It is 11 p.m. I sit in a shared emergency department cubicle. An elderly man enters the room on an ambulance stretcher. His daughter is close by giving the medical staff a detailed explanation of her father's medical history and the events which lead to this visit.
The medical team cannot discern if the man had a stroke or seizure. The neurology team is summoned. After a brief examination and a CT scan, they decide he had a seizure. They give him Ativan, and almost immediately the man starts snoring.
As I listen to the man breathe, I notice there is something wrong. I cannot put my finger on it. I try to distract myself. But his breathing, it is just not right.
I am exhausted after a long day of traveling to a doctor's appointment and then being told I needed to go to the emergency department for prompt medical care. Fatigue overwhelms my body. However, sleep is fleeting with all the noise of the emergency department and the constant parade of medical personnel examining my roommate.
In an attempt to distract myself, I write an email. However, words from long ago suddenly drift through my head. "When you hear this type of breathing, do not be fooled. This is not snoring. The patient's breathing is very shallow. The patient need to be intubated." Instantly, these words from long ago make me realize what is wrong. My roommate's breathing is extremely superficial. That is what I am hearing. The man needs to be intubated.
It is 1:30 a.m. Doctor after doctor has come to see the man next to me. They do an exam including listening to his lungs with a stethoscope. I keep watching and wondering when someone will realize this man's breathing is too shallow. No one seems to notice my observation. I want to stop the doctors. "Listen. Listen to this man's breathing! It is very superficial. He needs to be on a ventilator." I know I can do nothing. Who am I to question a medical professional? Not knowing what else to do, I begin to pray. "LORD, please let the doctors realize this man needs to be intubated. Please let them figure this out before this man's vital signs crash. Please, help this man and his daughter. Please comfort the daughter."
The elderly man's daughter is one of the sweetest and most loving people I have ever met. Her love for her father radiates like a bright light around her. My heart breaks. I know this woman is soon going to be faced with a very difficult decision--should she or should she not allow her father to be intubated.
Finally around 4 a.m., the lead doctor realizes the man in the bed next to mine has extremely shallow breathing. The doctor listens carefully with his stethoscope. He listens and listens. He then abruptly tells the daughter, "Your father needs to be intubated. Is he DNR?" The daughter does not know if her father wishes to be intubated or not. The daughter is in complete anguish. She asks the doctor for some time to make the decision. The woman steps out of the room into the hallway to call someone. Five minutes pass before the daughter returns back to the room.
With much angst and trepidation , the daughter decides she will allow her father to be intubated. The doctor warns the daughter once her father is intubated, it is very likely he will be on a ventilator for the rest of his life. The daughter nearly starts to cry. The physician asks the daughter to leave the room. A medical team is summoned, and the man is intubated. Once the procedure is complete, and the man is safely on the ventilator, I breathe a sign of relief. I feel like I have been holding my breath these last few hours, praying for my roommate.
Now that the patient is intubated, I cannot help but continue to pray for the man and his daughter. I greatly fear that this man's life is ebbing away. Dread builds up within me that in a few days, this man's daughter will be planning his funeral. Grief and sorrow fill my soul.
Around 9 o'clock in the morning, my roommate is moved to the neuro intensive care unit. The man and his daughter exit my life, but their story remains engraved on my heart. For the rest of my hospital stay, I continually pray for the man and his daughter. I pray God heals the man. I pray the man is able to regain his ability to breathe on his own. I pray for God to give the daughter comfort, courage and strength. God heard and answered my prayers while in the emergency department. I pray He hears and answers my prayers again for this man and his daughter. I have never seen greater love than what this woman had for her father. Tears well up in my eyes as I think that one day these two souls will be separated. Such sweet, genuine love is so rare to find. May their love for each other continue for years to come.
Tuesday, July 30, 2019
Thursday, July 25, 2019
Together we are better
Last week at Bible study, two of the attendees brought a beautiful colored atlas of various maps and charts from the Bible to share with the group. The collection was illustrated in brilliant colors. Then, George and Barbara did a very kind, generous thing--they gave me colored copies of some of the maps. My heart overflows with great joy! The maps I have been using for the last two and a half years are in black and white, and they are very beat-up and tattered. These gorgeous maps will be a fantastic addition to teaching Bible study.
After study, another attendee asked if I wanted the maps laminated. Oh, what a wonderful suggestion! I eagerly agreed. Vicki took the maps with her and had them laminated.
This week, Vicki returned the maps to me. They were now safely behind thick plastic. I excitedly started using them during our Bible study. I could easily point to places on the map. The bright colors clearly define tribal territories. It was such a breeze to teach from these beautiful illustrations.
As I sit looking at the assortment of maps, I smile. I have wanted for such a long time colored maps, and maps showing different timeframes, which demonstrates how the land of Israel changed over the years. And now I have them! My heart swells with great love and happiness as I think how various members of the Bible study worked together to make the gathering better for everyone.
"As each has received a gift, use it to serve one another, as good stewards of God's varied grace." (1 Peter 4:10)
After study, another attendee asked if I wanted the maps laminated. Oh, what a wonderful suggestion! I eagerly agreed. Vicki took the maps with her and had them laminated.
This week, Vicki returned the maps to me. They were now safely behind thick plastic. I excitedly started using them during our Bible study. I could easily point to places on the map. The bright colors clearly define tribal territories. It was such a breeze to teach from these beautiful illustrations.
As I sit looking at the assortment of maps, I smile. I have wanted for such a long time colored maps, and maps showing different timeframes, which demonstrates how the land of Israel changed over the years. And now I have them! My heart swells with great love and happiness as I think how various members of the Bible study worked together to make the gathering better for everyone.
"As each has received a gift, use it to serve one another, as good stewards of God's varied grace." (1 Peter 4:10)
Tuesday, July 23, 2019
To the moon!
On a television screen, black and white images of a control room and numerous nervous people sit waiting and watching for Apollo 11 to safely descend upon the face of the moon. Although I am viewing these images via recordings made 50 years ago, the scene leaves me breathless! I cannot fathom what it must have been like five decades ago to not know the outcome of this mission. Would it be an incredible triumph or an epic failure?
Since I was a child, space and space exploration has fascinated me. One of my earliest childhood memories is visiting the Kennedy Space Center in Florida. It was mesmerizing to see up-close the enormous rockets and other vehicles used in space. It seemed nearly impossible for anyone to have left the confines of this earth and visited outer space. A seed of love for God's universe was planted in my heart.
Growing up, my dream was to attend space camp. I knew, however, that the camp was located too far away for me to travel there on my own. Moreover, the cost to attend space camp was beyond my meager allowance of $1 a week, which I received only if I completed all my chores.
When I was in eighth grade, a female engineer from NASA was a guest speaker in my science class. For 45 brief minutes, the scientist effortlessly spoke about mathematics and technology. She had a number of amazing science experiments which highlighted engineering feats NASA created for the space program.
Several years later, I had the incredible opportunity to visit the Smithsonian's Air and Space Museum in Washington, D.C. Although it was not space camp, there were numerous hands-on exhibits and interactive media which allowed a visitor to feel as though he had visited space. It was a sublime experience.
In 2013, as my mom and I were passing through Houston on a road trip, we spent a few nights in the city to give ourselves the opportunity to visit the Johnson Space Center. Some friends of ours, who have extensive knowledge about NASA and the space program, gave us a magnificent tour of the Johnson Space Center. I was overwhelmed with excitement to finally be at the real mission control! It was heart-stopping to listen to the numerous obstacles which constantly plagued the first mission to the moon. There were so many things which could (and perhaps should have) gone wrong. It was nothing but God's divine grace and guidance which sent Apollo 11 to the moon.
Since visiting the Johnson Space Center in Houston, I have longed to travel back to again explore the vast complex. I have discovered the Space Center hosts an event in which participants can have lunch with an astronaut! Although my ultimate fantasy is to blast off into space and explore the far reaches of the universe, the next best thing would be to talk to someone who has accomplished my dream. What a thrill that would be!
"The heavens are telling of the glory of God;
And their expanse is declaring the work of His hands.
Day to day pours forth speech,
And night to night reveals knowledge."
Psalm 19:1-2
Since I was a child, space and space exploration has fascinated me. One of my earliest childhood memories is visiting the Kennedy Space Center in Florida. It was mesmerizing to see up-close the enormous rockets and other vehicles used in space. It seemed nearly impossible for anyone to have left the confines of this earth and visited outer space. A seed of love for God's universe was planted in my heart.
Growing up, my dream was to attend space camp. I knew, however, that the camp was located too far away for me to travel there on my own. Moreover, the cost to attend space camp was beyond my meager allowance of $1 a week, which I received only if I completed all my chores.
When I was in eighth grade, a female engineer from NASA was a guest speaker in my science class. For 45 brief minutes, the scientist effortlessly spoke about mathematics and technology. She had a number of amazing science experiments which highlighted engineering feats NASA created for the space program.
Several years later, I had the incredible opportunity to visit the Smithsonian's Air and Space Museum in Washington, D.C. Although it was not space camp, there were numerous hands-on exhibits and interactive media which allowed a visitor to feel as though he had visited space. It was a sublime experience.
In 2013, as my mom and I were passing through Houston on a road trip, we spent a few nights in the city to give ourselves the opportunity to visit the Johnson Space Center. Some friends of ours, who have extensive knowledge about NASA and the space program, gave us a magnificent tour of the Johnson Space Center. I was overwhelmed with excitement to finally be at the real mission control! It was heart-stopping to listen to the numerous obstacles which constantly plagued the first mission to the moon. There were so many things which could (and perhaps should have) gone wrong. It was nothing but God's divine grace and guidance which sent Apollo 11 to the moon.
Since visiting the Johnson Space Center in Houston, I have longed to travel back to again explore the vast complex. I have discovered the Space Center hosts an event in which participants can have lunch with an astronaut! Although my ultimate fantasy is to blast off into space and explore the far reaches of the universe, the next best thing would be to talk to someone who has accomplished my dream. What a thrill that would be!
"The heavens are telling of the glory of God;
And their expanse is declaring the work of His hands.
Day to day pours forth speech,
And night to night reveals knowledge."
Psalm 19:1-2
Thursday, July 18, 2019
Viva Lost Computer
It is a city of bright lights, massive hotels and bigger than life entertainment. Sin City beckons folks from all around the world to try their hand at winning large jackpots...it also entices thieves to lurk in the shadows, waiting and watching for their next hit. It seems, my mom was one of the latest targets in Las Vegas crime.
Yesterday, my parents checked out of their hotel and walked through a large parking garage to their car. They loaded up their luggage and then left to see some more sights and sounds before leaving town. As they left the car, my dad locked the car using the car remote.
Several hours later, my parents returned to the car to continue their journey to Laughlin. Nothing seemed askew upon arriving and entering the car. My parents safely arrived at their hotel in Laughlin. When my mom needed her phone charger (located in her computer bag) to charge her phone, to her horror, her computer bag was gone! After searching and searching for the bag and calling the hotel in Las Vegas to inquire if anyone turned in the bag, the computer backpack seemed to have vanished into thin air. Upon close examination of the rental car, there was no evidence of forced entry.
My parents went to the local police station and filed a police report. Measures were taken to track the computer and lock the computer the next time someone accesses the internet using my mom's computer. After a long, frantic night, my parents had no success in locating the computer or computer bag along with a number of other accessories stored in the computer backpack--a DVD player, computer storage backup, phone charger, etc. With a heavy heart and without her computer bag, my mom boarded the plane in the morning to fly back home.
In retrospect, the following is most likely what happened. After checking out of their Las Vegas hotel, my parents had to walk to their rental car in the parking garage. Pulling luggage and wearing her computer backpack, it is very likely a thief saw his target. My parents loaded up the car with their bags. My dad locked the car using the keyless remote. The criminal very likely had a skimmer which intercepted the signal sent from the remote to the car. When my parents left the parking garage to enjoy a few more hours in Vegas, the thief now had time to unlock the car using the electronic signal captured by his skimming device and easily steal the computer bag.
Lessons learned from this incident: NEVER use your keyless remote to lock your car. Instead, push the "lock" button located on the inside of your car door. Second, if you load up your car with luggage in a public parking area, move your car to a different parking lot or to a different level in the parking garage if you plan to leave your car. (This will make it harder for thieves to know if you have luggage in your vehicle.) Third, take your valuables with you. (Yes, we are all told this, but even "hiding" your items in your car will not prevent theft. If the criminal knows you have an item, they will search your vehicle to find it.) Fourth, know everything is from God. What seems like a complete loss and catastrophe may become your biggest blessing. Stay positive and know that in the end, God will render the ultimate judgment.
Yesterday, my parents checked out of their hotel and walked through a large parking garage to their car. They loaded up their luggage and then left to see some more sights and sounds before leaving town. As they left the car, my dad locked the car using the car remote.
Several hours later, my parents returned to the car to continue their journey to Laughlin. Nothing seemed askew upon arriving and entering the car. My parents safely arrived at their hotel in Laughlin. When my mom needed her phone charger (located in her computer bag) to charge her phone, to her horror, her computer bag was gone! After searching and searching for the bag and calling the hotel in Las Vegas to inquire if anyone turned in the bag, the computer backpack seemed to have vanished into thin air. Upon close examination of the rental car, there was no evidence of forced entry.
My parents went to the local police station and filed a police report. Measures were taken to track the computer and lock the computer the next time someone accesses the internet using my mom's computer. After a long, frantic night, my parents had no success in locating the computer or computer bag along with a number of other accessories stored in the computer backpack--a DVD player, computer storage backup, phone charger, etc. With a heavy heart and without her computer bag, my mom boarded the plane in the morning to fly back home.
In retrospect, the following is most likely what happened. After checking out of their Las Vegas hotel, my parents had to walk to their rental car in the parking garage. Pulling luggage and wearing her computer backpack, it is very likely a thief saw his target. My parents loaded up the car with their bags. My dad locked the car using the keyless remote. The criminal very likely had a skimmer which intercepted the signal sent from the remote to the car. When my parents left the parking garage to enjoy a few more hours in Vegas, the thief now had time to unlock the car using the electronic signal captured by his skimming device and easily steal the computer bag.
Lessons learned from this incident: NEVER use your keyless remote to lock your car. Instead, push the "lock" button located on the inside of your car door. Second, if you load up your car with luggage in a public parking area, move your car to a different parking lot or to a different level in the parking garage if you plan to leave your car. (This will make it harder for thieves to know if you have luggage in your vehicle.) Third, take your valuables with you. (Yes, we are all told this, but even "hiding" your items in your car will not prevent theft. If the criminal knows you have an item, they will search your vehicle to find it.) Fourth, know everything is from God. What seems like a complete loss and catastrophe may become your biggest blessing. Stay positive and know that in the end, God will render the ultimate judgment.
Tuesday, July 16, 2019
Just sign...so we can get paid
After numerous hospitalizations and far too many detours, I finally have a PICC line and insurance approval for home IV antibiotics. The next step was to play phone tag with the home infusion pharmacy and the home health agency. They had to coordinate care. I needed to get the IV antibiotics, and then home health had to setup a time to visit me to show me how to infuse the antibiotics. I could not start taking the antibiotics until home health visited me.
Normally, the IV antibiotics are sent out via a shipping company and delivered the following day. However, since this was my first shipment, the infusion company hired a courier company to hand deliver the supplies (and most importantly have me sign a stack of papers which gave the infusion company the right to bill my insurance). The infusion company insisted I needed to setup home delivery ASAP. I spent an entire day waiting at home, waiting for the courier to deliver my medicine. Finally at 6:25 p.m., the delivery man arrived. He quickly set the box of supplies down on the floor. Then he handed me paper after paper to sign. In a flash, the man was gone.
The following day, the home health company called to ask if I had received my antibiotics. I said I had received the shipment the night before. The woman asked if I have been on the antibiotic before. Yes, I have been on the antibiotic while hospitalized. The woman asked if I have done IV antibiotics at home. Yes, I have been on home IV antibiotics in the past. The woman said she would send a nurse out to my home.
An hour later, a nurse appears at my front door. She quickly pulls out a stack of papers and starts asking me questions. She panics when I say I have a PICC line. “Oh, I haven’t worked with one of those in years,” the nurse replies. The woman hands me a stack of papers and has me sign sheet after sheet giving the home health company permission to bill my insurance. She takes my vitals and records the information. She asks if I have been on home IV antibiotics before. I say, yes, I have. She gathers up her things and tells me someone will contact me later in the week to draw some blood work. She then leaves.
I am left dumbfounded. I have never been on this IV antibiotic at home before. I have never had this type of drug delivery system. In the past, I have had premixed syringes full of the antibiotic. I just had to push the syringe contents slowly into my PICC line. This delivery system required mixing a vial of powdered antibiotic into a bag of saline. The saline solution then had to be spiked and primed through an extension set. The gravity pump had to be set to the proper speed, etc. I know this is not rocket science, but I have never done this type of infusion before. I have a box full of all sorts of supplies, some of which I have no idea what the items are for.
Like I have been challenged so many times before, I take my need to YouTube. I type in some key words and up pops a video by Sutton Health. In the short film, a woman goes step by step on how to setup and use a gravity infused medication. The video is very thorough and informational. I breathe a sign of relief when the woman explains all the supplies needed. (I now know the purpose for every item in my box of supplies.) I am grateful for YouTube and this video upload. I am grateful some people took time out of their busy day to inform patients such as myself who have not received guidance on how to use their medication. Praise God!
Normally, the IV antibiotics are sent out via a shipping company and delivered the following day. However, since this was my first shipment, the infusion company hired a courier company to hand deliver the supplies (and most importantly have me sign a stack of papers which gave the infusion company the right to bill my insurance). The infusion company insisted I needed to setup home delivery ASAP. I spent an entire day waiting at home, waiting for the courier to deliver my medicine. Finally at 6:25 p.m., the delivery man arrived. He quickly set the box of supplies down on the floor. Then he handed me paper after paper to sign. In a flash, the man was gone.
The following day, the home health company called to ask if I had received my antibiotics. I said I had received the shipment the night before. The woman asked if I have been on the antibiotic before. Yes, I have been on the antibiotic while hospitalized. The woman asked if I have done IV antibiotics at home. Yes, I have been on home IV antibiotics in the past. The woman said she would send a nurse out to my home.
An hour later, a nurse appears at my front door. She quickly pulls out a stack of papers and starts asking me questions. She panics when I say I have a PICC line. “Oh, I haven’t worked with one of those in years,” the nurse replies. The woman hands me a stack of papers and has me sign sheet after sheet giving the home health company permission to bill my insurance. She takes my vitals and records the information. She asks if I have been on home IV antibiotics before. I say, yes, I have. She gathers up her things and tells me someone will contact me later in the week to draw some blood work. She then leaves.
I am left dumbfounded. I have never been on this IV antibiotic at home before. I have never had this type of drug delivery system. In the past, I have had premixed syringes full of the antibiotic. I just had to push the syringe contents slowly into my PICC line. This delivery system required mixing a vial of powdered antibiotic into a bag of saline. The saline solution then had to be spiked and primed through an extension set. The gravity pump had to be set to the proper speed, etc. I know this is not rocket science, but I have never done this type of infusion before. I have a box full of all sorts of supplies, some of which I have no idea what the items are for.
Like I have been challenged so many times before, I take my need to YouTube. I type in some key words and up pops a video by Sutton Health. In the short film, a woman goes step by step on how to setup and use a gravity infused medication. The video is very thorough and informational. I breathe a sign of relief when the woman explains all the supplies needed. (I now know the purpose for every item in my box of supplies.) I am grateful for YouTube and this video upload. I am grateful some people took time out of their busy day to inform patients such as myself who have not received guidance on how to use their medication. Praise God!
Tuesday, July 9, 2019
Happy Medical New Year!
It is July! And for anyone associated with the medical field, that means it is a new year! On July 1st, the year on the medical calendar flips. July 1st is the day in which fellowship and residency programs start. July 1st is a day in which mass chaos descends upon most teaching hospitals.
All across the nation, recent medical school graduates are showing up for their first day of "work". They are now interns at the bottom rung of the ladder. After completing their intern year, they then go on to become residents. After completing residency, physicians can complete additional training in fellowship programs.
With all that said, July 1st is a very busy and chaotic day at the hospital. As with starting any new job, there is much confusion. There is a steep learning curve for trying to figure out a hospital's layout and trying to be at the right place at the right time. The dynamics for many medical teams have changed, and roles have to be assigned to every individual in the group. There are many aches and pains as these newly formed teams have to learn to work together.
A few years ago, I was in the hospital in the intensive care unit shortly after the medical new year. My doctor wanted to change out my tracheostomy tube. When my medical team left my room, the physician told an intern to go to central supply to get several items needed to exchange my tracheostomy tube. The intern was eager for the task. As soon as my doctor walked away, the intern turned ashen gray and looked as though she was going to pass out. She cried, "I don't know where central supply is. Does anyone know where central supply is?"
Several residents were standing near the young doctor. Finally, one of the resident doctors had compassion for the young intern. Reluctantly he said, "I know where it is. I will show you where it is." The resident took the intern's arm and started marching off toward an ICU exit.
The intern suddenly became extremely gleeful and proclaimed, "Oh boy! We are off on a very important mission!" The intern clapped her hands and started skipping as she walked down the hallway.
So as this new medical new year begins, please remember to pray for all our doctors in training. Pray they have wisdom and guidance as they learn their trade. Pray for all the nurses and doctors to have understanding and patience as everyone adjusts to the new workforce.
And lastly, my words of wisdom are this: stay away from hospitals during the month of July, and for good measure, stay away from medical teaching centers until September. This gives ample time for everyone to get used to their new roles. Happy Medical New Year!
All across the nation, recent medical school graduates are showing up for their first day of "work". They are now interns at the bottom rung of the ladder. After completing their intern year, they then go on to become residents. After completing residency, physicians can complete additional training in fellowship programs.
With all that said, July 1st is a very busy and chaotic day at the hospital. As with starting any new job, there is much confusion. There is a steep learning curve for trying to figure out a hospital's layout and trying to be at the right place at the right time. The dynamics for many medical teams have changed, and roles have to be assigned to every individual in the group. There are many aches and pains as these newly formed teams have to learn to work together.
A few years ago, I was in the hospital in the intensive care unit shortly after the medical new year. My doctor wanted to change out my tracheostomy tube. When my medical team left my room, the physician told an intern to go to central supply to get several items needed to exchange my tracheostomy tube. The intern was eager for the task. As soon as my doctor walked away, the intern turned ashen gray and looked as though she was going to pass out. She cried, "I don't know where central supply is. Does anyone know where central supply is?"
Several residents were standing near the young doctor. Finally, one of the resident doctors had compassion for the young intern. Reluctantly he said, "I know where it is. I will show you where it is." The resident took the intern's arm and started marching off toward an ICU exit.
The intern suddenly became extremely gleeful and proclaimed, "Oh boy! We are off on a very important mission!" The intern clapped her hands and started skipping as she walked down the hallway.
So as this new medical new year begins, please remember to pray for all our doctors in training. Pray they have wisdom and guidance as they learn their trade. Pray for all the nurses and doctors to have understanding and patience as everyone adjusts to the new workforce.
And lastly, my words of wisdom are this: stay away from hospitals during the month of July, and for good measure, stay away from medical teaching centers until September. This gives ample time for everyone to get used to their new roles. Happy Medical New Year!
Thursday, July 4, 2019
Happy Independence Day!
Today is one of my favorite days of the year. I love seeing people decked out in our nation's colors. I love seeing marching bands, civic groups, veterans and government officials stroll down America's streets in countless parades across the nation. Being in the midst of summer, the weather in all 50 states is usually sunny and warm. Images of popsicles dripping sticky sweetness down young children's hands, watermelon, corn on the cob and families being together abound. Patriotic songs fill the air with joy and hope. I love how for one day a year, we can all come together to share in one celebration.
As the sun fades and the stars begin to shine, fireworks light up the sky. Audiences wail with excitement and anticipation as pyrotechnic displays leave them breathless. All too soon, it seems, the fun ends. People meander back to their homes, tired from a long day in the sun. In the morning, the great brotherhood which united this nation for a single day seems to dissipate. Oh how I wish every day we could exhibit the love and pride for this country as we do on the Fourth of July. How glorious it would be if on every day we were united as Americans, one nation under God.
As the sun fades and the stars begin to shine, fireworks light up the sky. Audiences wail with excitement and anticipation as pyrotechnic displays leave them breathless. All too soon, it seems, the fun ends. People meander back to their homes, tired from a long day in the sun. In the morning, the great brotherhood which united this nation for a single day seems to dissipate. Oh how I wish every day we could exhibit the love and pride for this country as we do on the Fourth of July. How glorious it would be if on every day we were united as Americans, one nation under God.
Tuesday, July 2, 2019
This won’t hurt...why are you crying? (Part Three)
I am wheeled to the recovery area. A different nurse takes over my care. She seems alarmed at my current state. She saw me before the procedure. I was cheerful and made small talk with her. Now, my face is streaked with tears, and my voice is too hoarse to speak. The nurse keeps a close eye on me.
Approximately 15 minutes have passed since my dose of fentanyl. The nurse asks me if I want something else for the pain. I nod, "Yes." The nurse finds the radiology nurse and asks what the doctor previously prescribed. The radiology nurse says, "Fifty of fentanyl." The recovery nurse asks where the radiology physician is. The radiology nurse says, "The reading room." The recovery nurse phones the doctor.
A few minutes later, the recovery nurse is at my bedside with 50 more of fentanyl. I am in disbelief that I am actually being given fentanyl...and 50 more at that! The nurse slowly infuses the fentanyl into my body via my PICC line. Again, I feel the sedative effects of the fentanyl threaten to pull my body into slumberland. But, once again, the intense pain, which is now radiating down my arm into my fingers and is radiating up my arm into my shoulder, is preventing me from sleeping.
This time, the fentanyl provides a little bit of relief. Over the next ten minutes, the pain lessens to the point where I can rest my head on a pillow. I cradle my left arm and wish I could get more fentanyl.
An hour after I am rolled into the recovery room, the nurse asks if I want to go home. I am still shaking uncontrollably, but the intensity of my pain is much less than what it previously was. I can sense that my ability to get any more pain medication has been exhausted. I know nothing else will be done. I tell the nurse I am ready to go home.
I attempt to change out of my hospital gown and put back on my shirt. I howl in pain when I attempt to move my arm. Another very sweet nurse hears my cry. She tells me to not move. She will be with me in a moment. She suddenly appears in my recovery cubicle and closes the curtain behind her. I am in a sorry state. My camisole is partially on my right side. On my left side, my chest is exposed. The nurse carefully gets my camisole on. She then gently gets my shirt on. I cradle my left arm. The nurse asks if I would like some ice. She hurries away and quickly gives me a cloth bag full of ice.
The nurse next helps me into my wheelchair. The second nurse summons my nurse to help gather up and transfer my ventilator and heater/humidifier from my bedside table on to my lap. Together the two nurses manage to move my machines. I carefully balance the machines on my lap and hang on to them with my right arm. Both nurses accompany me down to the patient drop-off area, where my mom is waiting in the car. The nurses assist with getting me and all my equipment into the car. My mom and I drive to the hotel for a night of much needed rest.
I wish I would say that once I got back to the hotel, my arm magically stops hurting. It does not. It continues to hurt. The pain continues to spread. I am completely exhausted from the whole ordeal; I immediately fall asleep for two hours upon arriving at the hotel. However, once my body gets a little bit of sleep, the pain comes roaring back. My whole body shakes uncontrollably. I am grateful I have some Vicodin pills I use for pancreatitis attacks with me in my backpack. I take one pill. I attempt to drink some tea and eat some food. It has been many, many hours since my body last received any nourishment. I try not to move my arm, but the slightest touch or brush against my arm sends me howling in pain, and tears stream down my face.
I attempt to sleep, but the pain continually keeps me awake. After a couple hours of severe pain, I take another Vicodin pill. This time, my pain level decreases. I sleep about two hours.
In the morning, my left upper arm is about twice the size it normally is. It is red and very swollen. I manage to get through the day without using any pain medication. For the next week, I continually wake up during the night in extreme pain. I rotate ice and a heating pad on my arm. Very slowly, the pain and swelling decrease.
It now has been two weeks since my PICC line has been inserted. My arm continues to ache in pain; however, the pain is much, MUCH less than what it was. For that, I am very grateful.
I hope and pray this is the last time I will need a PICC line. If this line fails or becomes infected before my treatment course of antibiotics is complete, I will not get another PICC line. This is my last PICC line. I cannot endure another PICC line procedure.
(Link to Part One click here)
(Link to Part Two click here)
Approximately 15 minutes have passed since my dose of fentanyl. The nurse asks me if I want something else for the pain. I nod, "Yes." The nurse finds the radiology nurse and asks what the doctor previously prescribed. The radiology nurse says, "Fifty of fentanyl." The recovery nurse asks where the radiology physician is. The radiology nurse says, "The reading room." The recovery nurse phones the doctor.
A few minutes later, the recovery nurse is at my bedside with 50 more of fentanyl. I am in disbelief that I am actually being given fentanyl...and 50 more at that! The nurse slowly infuses the fentanyl into my body via my PICC line. Again, I feel the sedative effects of the fentanyl threaten to pull my body into slumberland. But, once again, the intense pain, which is now radiating down my arm into my fingers and is radiating up my arm into my shoulder, is preventing me from sleeping.
This time, the fentanyl provides a little bit of relief. Over the next ten minutes, the pain lessens to the point where I can rest my head on a pillow. I cradle my left arm and wish I could get more fentanyl.
An hour after I am rolled into the recovery room, the nurse asks if I want to go home. I am still shaking uncontrollably, but the intensity of my pain is much less than what it previously was. I can sense that my ability to get any more pain medication has been exhausted. I know nothing else will be done. I tell the nurse I am ready to go home.
I attempt to change out of my hospital gown and put back on my shirt. I howl in pain when I attempt to move my arm. Another very sweet nurse hears my cry. She tells me to not move. She will be with me in a moment. She suddenly appears in my recovery cubicle and closes the curtain behind her. I am in a sorry state. My camisole is partially on my right side. On my left side, my chest is exposed. The nurse carefully gets my camisole on. She then gently gets my shirt on. I cradle my left arm. The nurse asks if I would like some ice. She hurries away and quickly gives me a cloth bag full of ice.
The nurse next helps me into my wheelchair. The second nurse summons my nurse to help gather up and transfer my ventilator and heater/humidifier from my bedside table on to my lap. Together the two nurses manage to move my machines. I carefully balance the machines on my lap and hang on to them with my right arm. Both nurses accompany me down to the patient drop-off area, where my mom is waiting in the car. The nurses assist with getting me and all my equipment into the car. My mom and I drive to the hotel for a night of much needed rest.
I wish I would say that once I got back to the hotel, my arm magically stops hurting. It does not. It continues to hurt. The pain continues to spread. I am completely exhausted from the whole ordeal; I immediately fall asleep for two hours upon arriving at the hotel. However, once my body gets a little bit of sleep, the pain comes roaring back. My whole body shakes uncontrollably. I am grateful I have some Vicodin pills I use for pancreatitis attacks with me in my backpack. I take one pill. I attempt to drink some tea and eat some food. It has been many, many hours since my body last received any nourishment. I try not to move my arm, but the slightest touch or brush against my arm sends me howling in pain, and tears stream down my face.
I attempt to sleep, but the pain continually keeps me awake. After a couple hours of severe pain, I take another Vicodin pill. This time, my pain level decreases. I sleep about two hours.
In the morning, my left upper arm is about twice the size it normally is. It is red and very swollen. I manage to get through the day without using any pain medication. For the next week, I continually wake up during the night in extreme pain. I rotate ice and a heating pad on my arm. Very slowly, the pain and swelling decrease.
It now has been two weeks since my PICC line has been inserted. My arm continues to ache in pain; however, the pain is much, MUCH less than what it was. For that, I am very grateful.
I hope and pray this is the last time I will need a PICC line. If this line fails or becomes infected before my treatment course of antibiotics is complete, I will not get another PICC line. This is my last PICC line. I cannot endure another PICC line procedure.
(Link to Part One click here)
(Link to Part Two click here)
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