Never did I think I would spend Easter Sunday in the hospital. I was awakened around midnight by a pain in the middle of my chest. To say I was scared is an understatement. As the pain intensified and felt like a tightening, I immediately thought I was having a heart attack and took some aspirin, wondering if I should call someone to come help me or dial 9-1-1. But then the pain radiated around my right side and up my back beside my right shoulder blade. Although it may have been foolish, I got online to look up signs of a heart attack in women because I remember reading that women may experience different symptoms than men do. I couldn't completely relate what I found to what I was experiencing, plus the aspirin seemed to help the pain subside a little and I was moving about the house OK despite the pain. But then it turned into a burning pain, so I went looking in the cabinet for something for heartburn (I've never had heartburn that I know of, so I don't know what it feels like). I chewed a Pepcid Complete, but it did nothing. The pain intensified more, so I called 9-1-1. Right after I hung up the phone, I felt nauseous and brought the Pepcid right back up. I knew nausea could be associated with a heart attack and prepared to go to the hospital, hoping I hadn't been foolish in delaying my call for help. I unlocked the front door, got dressed, gathered my purse and coat, and the paramedics arrived. They first did an EKG right in the living room and it showed no problem. By then the pain was subsiding again. They nevertheless wanted to take me in to be checked out and I agreed.
I had another EKG at the hospital and blood work to check for the tell-tale enzyme of a heart problem, but nothing showed up. Still, I was told I'd be admitted for observation and monitoring for 24 hours with continued blood draws and my wearing a heart monitor. However, other enzymes from the liver and pancreas showed slightly elevated levels, and that combined with my description of the pain and the fact that I got really sick to my stomach in the ER led the doctors to suspect stones in my gallbladder, one of which must have blocked a duct for about 1 1/2 hours and caused the pain--and an ultrasound showed that to be the case. So in addition to monitoring my heart, after I was admitted I had another, more thorough ultrasound. By mid-day, the internist who was assigned to me determined that there was no heart problem (other than my right bundle block which I've known about for a few years and which causes no problems and requires no treatment). He discontinued the IV and cancelled the rest of the blood draws, though I still had to wear the heart monitor. However, he called in a surgeon for a consult and they both studied my second ultrasound. They concluded that I was not in any danger from anything connected with the stones in my gallbladder and said I could go home. Some people have gallstones all their lives and never have a problem; they stay "silent." However, the internist recommended I have my gall bladder removed because once someone has an attack, more attacks are likely. The surgeon explained the procedure to me and recommended giving myself 2 weeks to settle back down, then see him in his office to discuss the surgery further and set a date for it sometime in the next 6 weeks. So I will discuss this with my own internist, but that's what I'm planning to do.
Getting out of the hospital was a fiasco. I won't go into all the details, but there were problems in communication among the doctors and nurses. No one signed my discharge paperwork; because all the monitoring orders were cancelled, my nurse just pretty much ignored me and then went home with the notation on my chart still saying that I was to be kept overnight. My complaints did get some attention from the night shift nurse, and after she made a bunch of calls and figured out how to discharge me electronically, I finally was disconnected from the heart monitor and allowed to leave. Debbie picked me up, and I got back in the house at about 10:15 pm, roughly 8 hours after I had been told I could go home.
Instead of writing about having Easter dinner at Becky and Tim's house--which obviously didn't happen for me--I can now tell you a lot about how the gallbladder functions and what happens in the body once it is removed. This was all quite an education for me from both the medical perspective and a more personal one. Once again I am reminded that I need to anticipate, pre-plan, keep medical and other information in order and accessible, and be sure to have a support system in place for emergencies and other times I will need help. It's quite a lesson.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Memories flooding in
Writing in this blog is another way I am trying to cope, especially today, with a flood of memories that have come since a few days before Valentine's Day. Ed and I never went all out for Valentine's Day, just exchanging cards, an occasional gift, and always a nice dinner at home. This past one really hit me hard nevertheless. I was a crying mess at that week's support group meeting when the facilitator asked us how we were handling the hype. I think it was because the last card I ever got from Ed was Valentine's Day last year. To get through the day, I and several of my support group friends, who were also struggling with all the hype beforehand and the actual day, e-mailed each other all day long to boost our spirits.
Now today, I have come to one of the "first anniversaries." One year ago today, we were preparing for a six-day trip to Iowa to paint Melissa and Mark's newly finished basement family room. I was looking out the front window in the loft, watching Ed put our trash can out for the next morning's pickup, after which we would start our drive to Iowa. What I saw is so vivid in my mind now. He was limping, badly, favoring his right side. When he came inside, he said he thought he must have pulled a groin muscle lifting the garage door because he hadn't felt anything prior to that. Although our double garage door is on an automatic opener, the single door has to be opened manually, so it seemed possible that's what happened. Since it didn't bother him to sit, we decided that a good night's rest, some ice and some Advil would help, and we would still make the trip. The next morning we debated again but still decided to make the trip. Ed even took the first couple hours of driving. When we stopped for lunch in Champaign, IL, he was in severe pain when walking and could barely walk to get lunch. We talked about just turning back, but once again since he could sit and even drive comfortably, we kept on going. The entire time we were in Iowa, he sat in an easy chair; he just could not stand or walk without discomfort, even with taking Advil and using ice. He joked that it was a good thing the Big Ten basketball tournament was on TV to keep him occupied since he couldn't help paint. He made it to the basement twice while we were there to see how the room was coming along. Mostly we all waited on him so he wouldn't have to move around much. He seemed to feel a little bit better after a few days of inactivity. Once we got back home, we scheduled a visit to a GP for the next day. That was the start of many trips to various specialists. The GP also thought it was possible that he pulled a groin muscle or that he had arthritis in his hip, but he wanted to do other tests, too, starting with a urologist to check for prostate cancer. He gave Ed a pain pill to take and arthritis medication to try. The pain pill helped; Ed didn't like the way the Celebrex affected him and he stopped taking it after a few doses.
I really do not believe that losing a week before getting to a doctor made any difference. We obviously didn't know that the pain in Ed's hip was from the deterioration the cancer had already caused as it spread. The doctor never guessed that it was renal cell carcinoma because Ed had absolutely no symptoms of that. The urologist wasn't thinking that either, and first treated Ed for a urinary infection while waiting for test results for prostate cancer, which were negative.
I won't go into any more detail now. It's just been not the best day today even though I have tried to keep busy and not dwell on the memories that have come flooding back. Last night I had a dozen people from the support group here for supper; we had two weeks "off" between sessions, but some of us still like to get together on those off Wednesdays mainly for the companionship and the chance to talk about more than just dealing with our grief. I thought having these friends here would help me handle today, and e-mails from a couple of them today have helped. But I was painfully aware of how empty the house felt when they all left at 10 last night.
Thursday of last week, I finally got down to Cincinnati to see my sister-in-law Maryellen and niece Pat (technically Ed's niece, but she still calls me Aunt Joni, and I like that). I was finally able to deliver the family tree I created with Bob's picture and his kids' and grandkids' names, just like the one I gave everyone at Christmas with Ed's photo and names, showing the research that Ed had done back several generations. I know both Maryellen and Pat appreciated having it. We had a nice, long, lots-of-talking lunch together that I think was good for all of us. We are all still grieving the loss of both brothers--it's still so hard to believe they could both be gone within months of each other. I also had a little alone time with Pat that was good for both of us, too, I think. Kirk, Pat's husband, even made it home from work early, and with their daughter and son getting home from school, it was so pleasant to be with them all.
Some days in the past two months, I have thought that maybe I don't need the support group as much anymore, though I would definitely want to stay in touch with the friends I've made. But facing the "anniversaries" is something others in the group have talked about that I can relate to, so I will be going back for another eight weeks. If I find I'm doing OK or the issues we talk about are becoming repetitive rather than helpful, I can always stop going, or just go occasionally for "booster shots," as the facilitators call them.
Now today, I have come to one of the "first anniversaries." One year ago today, we were preparing for a six-day trip to Iowa to paint Melissa and Mark's newly finished basement family room. I was looking out the front window in the loft, watching Ed put our trash can out for the next morning's pickup, after which we would start our drive to Iowa. What I saw is so vivid in my mind now. He was limping, badly, favoring his right side. When he came inside, he said he thought he must have pulled a groin muscle lifting the garage door because he hadn't felt anything prior to that. Although our double garage door is on an automatic opener, the single door has to be opened manually, so it seemed possible that's what happened. Since it didn't bother him to sit, we decided that a good night's rest, some ice and some Advil would help, and we would still make the trip. The next morning we debated again but still decided to make the trip. Ed even took the first couple hours of driving. When we stopped for lunch in Champaign, IL, he was in severe pain when walking and could barely walk to get lunch. We talked about just turning back, but once again since he could sit and even drive comfortably, we kept on going. The entire time we were in Iowa, he sat in an easy chair; he just could not stand or walk without discomfort, even with taking Advil and using ice. He joked that it was a good thing the Big Ten basketball tournament was on TV to keep him occupied since he couldn't help paint. He made it to the basement twice while we were there to see how the room was coming along. Mostly we all waited on him so he wouldn't have to move around much. He seemed to feel a little bit better after a few days of inactivity. Once we got back home, we scheduled a visit to a GP for the next day. That was the start of many trips to various specialists. The GP also thought it was possible that he pulled a groin muscle or that he had arthritis in his hip, but he wanted to do other tests, too, starting with a urologist to check for prostate cancer. He gave Ed a pain pill to take and arthritis medication to try. The pain pill helped; Ed didn't like the way the Celebrex affected him and he stopped taking it after a few doses.
I really do not believe that losing a week before getting to a doctor made any difference. We obviously didn't know that the pain in Ed's hip was from the deterioration the cancer had already caused as it spread. The doctor never guessed that it was renal cell carcinoma because Ed had absolutely no symptoms of that. The urologist wasn't thinking that either, and first treated Ed for a urinary infection while waiting for test results for prostate cancer, which were negative.
I won't go into any more detail now. It's just been not the best day today even though I have tried to keep busy and not dwell on the memories that have come flooding back. Last night I had a dozen people from the support group here for supper; we had two weeks "off" between sessions, but some of us still like to get together on those off Wednesdays mainly for the companionship and the chance to talk about more than just dealing with our grief. I thought having these friends here would help me handle today, and e-mails from a couple of them today have helped. But I was painfully aware of how empty the house felt when they all left at 10 last night.
Thursday of last week, I finally got down to Cincinnati to see my sister-in-law Maryellen and niece Pat (technically Ed's niece, but she still calls me Aunt Joni, and I like that). I was finally able to deliver the family tree I created with Bob's picture and his kids' and grandkids' names, just like the one I gave everyone at Christmas with Ed's photo and names, showing the research that Ed had done back several generations. I know both Maryellen and Pat appreciated having it. We had a nice, long, lots-of-talking lunch together that I think was good for all of us. We are all still grieving the loss of both brothers--it's still so hard to believe they could both be gone within months of each other. I also had a little alone time with Pat that was good for both of us, too, I think. Kirk, Pat's husband, even made it home from work early, and with their daughter and son getting home from school, it was so pleasant to be with them all.
Some days in the past two months, I have thought that maybe I don't need the support group as much anymore, though I would definitely want to stay in touch with the friends I've made. But facing the "anniversaries" is something others in the group have talked about that I can relate to, so I will be going back for another eight weeks. If I find I'm doing OK or the issues we talk about are becoming repetitive rather than helpful, I can always stop going, or just go occasionally for "booster shots," as the facilitators call them.
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