ‘if’ you were going to have a fatal heart attack, but ‘when’.”  It was going to be a moment that could not be recovered from.

Wendy had a friend who was out pulling tomatoes in his garden.  His wife had just looked out her kitchen window.  She stepped away from the window to answer the telephone, and it was for John.  As she exited the back door to the garden, she was horrified to see John face down in the tomato patch.  He was gone.

While John’s health almost made it expected, as opposed to acceptable (overweight, smoker, drinker, high stressed), a heart attack came as no surprise.  On the other hand, I have a fairly youthful appearance, hide my gut pretty well, and internalize my stress.  I do not smoke and am not a big drinker.  Of course my diet is horrible.  But to look at me, no one could have any idea that I was a candidate for a major coronary event.  So, given my procrastinating nature, how did I know it was time to finally do something and how close did I cut it?

I didn’t.  It was just dumb luck on so many levels.  I had one main symptom for four months, but because of the way it appeared and resolved, and the lack of severity, I thought nothing of it.

January 2nd of 2008, I made the resolution I have made every stinking year, and broken, to get into shape and drop some serious weight.  There was nothing in particular that led me to believe that 2008 would be any different in commitment, but nonetheless, I signed up in another gym, one that had not seen me yet, paid my enrollment fee and got to work right away.

It was only going to be a little bit of cardiac work and some weights.  I do not like to run, and exercise bikes are boring.  I found myself liking a machine called an eliptical.  What made it better, is it had all kinds of meters on it from measure calories burned  to heart beat.  It was real easy to set goals.  However, right from the first day, something did not feel right.  I clearly had no idea what I was doing as I watched my heartrate escalate rapidly and hold around 150, which amazingly I did not realize was not good.  The coding on the console stated that to properly burn calories and lose weight, I was in the correct heartrate zone.  If you have ever tried to go jogging or running in the cold, and you ever got that “tight” feeling in your body, well, that’s how I felt, only I was indoors in a climate control environment.  Within a minute, the tightness would disappear.    The difference between the feeling that I had, and the “jogging in the cold”, is that after a certain period of jogging, the body would normally aclimate.  After two months, this tightness did not go away.  But I started to notice this tightness in other activities.  I had a very physical job that required me to move half ton equipment.  And I got that tightness moving that equipment.  As daylight increased, I began to do outdoor work and experienced that tightness outdoors.  Each time, as if it were an introduction or an announcement, this tightness came on almost immediately by the third month, and also increased in intensity.  The tightness still only lasted approximately one minute, then disappeared.  At the gym, I simply went crazy on the eliptical for another fifty-nine minutes, and then it was off to the weight room.  At work, I continued to put out the amount of work as I always had.  Outside in the yard, I would find myself frequently doubled over in discomfort.

By the second week of April, I had enough.  I have seasonal allergies and Spring hayfever season was about to come on, so I figured why not give my doctor a call to set up an appointment for my allergy shot, but then also to address this tightness issue.  My health file after 42 years was ridiculously thin.  With the exception of the period that I battled Hodgkin’s Disease, I only saw my doctor once a year to get that shot, and that was it.

But as I asked for advice from Dr. P for any tips to get rid of this feeling, she made a decision that would be the absolute difference in my life.  On a hunch, based on my health history of cancer, she ordered a nuclear stress test.  A nuclear stress test is the same as a standard treadmill stress test, only the patient is injected with a dye, and then a special x-ray is taken before  getting on the treadmill, and then with the heart under stress and getting off of the treadmill.  The entire time, I was connected to an EKG machine monitoring my heart.

I took my turn on the table, and the first set of photos were taken in a relaxed state.  Then I got on the treadmill.  Within two minutes, the incline and speed had been increased, and it was obvious that my heart rate had also increased.  Into just the third minute, something had shown up on the EKG, and the test had been stopped.  Back to the x-ray machine, and the stress photos were done.

I honestly believe that as my cardiologist put it, that it was not a question of if I was going to die, but when.  And had it not been for my family doctor making the phone call to schedule the appointment for the nuclear stress test, and had I made the appointment on my own, that test most likely would not have occurred until weeks later, and then it most likely would have been too late.

On April 16th, I had a catheterization done, because the cardiologist thought he could fix me right up, with just a couple of stints as the pictures had shown there was definitely a blockage  as blood flow had been cut off from the heart.  But catheterization would not correct my blockage.  On April 17th, I had life saving emergency bypass surgery.  So no, I do not know what it is like to have a heart attack, and I am grateful that I do not.  But I need to learn to listen to my body when it gives me a fair amount of warning.  I am currently on my second folder of medical records as the first folder grew past its seams just since I finally dealt with that annoyance over four years ago.

Posted in Cancer, The Heart

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