Paul's Heart
Life As A Dad, And A Survivor
Nose To The Toes
I am lying in a hospital bed for the second day in a row. The room is in severe contrast to the room that I was in the day before, the emergency room. I am much more at ease today. For at least half of the day yesterday, I do not recall much. But I do remember the end of the day being quite serious. Today is the second day that I’m receiving a cocktail of three strong antibiotics through an IV-line. I am being treated today for pneumonia. Yesterday I was being treated for sepsis, a blood poisoning, based on symptoms and my health history while waiting for blood cultures to come back from the lab. For the third time in my life, the second in four years, I am being cared for as a result of a life-threatening situation. Each time I ignored obvious symptoms and just “toughed it out” believing that, in time, my symptoms would resolve themselves. Each time I was wrong, near fatally wrong. Cancer, blocked arteries, and severe lung infections do not just go away.
I am known to push myself to all kinds of crazy extremes, especially when it comes to time conflicts. I live to disappoint no one. This prior weekend was no different–eight hours of sleep through the entire weekend and two slices of pizza–five events completed. I got through Monday with no problem and went to bed around 11pm. Approximately half an hour later, I woke to vomit. But it was not a violent flu-like vomit, it just poured out. This process repeated several times through the night, each episode leaving me to deal with chronic back pain, that normally I am able to sleep through. My wife wanted to call 911, but I argued that I would be fine. And later on in the day, I would recover. But this situation repeated itself the very next night. At 4am, Wendy did not hesitate and immediately called for an ambulance.
There is a saying, “Always make sure that you have clean underwear on, in case of an accident.” Be prepared for it. Well, I cannot say that I am prepared at 4am in the morning for a raid by two police officers and two EMTs. To leave some imagination to the story, I am hoping that the “package was wrapped before Christmas” to at least some degree. I cannot recall and my wife Wendy is of no help, as she cannot remember either. I would hate to be pulled over in my car by the police officer who responded to my home also, and then have him respond, “If you ever subject me to that appearance on an emergency call again, and I will charge you with assault with a laughable weapon.” At least one officer pled not to be thrown up on and reminded me that he had a gun. One EMT mentioned that he could not handle vomit and would vomit himself. Fantastic, everyone is a comedian even that early in the morning. All the while my young daughters have been rustled from their beds to find two cops, two ambulance guys, oh, and daddy strapped to a stretcher.
Fast forward to my second day in the hospital. Both days so far each shift I have had a nurse, an aide, and a tech. I also had a nursing student. The first night, the nursing student could have passed for a nurse. She seemed already into treatment-mode, had a list of things she had to get to, unable and unwilling to spend any amount of extra time with me.
However, on my second night, in walks into my room, cue the forestry noises, tonight’s student nurse, a young girl with a beautiful smile, a timid voice, and a strongly innocent demeanor. She may as well have been twirling around in her dress in circles singing to the birds sitting on each hand being followed by the deer, rabbit, and skunk. All she was missing was her cast of altitudinal-challenged men with pick-axes whistling while marching through the woods in single-file. “Good evening sir, I’m Michelle and I am a nursing student. I am here to check you from nose to toes.” Aaaawww, that was so cute. Wait a minute. Did she actually say “nose to toes?” Am I on the pediatric floor? Or had someone sent me a specially dressed live telegram (wink wink) to cheer me up? Then it got awkward, especially with her age (young enough to be my daughter) for me to offer any smart-alec response like “did you say nose to hose” or “nose we see where it goes.” But then it hits me. One of my daughters might pursue this career. So, I go back into dad-mode and give her a very mature, “Sure you may.” Now that my mind had been put back on the right track, I am thinking, how bad can it be? She is just going to check my eyes, ears, throat, blood pressure, lungs, um…, um…, okay, all was cool as she went from my belly, nose, to my toes! My feet of all things, was what I was going to be uncomfortable with. Even while checking the area where “nobody goes between my nose and my toes” would not have bothered me as much as letting her see my feet. I do not even ask my wife to rub my feet. This poor girl did not deserve this. But she did it, and with the same smile that she came into my room with, and left the room. She had checked me from my nose to my toes.
In my life, I have heard criticisms about many professions, that longevity with an employer can make one complacent, and the passion for the job is not the same as it was decades earlier when the employee began.
A teacher gets to sample what her career will be like by being a student teacher. The experience often leaves them with a false sense of security and false confidence. This microcosm of an experience, often controlled, fuels their desires, hopes and dreams of being a teacher even further. Then after 30 years of abusive students, public criticism for salary and schedule, and administrative disappointments, the personal achievements and pride in knowing the positive impact made on young minds ends up lost for so many.
Doctors can grow callused due to seeing as many as 30 patients in a five-hour period, their symptoms all blurring together. Take the oncologist whose profession it is to tell people that they have cancer. Seriously, can you blame this doctor for not having a cheery bedside manner unlike what his or her personality might have been like in high school?
You can select any profession and this may ring true. But in a time and place that are scary enough, it was an unexpected smile and a friendly demeanor which made me wish this young woman a very long and happy career. What I initially took as a fairy tale-like entrance will forever be a moment that I never forget.
He’s So Young
I have always appreciated the emotional sacrifice that my caregivers gave, whether nurses, doctors, or family members. The following is but one possible thought that might be considered:
I have had this job for nearly ten years. I have seen hundreds of people come through the doors of our office. Patients have undergone cardiac stress tests performed by me for reasons such as physical shape, conditioning, cholesterol, age, and heredity. One day does not necessarily stand out from another.
This morning started out no differently than most others in my career as a cardiac technician. My first patient is a 42 year-old male who has been sent to our office for a nuclear stress test by his general practitioner. This is odd, and clearly a waste of time, money, and benefits. There is no reason for him to be undergoing a test of this level. In any case, I call him to the implementation room to install his IV line so that the radioactive dye can be injected for the x-rays to be taken prior to, and after the treadmill exercise.
What a baby he is! He is a cancer survivor and so intimidated and squeamish as I try to put in his line. Yes, patients have a fear of needles, but this patient is so over the top. With the IV now inserted, the dye is injected and the first set of x-rays are taken. Nothing unusual is noticed. I have him follow me to the exam room, where the next set of technicians are waiting to hook up his EKG lines and then he gets on the treadmill.
I move on to my next patient, not thinking anymore about Paul.
Within ten minutes, Paul is led back to the x-ray room. That is odd. At least a half an hour should have gone by before he returned to my care. In any case, the second set of x-rays needs to be done which will now show the blood flow to his heart under stress. Once the pictures are done, I will escort him back to the waiting room until the results are read, and then I will release him to go home.
There is a definite age that you need to be in order to vote. You have to be so old to get into an rated R movie. There is a minimum drinking age. These ages are so long ago, so young. Cancer does not discriminate based on age. Undiagnosed health conditions lead to shocking and sudden obituaries with high school student athletes. So young.
I am not the doctor. But I do have basic knowledge of what these photos mean. The colors on the film are either orange or purple. In the beginning, his heart shows that blood flow is just as it should be and this is confirmed with the orange color, the blood. But as stress is introduced, the treadmill, the orange changes to purple. He has a blockage. It looks fairly serious to me, and I am just a nurse.
The waiting room is now mostly empty except for the first patient of the day. This will be the last time that I see him. He will be referred to one of our cardiologists and the staff that will be needed to save his life. Mr. Edelman? Oh my God, he is so young. My children are his age. This could be my child. He is so young. I want to cry.
“I am going to take you back to Dr. S’s office. Dr. S would like to talk with you.” He is getting bad news, and he knows it. You can see it. But he still gets out, “Thank you, you have been so nice to me.”
I do not know what exactly his diagnosis or prognosis will be. I do believe in our doctors to save this man’s life. It is just that he is so damned young. It is just not fair.
Paul's Heart 