Thursday, August 19, 2010

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

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Waiting eagerly for the next part.
Willamina