0
Tink1717

Sick, but still alive. (LONG, very LONG)

Recommended Posts

From my blog on my home site.



OK, so I said I’d keep this blog up to date, but here it is, several months later and I’m just getting around to updating it. This time, I have a much netter excuse that just plain old sloth: I almost died.

Here is what happened. On 10-10, I went in for a routine arthroscopy on my right knee. I was in and out with absolutely no problems. I went to the post- op follow up and breezed right through that also. On 10-24, I went to have the same procedure done on my left knee. That one hurt a little more than the right one did, but only for the first day. I was fully expecting that this one would go the same way the other one went. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Shortly after the post-op follow up, I felt good, so instead of resting, I got right up and began moving the knee as much as I could. The next day (Wednesday) the knee began to hurt. I attributed that to over use too soon after surgery and dismissed it as just another thing to hurt. Again, I couldn’t have been more wrong. That weekend was hellish (but was nothing compared to what was to come) and I was in more pain than I had ever been in before. That Monday, I had an appointment with my regular doctor. When I hobbled in, she went ballistic. She immediately told me I had a septic joint and that I needed to get to the ER immediately. So, one ambulance ride later, I was at the ER at Union Memorial Hospital being seen by the orthopedics resident, a guy named Stieger. He confirmed that I had a septic joint and promptly proceeded to drain 70 cc of ugly looking fluid from my knee. To understand how much of a big deal this is, a normal knee only holds about 4 cc of fluid. The ER staff then proceeded to ask repeatedly if I knew why my creatin levels were so high. I had no idea. My kidneys were always reliable in the past and I had never been evaluated for any kind of kidney malfunction. So right about then, the surgeon shows up. He tells me I need to have an emergency surgery to further reduce the fluid infection and to remove any infected hyaline tissue as well. I went along with this (what else was I going to do?). So after waiting about three hours for the O.R. to open I was treated to a rare sight: a surgeon giving an ER staff a smackdown. It seems that the ER staff was taking too much time with my chart (god only knows why, they had hours to work with) and the surgeon had enough. He was barking orders at the ER staff with all the authority of a drill sergeant whipping up on a raw recruit (R. Lee Ermy would have been proud!) So, we finally get to the O.R. and things start to feel better, as if there is a light at the end of the tunnel. That is until the orthopedics resident thought I was under and started manipulating my knee. I think my shriek of pain truly took him by surprise and he jumped nearly out of his skin. I was under a few seconds after that. When I awoke from anesthesia, things weren’t normal (they never are, but this was even more odd) I was in intense pain and I had the worst case of cotton mouth I have ever had. I said to the nurse, or whoever it was, “pain, cold and cotton mouth, in that order.” They then hit me with 2-5 mg of morphine, which did absolutely nothing. I went to sleep shortly after that. I awoke in room 836 of the main hospital. There was a nurse taking my vital signs and doctor who said he was the infection control doc for the hospital. I asked him what was going on with my kidneys. He said that a normal creatin level was ~ 1 – 1.5 or so, people who are on dialysis have levels of ~ 7 or 8. Mine was 3.5. When I asked him what was up with that, he said “the short answer is: you’re sick as shit.” Later, the ortho guy said that I was so septic that things had started to shut down. Things like my G.I. system (which I found out was already shut down and would take a few days to come back), my kidneys and, if the infection progressed, my heart and lungs.

So, for the next five days, I went through a schedule that more or less went like this:
1. Wake up about every half hour or so either because the pain drug wore off or to allow someone to poke you with something sharp.
2. Take one bite of the most awful food I have ever had to try to eat and reject the meal on the grounds of being unfit even for animal consumption. By the end of the third day, I just couldn’t take the food any more and had Elaine start smuggling food in when she would visit.
3. Flip thought the 25 or so channels of nothing on. Settle for a more or less endless loop of CNN and MTV2.
4. Endure a constant cycle of freezing and sweating. This was even more annoying than the pain at night because I couldn’t get full nights sleep.

This all continued until Thursday night. That’s when I learned something. When you come down with chest pains in a hospital, people come out of the woodwork. Things went from bad to worse when this happened. First, I got examined by at least four different doctors, P.A.’s and nurses. Then they made a decision to send me two floors down to the C.C.U. This was accomplished by a transport team that had the most flamingly gay man I have ever seen. He was beyond stereotypical. The lisp, the swish, the look, he could have been straight out of a Hollywood spoof. Except that he was for real. The rest of that night was an eye opener. I was even more helpless than before. I was reduced to needing a bedpan and having someone else do my backside. How much lower can you get? Not a whole lot I think. All this and by the time I got settled in to the C.C.U., the chest pains were gone.

Friday, the last day I was in the hospital, was eventful only in that I went through just about every cardiac test there was. It seems that if you come down with chest pains after being septic and immobile for a week and have a family history that includes myocardial infarction at the age of 44 in you father and before that age of 70 in your mother, they get VERY worried. So, I had, in addition to every form of E.K.G. and telemetry known, a “chemical stress test.” The procedure is relatively simple: they load you up with a radioactive isotope, take an x-ray movie of the heart, load you up with adenosine, re dose with more radio active isotope, take another x-ray movie, and then compare the two and see if there is any damage. Fortunately for me, all these tests showed no damage whatsoever.

Although this was a major pain in the ass (and other areas too), it did a lot for my peace of mind. You see, I am one year older than my father was when he had his first heart attack. This weighs very heavy on my mind because I have his DNA and I tend to favor him in my physical characteristics. And although my lifestyle couldn’t be more different than his and the fact that I have access to drug therapies and exercise that simply didn’t exist when he was alive, none of this provides solace, I still think I have a ticking time bomb in my chest.
So, now I’m discharged from the hospital to home. I have, in my left arm, a thing called a P.I.C. line. That is, a Peripherally Inserted Central line. This is to accommodate the six weeks of IV and oral antibiotics I will be on. The home care nurse shows up and gives my girlfriend and me all the instructions we need to maintain the IV schedule and keep the line clear. Then they check in every week to change dressings and check on progress. All this while still in a joint immobilizer that limits my movement even more than the initial injury and infection did. The first week of being home wasn’t much better than the hospital. It was excruciating to get out of bed and excruciating to get into and out of the recliner in my living room, where I spent the vast majority of my first week at home. I’ve never been more dependant in my life.

After week one, I went to surgeon (no easy feat in itself). It took a full half an hour to get from the parking garage to his office. The upside is that he released me from the joint immobilizer. Either it was time to do so OR he recognized that I was climbing the walls at home and very much wanted to get on with P.T. Either way, it made the trip home much less difficult. It also freed me to start P.T. and made the nights easier to deal with.

Week two, P.T. begins. The first session is more or less just an assessment session. Good, I’m in no mood to be yanked and cranked on. Weeks two and three are a different story. The P.T. guy thinks I’m in OK shape but is very careful to never give a prognosis. He is very optimistic, says he’s seen worse, and says “no problem” when I say “Get me off these damn crutches.” So far, so good. I’m in week three of P.T. now and I can start to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Here we are four weeks after discharge and I have come a long way but still have a very long way to go.

There is a lot I’ve learned from this experience. I now know that I can see my own mortality in a way that I couldn’t before. I know what death is all about. I’ve seen it. It is black, cold, still, thoughtless oblivion. It is an absolute wall. There is nothing on the other side and it can’t be penetrated. I’ve also learned a lot about how sick you can be. Being sick is no fun. Neither is looking at the prospect of having your life altered in ways that you aren’t prepared for or can foresee. At this point, I don’t know if I can have the life back that I had before. I don’t know if I can skydive again. I don’t know if I can SCUBA dive again. I don’t know if I can even ride a bike again. I am fairly certain that my days as a tandem instructor and rigger are over. This is especially significant because I was planning to retire next spring and I was planning on being a DZ bum for the extra cash it would bring in. Now the fire dept. is pressuring me to retire early. I have no “plan B” that.

But, the most important thing I’ve learned from this is that I have a girlfriend who truly loves me. She has taken care of me since the first sign of trouble and has tolerated my every mood and disability. She has dressed me, drove me, fed me, ran every errand I cared to ask. She has out up with my narcotic induced irritability (something I didn’t know I had). All this while keeping her own life and career going. What a truly amazing woman. I know that this is genuine, if she was faking or just playing along, she would have collapsed long ago. I am the luckiest guy on earth to have her.
Skydivers don't knock on Death's door. They ring the bell and runaway... It really pisses him off.
-The World Famous Tink. (I never heard of you either!!)
AA #2069 ASA#33 POPS#8808 Swooo 1717

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
Yep.. Just before all this happened, we bought wedding rings. She's a keeper.
Skydivers don't knock on Death's door. They ring the bell and runaway... It really pisses him off.
-The World Famous Tink. (I never heard of you either!!)
AA #2069 ASA#33 POPS#8808 Swooo 1717

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Holy cow :o Glad to hear that you are progressing well, and very glad to hear that you have a new perspective on life and your love!!! :)
Good luck!!!

g

"Let's do something romantic this Saturday... how bout we bust out the restraints?"
Raddest Ho this side of Jersey #1 - MISS YOU
OMG, is she okay?

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
Quote

Sounds like you're blessed in a couple of ways.

Glad to hear you're doing better, and HANG on to that woman! B|

No Shit. Most of my "friends", basically abandoned me after the 1st 2 weeks. Try being basically a shut-in for 2 months. At least I had enough foresight to rent a wheelchair, so I could make it back and forth to the store and prepare my own meals. :)
"No cookies for you"- GFD
"I don't think I like the sound of that" ~ MB65
Don't be a "Racer Hater"

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

The original injury was Chodromylasia (sp?). That's a hole on the backside of the kneecap. It basically feels like someone hitting your knee with a hammer every time you bend it. Hurts like hell, but nothing like this.:o

Skydivers don't knock on Death's door. They ring the bell and runaway... It really pisses him off.
-The World Famous Tink. (I never heard of you either!!)
AA #2069 ASA#33 POPS#8808 Swooo 1717

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
Yeah, so far only one guy from the DZ has shown up, and only two other jumpers have shown up, both of then three weeks ago. Funny how we say we take care of our own. but in practice rarely do.
Skydivers don't knock on Death's door. They ring the bell and runaway... It really pisses him off.
-The World Famous Tink. (I never heard of you either!!)
AA #2069 ASA#33 POPS#8808 Swooo 1717

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
Quote

Yeah, so far only one guy from the DZ has shown up, and only two other jumpers have shown up, both of then three weeks ago. Funny how we say we take care of our own. but in practice rarely do.



ya... sad to learn that during times of struggle huh? [:/] I've learned that too and it hurt pretty bad at the time...

Sorry to hear of all your trouble, but very glad to hear that 'the planets aligned' to allow you to recover though - and even more so that you have someone to help you through all of this.

Best of luck for a continued recovery!
Arianna Frances

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
Quote

Damn Tink, sorry you are laid up. Not as bad as you but i know the feeling. I broke my tib/fib a week ago and having someone there to help take care of you is priceless.



Same here but, it was over a month ago for me. I feel so lucky I had such wonderful people to take care of me. I hope you feel better soon.

Tink1717, I'm so sorry you got so sick. That makes the 3 days I spent in the hospital not seem so bad:(. You're right about the bed pan. Injuries take away all your dignity. I've never felt so helpless in my whole life:S I have to say thank you to my man as well. He broke his leg 3 weeks before I did but, he still spent the night in the hospital by my side, stayed with me at my parents house to keep me company and drove me back home every weekend so I could see my cats. He's a keeper!!!

I'm glad you feel better now. I hope you are fully recovered soon:)
Fly like a girl

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
Quote

You're right about the bed pan. Injuries take away all your dignity. I've never felt so helpless in my whole life

I loved that part. I would fill up my urine container, and they would come dump it out. Talk about 5 star service. B|
"No cookies for you"- GFD
"I don't think I like the sound of that" ~ MB65
Don't be a "Racer Hater"

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
At first i was gonna say "sorry to hear that" but now i've decided to say i'm so glad you're alive on the way to recovery. I'm so happy you have someone there taking care of you.

___________________________________________
meow

I get a Mike hug! I get a Mike hug!

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Whenever I filled the urinal, I'd tell the nurse or tech, "Imade you a present." They weren't amused.:P

Skydivers don't knock on Death's door. They ring the bell and runaway... It really pisses him off.
-The World Famous Tink. (I never heard of you either!!)
AA #2069 ASA#33 POPS#8808 Swooo 1717

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Join the conversation

You can post now and register later. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.
Note: Your post will require moderator approval before it will be visible.

Guest
Reply to this topic...

×   Pasted as rich text.   Paste as plain text instead

  Only 75 emoji are allowed.

×   Your link has been automatically embedded.   Display as a link instead

×   Your previous content has been restored.   Clear editor

×   You cannot paste images directly. Upload or insert images from URL.

0