Post date: May 31, 2014 4:59:15 PM
This trip is somewhat different than those posted earlier. I have also skipped some travels - and hope to fill in some gaps later.
So, last Wednesday (21 May) around 7:30 Carol and I were sitting in bed drinking our coffee and reading the newspaper (New York Times) when I felt a twitch in my lower gut and a surge of intense pain centered in my gut. I'm no dummy - something really bad had happened.
So I hobbled to the phone and called my health insurance nurse hot line. Fortunately they were not swamped, and after a brief description she said, "You need to be seen." So I pulled on some pants and called a cab, then went downstairs to wait for the taxi to arrive. Very shortly a yellow cab came around the corner and went right by the house! But he already had a fare. Since my pain level was about eight out of ten, I was a bit impatient. But the cab did pick me up and we drove to Group Health Urgent Care on Capital Hill - about a 15 minute ride.
Fortunately, 8:20 AM is not rush hour at the emergency room, so I passed in quite quickly - with an agonizing pause to pay the taxi driver. Come to think of it, an ambulance trip might have been faster, but the paperwork would have taken more time.
I honestly don't remember much after that. The ER physician's name does look familiar, but nothing more. Apparently Group Health Cooperative (GHC) has had an arrangement with Virginia Mason Medical Center to use the VM facilities for surgery. So the next day I woke up in VM intensive care unit. The surgeon came to tell me that they had removed a chunk of my colon (and the appendix, for good measure). My gut certainly felt like it had been worked over big time.
Turning over in bed was now a big deal, rather than a simple flip of the legs. Most of my time in the ICU was horizontal (as you might well imagine), but they wanted me to turn frequently to avoid blood clots in the legs and bed sores. Since I'm normally quite fidgety I didn't think this would be a big problem. Actually lying still my pain was about two out of ten - very manageable, but as soon as I sat up or stood the pain rose to seven or eight.
ICUs are not restful places. This one is in an older building of one of Seattle's oldest hospitals, so the room was small, crowded with equipment, and the hallway always seemed to be buzzing. About 2AM I seemed to waken to the arrival of a group of young people who had been partying, and were discussing something at length and at volume. I was tempted to call 911, but fortunately my nurse shut the room door. I had lots of visits from the medical teams who were clear and friendly. The nursing staff was also very good.
I also don't remember the trip to the Gastroenterology floor of the VM hospital. Maybe they timed these trips right after a dose of pain medication, or maybe they were simply not memorable - but my memory has never been much for narrative detail. I do remember that I had a urinary ("Foley") catheter, which I found to be a blessing because I didn't have to think about any of the difficulty I had with caring for Carol's mother using a bed pad while she was dying from colon cancer. My roommate apparently had more pride than I and asked for his catheter to be removed early on. (He was only 60, while I'm 75, and that may make a difference.) He paid in trips to the toilet or trying to find his urinal bottle in the middle of the night.
Each day seemed a bit better. The pain was always under control, and generally not noticeable unless I was walking - which they wanted me to do frequently. Eating, was another story. I had no appetite. Even since I was a kid, lack of appetite meant that I was really sick. Well, other than the large bowling ball in my gut, I didn't seem really sick. But I sure wasn't enthused about eating.
My first food was apple juice. That went pretty well. It seemed to generate some gas, which causes pain, but no other complications. Next I tried chicken broth - I was on a clear liquid diet. I don't think that my recently cleaned out intestinal system had the right bacteria to take on chicken broth yet, and it protested. But I persevered, graduating to tapioca pudding and cream of wheat. Still no appetite, but eating.
After five days they removed the urinary catheter and said that if I could urinate on my own I could go home the next day (Tuesday). No problem. I was all ready to go.
I've had some experience with hospital discharges via my wife. They always seem to take longer than necessary. I got training on how to change my ostomy bag, a list of prescriptions - oops, forgot the pain medication - and reminders to make appointments with my primary care and surgery physicians. Then the discharge order had to be signed in the computer. So I called for my ride home, allowing enough time for one or two more minor glitches. Carl arrived. But I had to have a wheelchair take me down to the entrance. Sigh. The wheelchair took another half hour.
I did get home. Because of all the delays, my pain medication was off schedule, and I had to take an Oxycodone that afternoon and couldn't socialize on arrival at the house.
Since arriving home I've been surviving on a few Ibuprofen a day, the antibiotic, a bit of heart medication to control a flared-up arrhythmia, and support of friends and family. Appetite still hasn't returned, but there was delicious chicken soup that tempted me to eat. This morning (Saturday) I felt like going downstairs for the first time - even though I had walked down a couple of times a day as part of my therapy.
Since the pain is no longer a big deal, I will end this post.