Continued - Breathing Tube Removed

I was in and out of his room all afternoon.  It seemed to agitate John when I came in and he was trying so hard talk and move.  He was in that precarious stage, awake enough to know what was going on but with just enough pain meds to keep him sort of comfortable.

After one particularly difficult visit, I told the nurse I just didn't think I was being helpful with his recovery.  She was so good to John and several of the nurses, breathing therapists, and P.A.s had formed a cheering team.  They knew how much I wanted that tube out.  The afternoon ticked by.

Thankfully, I had plenty of company outside to the waiting room.  My friends from Raleigh, Dan and Denise had come for moral support. Annie had driven up from little Washington.  We all sat together beside the large bank of windows, the sun streaming in, and caught up on each other.  They all had been monitoring John's progress via the phone tree.

Anyone that has ever spent very much time in a hospital waiting room, can understand the mix of people and how you can almost get to know other families after an extended period of time, observing.  There was no shortage of entertainment at the Heart Institute.  We marveled at the food one family consumed while waiting together that day.  Within the course of a few hours, we saw them devour 3 dozen Dunkin Donuts, a large box of Bojangles chicken, several boxes of Chinese food, a Taco Bell order, assorted frappes, fruit smoothies, tea and chips.  We all sat in amazement watching them eat all the "comfort food".  One of our group even mentioned we may need to call and get them another trash can for the empty boxes.  We all agreed, we should be ashamed of ourselves for being so critical of their eating habits, but they were way too easy to target.  And when you are holed up in a hospital, any entertainment will do.

With all the eating, my friends offered to take me out to eat or run out and get something for me.  I had already told them I would not leave John's side until the decision was made about the breathing tube.  Leslie and Denise went off in search of food.  I went back to check on John.  It was nearly 6 o'clock on Friday night.  We didn't have much time left.   

My cheering team was outside of his door.  The nurse stopped me.  "I really hate to ask you to do this, but we just got a good reading on his blood numbers and if you go in, it may get him excited again and skew his numbers.  He needs to stay calm. We will wait about 30 minutes and take another specimen.  If it is good too, we can take the tube out.  We have everyone in place and ready but this will be the last chance tonight.  The lab will confirm the results as soon as they have them," she said.  

"Of course," I said.  Everyone of them hugged me and sent me back out.  I rushed into the waiting room and told everyone what the nurse had said.  We all hugged and thanked God for all the good news.

Leslie and Denise came back with the food.  I ate quickly expecting the nurse to come out any minute.  It had been over 30 minutes.  Okay...I will run to the bathroom, so when she comes out, I will be ready.  

The minute I came back from the bathroom, they said, "The nurse just came to get you."  My heart was beating one hundred miles a minute....and I rushed back to John's room.  

"It's out!" she said, "and he's doing great."  John was smiling ear to ear when I walked in.  He was already talking and ordering people around.  "You have just unleashed the BEAST," I said.  Little did they know.

His P.A., Ms. Adams, no relation, but John immediately called her 'his people', starting giving him instructions on what HE was going to have to do to make sure the tube stayed out.  She told him she didn't like to be reprimanded for taking a tube out too early, so he had to do his part.  Breathe in through his nose, out through his mouth, cough frequently to get the mucous up, and do whatever the nurses told him to do or she would put it right back in.  John looked at her and said, "Oh no you won't!"  Ms. Adams got right in his face and said, "If you don't do what we have asked you to do and your numbers go down, I will put that tube right back in and there is nothing you can do about it, understand?"  She got his attention.

He was parched, he wanted something to drink so very bad, but he could only have a few ice chips.  Of course, that was better than nothing.   

I rushed outside and told everyone he had the tube out and they all cheered.  It was a little after 7:30 and it had been a long, long day.  But a good one.

PCQ

Continued - Breathing Tube

To be so tired, I didn't sleep that well.  Kept waking up and thinking about John, hands tied, and enduring that horrible breathing tube and pain from the surgery.  He had a 5+ inch cut just under his left breast with 11 staples.  Sort of looked like a smiley face mouth. Then there was the drainage tube about the size of your finger coming out of a hole in his tummy.  Though I knew he was being well cared for, he is nurse Stacey was a cracker Jack and I knew she had to be good to be there, I just wanted to be with him and make sure everything was being done to get that tube out as soon as possible.

So, about 5:30, I got up and started the day.  The drive was uneventful and it looked like it was going to be another hot, humid day in eastern NC.  I didn't make coffee at home, so I decided to stop at Starbuck's and pay an exorbitant amount for a good cup of coffee.  And it was good.

Next stop, 4th floor Heart Institute.  I went right in to be with John.  His nurse said he had a good night.  Now, I just needed to know what John had to do to have the breathing tube removed and when 'might' we expect that.  She told me they would be taking blood samples periodically.  Those samples would be sent to the lab and results automatically sent back via computer within 30 minutes.  When he had two consecutive blood samples that met the requirements, the tube could be removed.  It 'may' be done that day.  If, by a certain time....say 7 p.m., if his numbers were still not good, then the decision would be made to do it the next day, which was Saturday.

Of course, it became my mission to make sure it was out that day.  I could look at his face and see a grimace, he was not happy.  After being with him for awhile, he started to awake.  Every time his eyes would open, I could see distress.  Almost a look of, what's going on?  Where am I?  So, with a smile on my face, I started explaining what had happened.  The doctor had told me he was giving John something so he wouldn't remember all of this due to the distress associated with the breathing tube and I didn't want him being frightened because he didn't know what was going on.

He was pulling at his hands, not understanding why he couldn't move them.  He wanted to be untied, but the nurse and I both explained again why he was unable to move his arms.  After a while, I had to go out to the waiting room.  It was just too stressful to stay for a long time.

While I was in the waiting room, my friends and family started coming and calling. I had cautioned everyone not to call, I would send out updates via text or email.  It is just too hard to contact everyone every time something changed.  It's not that I didn't want to call, I just had one main focus, look after my baby.  My friends had readily taken on the phone tree role and would call or send out information.  Those calls would trigger another group to be called.  It worked.

Leslie, sweetheart daughter of my red headed girlfriend with blonde highlights, Watusi (a.k.a Paula) came.  Leslie is a physical therapist and a great resource for me during all of this.  Don't know what I would have done without her arm around my shoulders telling me how good I was doing.

Her mom was out of town attending a wedding and would be gone for another week.  We had made the decision that we wouldn't tell Paula about John's situation and spoil her fun.  Paula and her husband, Tony, were on a train ride up north, going to major league baseball games, visiting with old college roommates, and spending time with family she hadn't seen in some time.  What could she do other than worry being so far away?  Let her have fun, she would find out about all of this soon enough....and Paula would worry, lots....and we wanted her to have fun.

So, with Leslie in tow, I went back to see John.  I needed Leslie's help, to look at him, check out the monitors, see all the things I may miss.  Not that I didn't think everything was being done for him, I just needed assurance.

As soon as we walked in and spoke, John's eyes opened.  The sedation was starting to wear off and he was becoming more alert.  Being so tall, and having his head elevated, he had slipped down in the bed.  Leslie looked at his feet.  "His foot is pressed against the foot of the bed, we need to get him back up in the bed so the pressure doesn't damage the skin on his foot," she said.  The nurse came in and Leslie told her he needed to be slid back up.  She said she would call someone to help her, but Leslie told her she was a P.T. and could help.  They lowered John's head so he was flat and grabbed the sheet under him on both sides, lifted him, and gently slid him back up.   John didn't like it one bit but there wasn't much he could do.  The alarms were going off again and he was agitated.  But...his feet were back up in the bed now.

Leslie checked all the monitors and explained what each one indicated.  Showed me where the time for each was noted and we looked at his medications.  No antibiotics....that was good.  After a few more minutes, we went out of the room.

Leslie had a friend who is a P.A. and was very familiar with this type of surgery and what was involved, so she was our "phone a friend".  If we had any questions....phone a friend.  She was ever so helpful and let us know what we could do to make sure the breathing tube was removed as soon as possible.  I was making friends with all the people working with John and they were ever so admiring of his fortitude.  On my next visit back with John, he was completely awake and smiled when I walked in.  He was trying so hard to talk, but every time he tried it would start the beeping and alarms.

I got up close to the bed and rubbed his forehead.  I said, "Listen to me Baby, you had surgery because you couldn't breathe, remember? The doctor took fluid from around your heart."  He nodded his head and tried to talk again.  "Don't try to talk, you have a breathing tube in your mouth and it will be there until your blood numbers are good enough for it to be removed.  That's what we want today, okay?"  He nodded again.  The nurse was doing some things and had loosened the ties on his hands.  I was ever so frightened he would inadvertently jerk out the tube.  But the nurse said, "He has been really good about understanding he can't touch the breathing tube."  Even with her assurance, I was still edgy.  It would set us back so quickly if the tube was dislodged and he had to be sedated to have it put back in.  He wanted something to drink, but she couldn't give him anything.  All we could do was put those little wet swabs in his mouth and try to make it better.  Though I don't think it helped very much.

John held his right hand up just above his stomach and made a waving motion.  He was trying to tell me something.  "What is it?" I said.  He kept waving his hand...."Do you want something to write on?"  He nodded his head, yes.

The nurse went to get a piece of paper and a marker.  I grabbed a book to support the paper.  He took the marker and tried to write but his hand was so unsteady, he was struggling to hold it still.  Slowly but surely he wrote, "I LOVE YOU", and looked at me and smiled.  The tears just welled up in my eyes and the nurse said, "That is so sweet".  He tried to write more, but the magic marker was just too big for him to control very well, so we grabbed a pen.

Next he wrote, "How much liquid?" Referring to the liquid around his heart.  "Almost two liters", I said.  He had a look of surprise.  I asked if he was in pain?  He pointed at his chest and wrote, "I can't move."  The nurse told him he could breathe, but the breathing tube was forcing his chest to fill and it would make him think he wasn't able to move his chest, but that was the way it was supposed to feel.  Then he wrote, "Friday?"  "Yes, it is Friday," I said.

He tried writing something again and I couldn't read it.  He was getting weak and discouraged because his hands wouldn't cooperate.  Then he pointed at the clock on the wall.  I didn't understand what he was trying to tell me.  "Do you want to know what time it is?" I said, "It's 2:30 on Friday."  He shook he head no....and pointed at the clock again.  I didn't know what he was trying to tell me, but then he took the pen and wrote, "Glasses".  Bless his heart, he couldn't see.  He was trying to tell me he needed his glasses to see the clock.

I had his glasses in my purse and quickly got them.  But by that time, he was growing weary and had dozed out again.  Wow....did he just do all those things?  It was amazing he was able to write and tell me what he was thinking.

His nurse was taking another blood sample.  The lab would notify her of the results, but it was unlikely the tube would be removed anytime soon.

To be continued....

PCQ

Continued - The Next Challenge

John's nurse came out and told me I could go back to see him in a few minutes.  They were getting him settled in the room and cleaning him up from surgery.

In about 15 minutes, she came to get me.  Of course, I was apprehensive about going in, I had no idea what I would find.  As she led me back to his room, she told me he had a breathing tube and was still sedated so he would probably not wake up when went in.

The rooms are spacious, beautiful and soothing in the Heart Institute.  There are large windows, ceiling to floor, down one side of the room, a bank of cabinets and a sink for the nurses' stuff, floors that look like hardwood, two flat screen tvs, one for the patient and one for family, two large comfy chairs, one that reclines and one that will convert into a single bed.  The bathroom is large enough for an entire family bath time and there is art on the walls.

Of course, all the monitors, machines, tubes, and people working on John quickly diverted my attention.  John looked so peaceful lying in the bed.  He had struggled so hard to breathe and now, there he was, resting comfortably.  I looked at all the monitors.  His heart rate was good, oxygen level good, blood pressure good, everything seemed to be okay.  The nurse had cautioned me that he had the breathing tube.  They are a necessary but terrible thing to endure.  A tube was forced down John's throat into his bronchial tubes. The tube is held in place around his mouth by massive amounts of tape, allowing little movement of his head, mouth or tongue.  Though he was breathing on his own, the breathing tube allows a machine to force the lungs to expand and fill with life saving oxygen.  With the tube taped in place, you can't talk, swallow, drink, or do anything else while it is in.  The body's gag reflex is so strong, you must be strongly medicated while the tube is in place so everything works and the patient isn't fighting the process.  John's hands were tied to the bed also.  It is necessary they said, when he starts to awake, his first reaction will be to get that tube out of his mouth, and that can't happen until his blood oxygen numbers are consistent.   Once they are consistent, the tube will be removed, but until then, he will not be a happy boy.  I knew all of this, my dad had surgery many years ago and he had the same thing.  Just looking at John brought all those memories back to me.  My dad was miserable the whole time and I knew John would be too.

I leaned over, touched his hand, kissed him and said, "Hey Baby."  His eyes opened slightly and with that, instant distress.  His face turned red and he chest heaved and he started trying to cough, but you can't cough with the breathing tube in.  It is like coughing through a straw the nurse said.  As his body struggled, the monitors started beeping and alarms were going off.  In a few minutes, he settled back down and I just stood and looked at him.  He still had lots of blood in and around his nose.  I wanted to wash it off but the nurse was working on him and trying to get all the tubes and machines adjusted.  I asked about his nose.  "We tried to put a tube down his nose to get any food from his stomach.  Since it was emergency surgery, there may have been undigested food and with the sedation any food left may cause an ulcer.  We couldn't get it down his nose so it is beside the breathing tube," she said.

I stayed with him for awhile.  "Are you going to spend the night?" the nurse asked.  "No," I said, "I'll be going home and come back first thing tomorrow.  What's the best time to be here in the morning?"

The receptionist had already told us they don't allow visitors to 'come and go' on shift changes.  Nurses have to go over charts and it is best to either be in or out, but no coming or going during that time.  And, my friend George had told me, "John will be looked after tonight, you go home and get some rest so you'll be fresh tomorrow."  He was right, it was Thursday night and I hadn't had any sleep since Tuesday night.  I was tired.

After a bit, I left.  It was a lonely walk to my car.  I was so tired I didn't think I could drive home, but the adrenaline lift from seeing John was okay, must have given me enough strength to make it home.  Coming into an empty house and crawling into an empty bed was hard.  So much had happened since I left.  But, John was going to be okay.  With that, I closed my eyes and fell asleep.

To be continued....
PCQ

Continued - Dr. Moran

The door opened and in walked Dr. Moran.  He quickly introduced himself and asked which of us was Mrs. Adams.  I shook his hand and then introduced John's sister Barbara, and my friend Joan.

He asked us to have a seat.  My heart was beating really fast, the anticipation of what he might say had overruled my efforts to stay in control.  I sat down and looked at him, the man that had hopefully, just saved my husband's life. He looked very confident and you would never know he had just performed major surgery.  He turned to me and said, "Your husband is doing fine.  I performed a thoracoscopic pericardial window and took almost two liters of fluid from around his heart.  His blood pressure and heart rate have returned to normal. I don't know who named it a 'window', but what we do is just cut a hole so the fluid can be drained, so, it isn't really a 'window' but that is the name of the procedure.   I did put a tube below the incision to drain any additional fluid.  We will monitor the drainage for several days and when the fluid decreases, the tube will be removed.  I will be giving him drugs that will cause him to be unable to remember all of this.  Mrs. Adams, I don't want to be overly dramatic, but I have done hundreds of these operations and I have never seen anyone with his statistics that survived.  He is one tough man.  His body somehow compensated for what was going on with his heart.  There was so much fluid around his heart it was unable to beat effectively and get oxygen through out his body, that is why he was struggling for every breath.  His acidic levels were minus 17, the worst I have documented and the fact that he was still able to talk to me and understand what I was saying just prior to the surgery is almost a miracle.  He should have been incoherent.  His liver and kidneys had already started shutting down and he was within one hour of dying.  When I go into the operating room, as the anesthesiologist is getting the patient ready, I normally check on things, make sure everything is in place and then begin surgery.  I didn't have that luxury today, as soon as the mask was put on his face, I had a knife in his chest.  We didn't have one second to lose.  He must be a strong man, I don't know how his body managed with all that was going on.  I know I have given you a lot of information, do you have any questions for me?"

All I heard was John was going to be okay.  But my mind started racing, was there any damage done, when can we see him, questions, questions, questions?  Dr. Moran answered all my questions, taking his time and making sure I understood.  He was so calm and his bedside manner was excellent.  He explained everything very well to me and was patient as I stumbled through the concerns I had.

"He will be moved to the 4th floor, the nurses there are very familiar with this surgery and are well equipped to take care of him.  One of my assistants will be in few minutes to get an authorization to insert a main line into his heart.  It will allow us to monitor his blood and give any medications he may need," he said.  With that he stood up and once again asked if there were any more questions.

After he left, his words had been so calming and confident, it took a few minutes for it all to sink in.  But then, we hugged each other, there were tears and we all squealed with delight....he was going to be okay.  Now, we just had to hope and pray for no other complications or infection.

A few minutes later, Dr. Moran's assistant came to get authorization for the procedure.  It would only take a few minutes he said, and once it was done, John would be moved to room 444 in the Heart Institute.

It had been a long day.  It was nearly 6:00 p.m. and I couldn't wait to see John and just hold his hand.

To be continued....

PCQ

Continued - After Surgery

The nurse got my cell phone number and told me someone would call as soon as the operation began.

"The waiting area for his surgery is on the fourth floor.  Someone from the surgical team will call you and Dr. Moran will meet with you after it is over.  Mr. Adams will stay in recovery for at least an hour.  So, now would be a good time for you to get a little rest and maybe have lunch.  I know you are exhausted."  The nurses and care partners had been wonderful.  Every way I turned, someone was trying to help me.

Several more friends had joined us now, and we decided to go downstairs and get a bite to eat in the Heart Institute Cafe.  Food there is heart healthy and with all the windows and fancy furnishings, it made for a pleasant place to rest, lick my wounds, and get ready for the next round.  George, our dear friend who works with the hospital, joined us too.  Then, our preacher, Martin, came.  Our circle of people who love John was growing and with everyone talking, saying prayers, and getting to know one another, it made the wait more tolerable for me.

George told us what a great heart surgeon and how well respected internationally, Dr. Moran was.  In all the flurry of activities, I hadn't even had time to think about John having the best doctor there was.  But George assured me, he was excellent.

We talked about the Heart Institute's state of the art operating rooms being the largest in the United States, our tax money at work. Seems Dr. Chitwood, the magnet who rallied to get the Heart Institute, a.k.a. "The Palace", built and successfully brought so many great people here to ECU, had a good friend in Texas that had the largest operating rooms in the USA. That was until this building was completed.  When they designed the operating rooms here, they were six inches LARGER than the operating rooms in Texas.  Six inches, but that was all it took to get bragging rights.  I didn't care how big the rooms were, I was just thankful, the surgeon in charge of my baby, was considered one of the best.

After what seemed like forever, I got a call, the operation was finished and Dr. Moran would be waiting for me upstairs.   I don't know if you have ever had a situation like this, you know there are so many things that could go wrong during surgery.  Your heart wants to believe everything is okay and life will be good again.  But....the reality of the situation keeps reminding you that maybe everything didn't go as it should and once that doctor walks in the room, your life may be changed forever.  I was trying ever so hard not to fight demons that may or may not appear, but it was hard.  I gathered up my things and with all my friends in tow, we headed toward the elevators.

When I arrived in the waiting area, I was greeted by one of Dr Moran's associates.  Dr. Moran was changing out of his scrubs and he would meet me in the conference room in just a few minutes.  I asked John's sister Barbara, and my dear friend, Joan, to come in with me.  Sometimes, when there is so much information being given, an extra set of ears, can help make sure everything is heard and understood.  I sat down in the chair just next to the one for Dr. Moran.  Joan and Barbara were seated to my left.  The room was paneled in wood and very well appointed.  And, there were plenty of tissues, just in case.  We sat there quietly, each in our own world of thought, praying John was okay.

The door opened and Dr. Moran came in.

To be continued....

PCQ

Continued - Into Surgery

I was scared but relieved as they wheeled him away.  One of the doctors said, "We will call you as soon as they begin the procedure."

It was meltdown time for me.  No sleep, no food, questions about what was happening.....it all seemed to be spiraling out of control.  What was I forgetting, what questions didn't I ask?  What more should I or could I do?

We sat there quietly in the room for a few minutes.  I felt like I had just gotten off a roller coaster ride and needed a bit of time to let my body return to a normal state.  What do I do now?

"Mr. Adams probably will not be coming back to this room, so take your things with you.  Dr. Moran is the lead surgeon and he always wants his patients down near the operating room.  So John won't come back here, " the nurse said.  

I set about gathering John's things, his shoes, belt, shorts, and put them in what I call his "Shula" bag.  It's actually a white, (with assorted travel scars) L. L. Bean canvas bag with green handles, but there's a story behind it.  When our youngest daughter, Lauren, graduated from high school at NC School of the Arts in Winston Salem, we stayed at the Hilton Hotel downtown.  When we were packing that day for Winston Salem, he put his things in that same bag.  As he was packing, I looked at him and said, "Why don't you use one of the good suitcases instead of that old bag?"  "There's nothing wrong with this bag, it holds everything I need," he said.  Whatever, it wasn't worth an argument, so we readied ourselves and headed to Winston Salem for graduation weekend.

The afternoon sun was spilling into the hotel and everything was beautiful.  It just so happened there was also a huge Buick Open golf tournament that same weekend at Tanglewood Country Club, a wonderful facility just outside of town.  There were welcome signs everywhere for all the celebrities they were expecting.  We unloaded our car and John went to check us in.  There was a line waiting to register, filled with famous people.  Yogi Berra, Buck Owens, soap opera stars, every way I turned, I saw a face I recognized.  I stood in amazement watching people while John got in line for a room.  In a few minutes, I looked over at him smiling from ear to ear, he was standing behind NFL Hall of Fame and winningest coach in football history, Don Shula.  John smiled and pointed at Shula's bag.  Guess what Shula had his clothes in?  An old tired L.L. Bean canvas bag, just like the one I had complained about.  I never said anything else about that old bag, and it became known as the Shula bag.

To be continued.....

PCQ

Continued - Arrived at PCMH

The drive to the hospital was uneventful, hardly no one on the road.  There was a storm front moving through the area and the clouds to the west were full of lightning, it would be raining soon.

It was exactly midnight when I pulled up to the emergency room entrance.  Looked like it had been a lively evening.  There were people everywhere, even sitting out on the grass. The air was heavy and it really felt like a hot August night.

I quickly grabbed a wheel chair for John.  Soon, there was an attendant to help me and he was whisked inside.  A few papers to sign and we were taken back to a holding area.   His nurse was on task, she quickly gathered information and started working on John.  Though she wanted him to lay down on the gurney, he couldn't breathe.  Blood was drawn, IVs started, X-rays, and other tests were done.  A breathing treatment was started and oxygen added, it helped John some.  I curled up in a chair by his bed.  I was tired and wanted to sleep, but every time I started to doze off, something would bring me back.

There was a lady across from us that was having or had a heart attack and her family looked like they may have just appeared on "My Big Fat Redneck Wedding", someone a few bays over was wailing loudly, and poor John just couldn't get relief in his breathing.

Dr. Lee, John's oncologist came in around 6:30.  We discussed the situation.  After hearing all of the concerns, I had to ask, "Do I need to call my girls and tell them to come?  One daughter is in Paris, does she need to come home?"  He looked at me and said, "This is a serious situation, but it can be addressed.  He won't die from this unless something else goes wrong." I had been texting with Meredith since midnight and sending emails to Lauren. Paris is six hours ahead of us so her morning was just beginning. Both were very upset.

Finally, around 9 that morning they got him ready to be moved to a room in the Heart Institute, a state of the art facility, and I was ever so thankful for it.  Seems there was a large amount of fluid around his heart.

After getting settled in his room on the fifth floor, we waited.  His breathing was some better, the oxygen had helped.  Soon after, our friend Joan came to be with me.  John's sister Barbara came later.  Several doctors paraded in and out assessing the situation.  PCMH is a learning hospital for East Carolina School of Medicine, so teams of future doctors were learning from John.

One of the heart doctors came in to talk with me.  There was fluid around his heart and it was constricting function.  The pericardium sack that surrounds the heart was so full of extra fluid, John's heart could not function well enough to get oxygen through out his body.  That was causing the problem.  There was also fluid by one of his lungs too, but the biggest issue right now was his heart.  His body couldn't continue at this rate. There were two options, draw off the fluid with a needle, or cut his chest open, remove the fluid and put a drainage tube in place for any other fluid that collects.  At that point, they were not sure which procedure would be done but they had scheduled the operating room for emergency surgery at 2:30.  He would monitor John's stats and be back soon to get papers signed.

John's condition continued to deteriorate.  I could see it in his eyes.  His ears were starting to turn purple from lack of oxygen and he was still so cold, even after they brought a heated blanket to put on him.  He reminded me of some of our animals on the farm.  When they get sick they will go in a corner and their extremities will start turning dark blue from lack of oxygen.  I was scared.  They came in to take his temperature and I heard her say, "That's not right," and she checked his other ear.  Same thing.  "What is his temperature?" I said.  "92.3 degrees", she said, "but that can't be right." "Yes it is, it was 92.8 when we left home."  John's numbers continued to decline.

A nurse came in to get more blood to cross type in case he needed a transfusion.  It just happened to be a young lady that was in the same class in grade school as our daughter, Lauren.  She was very concerned about John's condition and now we had another problem, they couldn't get the blood needed for surgery.  After 3 different people tried in about 30 minutes of probing, prodding and sticking, the decision was made to stop. Blood would have to be taken just prior to surgery when he was asleep.  I was so thankful they stopped, and was exhausted just watching all John was having to endure though he was taking it bravely.  But, he was getting weaker, he could barely speak.  Next, in came a care partner to shave his chest and prepare him for surgery.  John has a hairy chest and when she finished, the floor looked like a large shaggy dog had just been groomed.

By now it was after one in the afternoon and John was getting worse.  Joan, Barbara and I watched the clock, hoping they would be there soon to get him to surgery.  We all held hands and said a prayer.  Soon, a team of doctors came in and I could see the concern in their eyes.  They were going to open his chest and cut a pericardium window, basically poking a hole in the balloon that was holding his heart, there was just too much fluid to use a needle.

In a few minutes a gurney arrived and they had to move John on to it to be transported to surgery. He had so little energy, it was a struggle to get him moved.  They left us alone in the room for a minute and I asked if there was anything regarding work or the farm that I needed to take care of.  He told me he needed to get some feed for the farm, but he get that ordered when he got back from surgery.  I looked at him and said, "Baby, I don't think you will be able to do that when you get back today, I'll take care of it for you."  I kissed and hugged him, and told him how much I loved him...we held each other tightly.

But he was ready to go, and out of no where yelled, "Let's go!" It startled me.  He knew he was really sick.  The nurse ran in thinking something had happened but I told her, he wants to get out of here and into surgery.  Trying to hide my tears, I smiled, squeezed his big, cold hand, and they whisked him away.

To be continued....

PCQ

Been A Tough Couple of Days

John's been sick.  Since he's my hero, it's been kinda like watching Superman when they would throw that Kryptonite stuff on him and then he couldn't fly and his super powers wouldn't work.

First it was acute bronchitis.  We thought we had our arms around that situation, even though he was still having a few problems.  "Takes awhile to get over a tough case of bronchitis," the doctor said, so, I expected him to be better as each day passed.

That didn't happen.  Wednesday, he got worse.  The day started out okay, but soon, I could tell, Superman wasn't doing well.  Since he had slept quite a bit that day, I really pushed him to stay up, at least till nine o'clock and then I would give him his medicine and we would go to bed.  And he did.  But he was cold and just couldn't seem to get the blanket up tight enough around him.  After a bit I dozed off, but something woke me up.  When I slid my leg over toward him, he was cold.  I mean really cold, cold enough that in my sleepy state, I thought he was dead.  But then he moved and said, "I can't breathe."  He got up and sat on the side of the bed.  He still couldn't get his breath.  I went to the medicine cabinet and found the thermometer.  92.8, something was really wrong.  By now, his breathing was even more labored and I told him we need to get to the hospital.  "No, maybe I will get better in a few minutes," he said ever so faintly.

The eleven o'clock news was coming on and John struggled to get up and make it to the bathroom, his breathing was short and quick and it was obvious, he was in very much distress.  But he couldn't get back to the bed, a mere 15 feet away.

"We have to go to the hospital, now," I said, "how much longer do you think you can go on like this?"  "Call the doctor, see what he says," John said with a barely audible voice.

After talking with his doctor, who directed me to get him to the ER ASAP, we still had to get to the hospital, which is about 25 minutes away.  "Do you want me to call the rescue squad?"  "No, I want you to take me.  Pull the Tahoe up to the front door, I don't think I can walk all the way to the garage."

John was in severe distress and I was getting scared, he wasn't even able to get out of the bedroom, much less walk down the hall, down the front steps and to the car.  Our house is 114 feet end to end, and our bedroom is at one end....the garage at the other.

So, I started thinking, how can I get him out?  Wheels, I need wheels, so I got the office computer chair that has five large rollers.  As I rolled it to the bedroom to get John, I realized it probably wouldn't roll over the Oriental rugs I had in the hallway once he was in the chair, there was too much padding under them, so I quickly rolled them up and got everything out of the way.  After that, I got our two dogs and put them in the laundry room so they wouldn't cause a problem as we maneuvered our way down the steps.

John was barely able to stand up and get to the chair, but we made it and I rolled him slowly down the hall, through the living room and kitchen, and to the back door.  "I always knew you were a good Girl Scout," he said softly, referring to my ingenuity in using the computer chair.

I had moved the Tahoe as close as I could to the steps.  Slowly, he stood up and I locked my arms around his waist. Our next challenge was getting down the steps without falling.  We made it to the car, next stop PCMH ER.

To be continued....

PCQ

8-8-88 and 8-9-10

This morning I was looking over posts on Facebook.  One post caught my eye, 8-9-10, today's date.  John and I had just mentioned yesterday's date, 8-8, and we talked about our stone fireplace.  When we built our house in 1988, July and August were largely spent selecting and placing stones in the chimney.   One large stone on the end was placed the day my maternal grandfather, Maxie Wheeler died.  We formally capped off the top of the chimney outside with the date inscribed and a bright, shiny, new 1988 copper penny, on August 8, 1988, 8-8-88, the day it was finished.  Was just too much of a special date to let it go unnoticed.

Please note, our stone fireplace is the centerpiece and anchor for our home.  Massive 14 ft wide, walk around with big stones, some collected from far away parts of the world (I have picked up rocks and brought them home from all over the world, much to John's distress) and sprinkled them in, all the way to the ceiling, it is beautiful. Most of the stones are from the Linville River, in the mountains of NC.  Those stones had the color and texture we wanted, but there is also a ballast stone from the Pamunkey River in Virginia, a "fools gold" stone my girls found at a cow show in South Carolina, a rock from the Tower of London, a stone from a beach in northern France, and many more.  All with a story.

Recently, we were flipping channels one night and happened upon an old tv show, Bonanza, a staple in all homes when we were growing up.  Hoss, Adam, and Little Joe, were talking to their daddy, Ben, in front of their fireplace.  Quess what, it looked a lot like ours.  Maybe watching the Cartwright family when we were growing up marked us both and made us yearn for that big stone fireplace.  Who knows?

We also put a time capsule, a large Cool Whip bowl filled with small tokens of that time, a newspaper, and a letter about our family, in front of the firebox under a brown stone that has a fossil imprint.  It was a stone we found in Canada's Bay of Fundy, many years ago on a wonderful camping trip with our dear friends, Kay and Bill.  The Bay of Fundy has the greatest tide change of any place in the world due to the unique shape of the bay.  And there are warning signs all about cautioning visitors to be aware of the extreme tides.  They can range up to 48 feet, so it is necessary to pay attention and not get caught during a rising tide with no place to retreat.

Amazing how a date, or that one little stone can pull up so many wonderful memories, but it did.  Life is like that.  You see or hear or smell something and a flood of memories come to you.  Of course, we hope they are good memories, and it depends on the life we have had for that part.  But that little brown stone sure brings back a host of good times to me.

Guess I've always had rocks in my wagon.

PCQ

John's First Day of Chemotherapy

John was up early this morning and off to work.  Had a few things he needed to check on and then he was back to pick me up.  The appointment with Dr. Lee went well.  The PET scan results were in and showed a few other lymph nodes around the lungs that "lit up".  We were not surprised by that because cells had already been found in the lymph node that was removed last week.  I guess the best discovery was that no internal organs, other than the left lung, were involved.

John has developed a strong cough the past few days and had been having a fever off and on.  We were very concerned that his lung cancer was already causing the distress and discussed it with Dr. Lee.  After listening to his chest and examining a few other things, seems John has bronchitis, possibly caused by the tubes used last week during his lymph node surgery.  I know it is hard to be glad you have bronchitis, but we were extremely relieved that it was something that can be fixed.  Dr. Lee immediately wrote a prescription for an antibiotic to be taken at home and added an IV antibiotic to the medications he would receive today.

After meeting with Dr. Lee, he headed back to the chemotherapy room.  Thankfully, it was a quiet day with relatively few patients, so John received lots of attention from the nurses.  With me already being a patient there, I had explained the process to him so it went well.  We did ask if we could get a reduced rate since there are two of us....you know, "Buy one ~ Get one for half price."  Apparently, that is not available at this time.  We tried!

Once he was hooked up and had everything going, I ran and got his antibiotic prescription filled and picked up lunch and brought it to him.  Once you are in the chair and tethered to the IV pole, your only travel is local...to the restroom.

All in all, the day went well.  Glad the cough will quiet down once the antibiotics start working, and thrilled there are only a few small places showing additional cancer growth.  Of course, that is still not good, but given locations that could have been affected, the brain, liver, etc., we must be thankful.  Now we wait.  Wait and pray that the drugs administered today will work.  Luckily, the drugs given have very few side effects.  He may tire easily due to blood counts possibly being lowered, but that will be monitored closely.  Dr. Lee wants to see him next week for a quick blood test just for that reason.

It was a long day for him but I could tell he was very relieved that the cough will be better soon.

Thanks to everyone for your prayers and thoughtful contacts as we walk this difficult road.  One of my friends recently told me, she loved helping us, it is my Emmaus ministry.  "I am God's hands and feet," she said.

Enough said.

PCQ

John's Birthday Party

Don't we look like a happy bunch?  What a grand time we had.  Great conversations, lots of laughs, good food, and best of all, fellowship with dear friends.

We were hesitant to plan the evening. Joan and Paula had both called and offered to bring food or meet us somewhere.  I wasn't sure what to do.  Didn't know how I would feel after a long day of chemotherapy, but I was okay.  Didn't know how John would be.  He's still getting over the surgery on his neck and was up very early for the PET scan. But we rallied and got er done!

We laughed about old stories.  One of my favorites is from my friend taking her daughter on a shopping trip for shampoo.  Seems Dear Daughter always wants to buy the most expensive kind.  Mother wanted to use it as a teaching moment and help Dear Daughter understand how much she was paying per ounce and to determine if that was indeed a good deal.  As they were looking over the large assortment of shampoos and conditioners, DD yelled, "Here's one for $1.99."  Mother says, "How much is in it?"  DD unscrews the top, looks in and yells back, "It's full to the top." Priceless!

The other funny tale from the same DD.  As they were traveling to the beach many years ago, a
U-HAUL truck was along side of them.  After studying the truck for a few minutes, DD blurts out, "U-HAUL....I get it!"  Yes indeed she did, and to this day, I never see a U-HAUL truck without getting a smile on my face.

The final story involves the Piggly Wiggly, hence the photo just for her.  When my friend's DD was in the fifth grade, there was a young boy who tormented her daily.  He took her pencils, money, anything she had he tried to get.  To make it worse, he badgered her all the time too.  One night when the family was sitting down for dinner, DD started crying.  Mother wanted to know what was wrong.  DD told her the boy that was harassing her told everybody in the class that "her mama shops at the Piggly Wiggly," and she exploded in tears.

Now I am not sure exactly why that was considered to be so bad, but for a fifth grader under constant pressure from the class bully, it sure did the trick.  And after hearing that story, it has become one of my favorite sayings....."Yo mama shop at the Piggly Wiggly."  Another smile, so we couldn't leave tonight without getting a photo of birthday boy pointing at the Piggly Wiggly for our friend's DD.

Thanks to all who made tonight special for John.  I hope you had as much fun as we did.

PCQ  (I'm sticking with the pig!)

Treatment #4

Today is John's birthday and we should never, ever, take them for granted.   The American Cancer Society's slogan, Sponsoring More Birthdays, really makes you think.  More birthdays, that is what we all hope for isn't it?

And though it is his birthday, it probably wasn't spent the way he would like to spend it.  He had to be at PCMH this morning at 7 a.m. for his PET scan.  He could have had it later in the day, but John being John, wanted it early so he could get it done, get to work, and not be hindered.  Ain't he amazing?

When he checked in to get his treatment, the nurse realized it was his birthday.  John, jokingly told her, he just knew they would have balloons, be singing, and have cake and ice cream, for him.  Well, after the scan, he walks into the hall and there they are, singing Happy Birthday and holding balloons and a card.  What a sweet thing for them to do for my baby!

I didn't go with him for the PET scan because I was scheduled for chemo treatment #4 today and had to be at the doctor's office early too.  It was the regular routine, get blood taken by the vampire nurse so they can see if everything is going well, see the doctor and then get hooked up for treatment.  My blood numbers are trending down.  The doctor said this was normal, but he didn't want it to go too low, so I will have booster shot on Thursday when I get my travel chemo pump taken removed.  The shot will cause my bone marrow to go into overdrive trying to make good cells and hopefully get my numbers back up.  But, the nurses said it will make my back hurt pretty bad.

As I was leaving and walking toward my hot car, drained, weak, and tired, from five hours of chemo, I heard a voice...."Pat Adams, is that you?"  I looked over and saw a young lady I know.  (I will not mention her name because I didn't ask her permission to tell this story.)  She was getting out of her car and I walked over to speak to her.  "I was just thinking about you and praying for you and your husband....I read your blog and whenever I feel down and out, I go and get inspiration from your posts," she said.  I thanked her and told her it had really helped me to share my story with people.  "You will never know how many people you have helped, you just don't know.  I'm here to see the doctor too, I'm having problems."  As she spoke, her eyes teared up and I could tell, she was scared.  Things were happening in her body that were not good.  It may be nothing, but she was getting ready to see a specialist and with that visit, she knew it could open the door for so many things, bad things.  From reading my blog, she knew the doctor was the same one that diagnosed my problem.

Sometimes these horrid things start out with just a little symptom and before you know it, your world has been turned up side down.  I tried to reassure her that she was young and it is probably nothing, but until she hears the doctor say that, my words just weren't enough.  We hugged each other, wiped our tears, and again she thanked me.  I headed for my car to go home....and she headed in to see the doctor.  Like all the others waiting inside, something is wrong and she is scared.

PCQ