"Something's not right", I told myself.
I had a pounding headache. I felt weak and squeamish. Tired and yet restless. Unable to concentrate.
I know something's wrong but I can't tell what it is.
I sat down and commanded myself to relax.
Slow, deep breaths. Try a Valsalva maneuver.
No go.
Ummm, now there's discomfort in the right chest. What the fuck is going on! My mind tried to analytically examine the symptoms as it tried to race to a diagnosis...
"You ok sweetie?", asks the wife.
"I don't know honey", I say, the uneasiness writ large on my face.
A raised eyebrow. She just looks me in the eye.
"I'm calling Tom" (my primary physician. We're old Army buddies).
We'd just got done moving homes and I thought I'd been working a little too hard in the sun. Over exertion. That's all it is...- at least, that's what I desperately wanted to believe; despite what the professional, logical part of my brain was trying to tell me...
"What for?!!" I protest. "Really, I'm just winded. Over exertion. I'll be FINE!", I insisted.
Adamantly.
Apparently, that clinched the deal. She quietly said "don't be foolish". Walked over, picked up the phone and began dialing.
"Sweetheart! I really..."
Never got a chance to finish what I was saying.
For right at the moment, I felt a sudden, sharp stabbing pain in my right chest. I doubled over in agony. My knees turned to jello and I crumpled to the floor.
I saw my wife's eyes go wide as saucers as she dropped the phone and raced to my side....
"He...l...p... m....e...." I barely managed to croak. My chest felt like someone had plunged a burning ***** into it and was twisting it around while and elephant had decided to stomp all over it.
I couldn't breathe. I drifted in and out of consciousness.
Most of what happened next is a big, confused blur. Distant, shouting voices. The smell of ******* and chlorhexidine and someone with a very strong perfume. Bright, glaring lights. Lots of people.
When I came to three days later, I had a hard, knotty sensation in my throat. It hurt. I tried to cough and I found out I couldn't. I cracked my eyes open a tiny slit - bright, harsh light. Despite the discomfort, I ****** my eyes to remain open.
Slowly they acommodated for light and glare.
I became aware of methodical beeps. From the depths of my mind came the thought: Monitor. That's a heart monitor.
I brought my eyes to focus closer - I saw a clear tube jutting out right in front of my nose.
My brain, never failing me, fed me the cold truth: ET tube. I'm intubated....
.... which means I'm in an ICU somewhere.
-----------------------
Long story short, I just recently got back home after a brief stint in my hospital ICU.
Diagnosis: Pulmonary Embolus with Flash Pulmonary Edema.
I'm lucky to be alive - if it were not for my quick thinking wife and the wonderful pros at my hospital, I would not be typing this post.
My "borrowed time" apparently hasn't run out yet...
- R.
I had a pounding headache. I felt weak and squeamish. Tired and yet restless. Unable to concentrate.
I know something's wrong but I can't tell what it is.
I sat down and commanded myself to relax.
Slow, deep breaths. Try a Valsalva maneuver.
No go.
Ummm, now there's discomfort in the right chest. What the fuck is going on! My mind tried to analytically examine the symptoms as it tried to race to a diagnosis...
"You ok sweetie?", asks the wife.
"I don't know honey", I say, the uneasiness writ large on my face.
A raised eyebrow. She just looks me in the eye.
"I'm calling Tom" (my primary physician. We're old Army buddies).
We'd just got done moving homes and I thought I'd been working a little too hard in the sun. Over exertion. That's all it is...- at least, that's what I desperately wanted to believe; despite what the professional, logical part of my brain was trying to tell me...
"What for?!!" I protest. "Really, I'm just winded. Over exertion. I'll be FINE!", I insisted.
Adamantly.
Apparently, that clinched the deal. She quietly said "don't be foolish". Walked over, picked up the phone and began dialing.
"Sweetheart! I really..."
Never got a chance to finish what I was saying.
For right at the moment, I felt a sudden, sharp stabbing pain in my right chest. I doubled over in agony. My knees turned to jello and I crumpled to the floor.
I saw my wife's eyes go wide as saucers as she dropped the phone and raced to my side....
"He...l...p... m....e...." I barely managed to croak. My chest felt like someone had plunged a burning ***** into it and was twisting it around while and elephant had decided to stomp all over it.
I couldn't breathe. I drifted in and out of consciousness.
Most of what happened next is a big, confused blur. Distant, shouting voices. The smell of ******* and chlorhexidine and someone with a very strong perfume. Bright, glaring lights. Lots of people.
When I came to three days later, I had a hard, knotty sensation in my throat. It hurt. I tried to cough and I found out I couldn't. I cracked my eyes open a tiny slit - bright, harsh light. Despite the discomfort, I ****** my eyes to remain open.
Slowly they acommodated for light and glare.
I became aware of methodical beeps. From the depths of my mind came the thought: Monitor. That's a heart monitor.
I brought my eyes to focus closer - I saw a clear tube jutting out right in front of my nose.
My brain, never failing me, fed me the cold truth: ET tube. I'm intubated....
.... which means I'm in an ICU somewhere.
-----------------------
Long story short, I just recently got back home after a brief stint in my hospital ICU.
Diagnosis: Pulmonary Embolus with Flash Pulmonary Edema.
I'm lucky to be alive - if it were not for my quick thinking wife and the wonderful pros at my hospital, I would not be typing this post.
My "borrowed time" apparently hasn't run out yet...
- R.
